Chapter Five

Genevieve took an instinctive step backward. Neither Meredith nor the man made any move toward her, and instead remained still just outside the doorway of one of the far rooms. Mulling over her words for a moment, Gen's gaze darted from Meredith to the man, back and forth, trying to make sense of what she saw. Her stalker knew Meredith... And Meredith had been the one to approach her to work on the project...

She seemed to know me...know my friends...God, has she been helping him?

"What the hell is going on?" Genevieve managed to sound far calmer than she felt, though she attributed that in part to the fact that neither Meredith nor the creep had moved near her yet.

"It's okay," Meredith said gently. "You're going to be fine—just let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Gen cut in. "That you're apparently friends with my stalker?"

"He's not a stalker—"

"He was following me and standing outside my house, which in some circles—like law abiding ones—is considered stalking!"

"It's not like that—"

"Okay, how about attempted murderer then?"

Confusion furrowed Meredith's brows. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean he attacked me and grabbed me and threatened to kill me!"

"He didn't..." She paused as she glanced at her companion. "You didn't really threaten her, did you?" she hissed.

"Yeah, he did," Gen said before he could. Her gaze travelled across the room, refreshing her memory of her environment so she could plan her escape. There were few obstacles impeding her path to the door, but Meredith and the creepy guy were closer to the exit than she was. They'd catch up with her.

Gen's eyes fell on the table in the kitchen area. There sat her bag, which while lacking something useful like a Taser, did hold her cell phone. She could call the police. Granted, she didn't have the slightest idea what the hell to tell them, but she'd worry about that once they arrived and arrested these people.

"I can't believe you threatened—" Meredith began.

"I do what's necessary," the man said, keeping his eyes on Genevieve as he directed his comment to Meredith. At least Gen thought his words were for Meredith—the way he stared at Genevieve herself, she couldn't be certain.

"This is why I said we should talk about approaching her," Meredith replied. "Dammit Michael, you just ended up freaking her out—"

"Oh, it's Michael, is it?" Gen interrupted. "Got a last name I can have so I know who the restraining order should be made out to?"

"It was just a misunderstanding then," Meredith said. "Just stay calm and I'll explain—"

"Call me crazy, but right now I'm less interested in hearing why you lied to me and put me in a room with the guy who attacked me, and more interested in getting the fuck away from you and Mikey."

"Gen—" Meredith started towards her, but Michael put up his hand to stop her. She ceased her approach and instead took a step back, allowing him to take the lead.

"Look, you guys can give all your explanations to the cops," Genevieve said.

"We don't have time for your idle threats," Michael said coldly.

Gen glanced towards her phone again. It was at least four metres away. She could make it as long as he didn't figure out what she was doing. "Believe me, they're far from idle."

"You think you can make it to your phone before I reach you?"

"I'm counting on it," she replied, seeing no sense in lying about what she was thinking.

"Because your boyfriend and his friends will come and rescue you?" he asked. A slight smile pulled at his lips, as though the thought of that highly amused him. It couldn't compare to the humour Genevieve found in it, and that was enough to break some of her fear.

"My boyfriend? You're a pretty shitty stalker if you think I'm going out with Levi."

He seemed unfazed by her remark, and Gen wondered if he had been serious about the boyfriend comment to begin with.

"I know what I need to know about you," he said instead, taking a step toward her. While there was still a considerable gap between them, Genevieve stepped back on instinct.

Michael paced toward her again, and Gen continued to match his steps backward to maintain their distance apart.

"That seems to be a Pavlovian response with you," he said, observing her quick retreat as he moved forward.

While her immediate reaction was to stop running and march toward him, Genevieve was quick to recall he carried a weapon when they last ran into each other. Best to keep the hell away from the guy.

"What can I say—you hold a knife to my throat, and I learn my lesson the first time."

"A knife?" Meredith repeated, staring at Michael. "You actually brought out a knife?"

Michael turned his head to glance back at her and address her question. The moment his eyes left Genevieve, however, she took off for her phone.

Gen hadn't gone two feet before a knife whizzed by her face. The tip of the blade struck the space between two bricks and stood straight out of the wall, buried at least an inch deep. Genevieve froze, staring at the still-humming knife, which had missed her face by only a few centimetres.

"I haven't finished speaking to you yet," Michael informed her.

Slowly, she sent a sideways glance his way, almost afraid to look in case he had any more sharp projectiles in hand. He appeared to be unarmed, though she definitely wasn't trusting appearances any longer.

"This isn't going to work," Meredith said to her companion, her voice pleading with him. "She isn't going to listen to you if you keep scaring her!"

While Genevieve hated them discussing her as if she was some frightened, cornered animal, in truth that was how she felt. She kept her silence, but remained on guard.

"She should be scared," Michael responded calmly. "If she steps foot out that door, she'll be killed."

"Please, Gen," Meredith said, giving up on persuading Michael and turning her pleas to Genevieve. "Just sit down and listen—that's all I ask."

"It ceases to be 'asking' when some maniac is throwing knives at me!" Gen shot back.

"What will make you feel safe enough to hear him out then?" Meredith asked.

"Nothing."

"Please, there's got to be something..."

"How about a public place? Or the police station?"

"Not an option," Michael replied.

Genevieve thought about it for a moment, then her eyes settled on her messenger bag.

"My phone," she said. "He," she pointed at Michael, "proves he's not carrying anymore weapons, stays the hell away from me, and you," she gestured at Meredith, "give me my phone."

"That sounds fair enough, right Michael?" Meredith said, glancing at her friend.

He stared at Genevieve a moment longer, scrutinizing her, studying her expression, weighing her down with his very gaze. At last he nodded his consent. "Fine."

"Okay then—let's see the lack of weapons."

This time Michael wasn't wearing his jacket, and even with his loose black shirt and pants, there weren't many places he could hide things. He rolled up his sleeves, turned out his pockets, then gave her a shrug.

"Let's see under your pant leg," Gen responded with skepticism.

Clearly he wasn't expecting that, and hesitated for a moment.

"I watch movies, you know—let's see."

With a heavy sigh, at last he reached for his left ankle and pulled out a small black semi-automatic handgun. Gen felt her heart jump into her throat as he carelessly tossed it on the Persian rug in front of him.

"Now the other one."

Sure enough, strapped to his right ankle was a set of small throwing knives. He unhooked the belt-like strap and tossed them next to his gun.

"He's not going to hurt you," Meredith said.

"You're really not the one who's going to strengthen his case right now."

Without another word, Meredith went for the kitchen to snatch the bag off of the table, while Michael walked back to lean against the wall opposite Genevieve, watching her.

Her attempts to remain calm weren't getting any easier with Michael's green eyes boring into her, so Gen averted her gaze and tried to be patient as Meredith picked up the bag and walked over.

"Here."

Genevieve snatched her messenger bag and rifled through it. She briefly ceased her search as she felt the familiar hard plastic of the phone. I have my cell—it'll be all right.

But no, it wouldn't be all right. Would she have time to call for help? If she did get a hold of the police, would they even get to the house on time? Though it would be nice for her parents to at least be able to find her body, dying wasn't exactly high on the priority list. If she could, she had to get away from these people...

And that wouldn't be happening until she had leverage over them.

"I hope we can talk about this now," Meredith began.

In a split second, Gen made her decision. She let her bag—and her phone—drop to the ground. At the same time, she reached for the knife plunged into the wall, and yanked it out before Meredith realized what was happening. Her dark eyes widened as Gen grabbed her and spun her around, pressing her arm over her chest and thrusting the knife up against her throat.

Oh God, I did not just do this—I'm not really holding a knife to this girl's throat...

Despite Genevieve's realization that this was a completely insane decision on her part, she nonetheless found herself pinning Meredith against her, threatening the girl the very same way Michael had with her two days earlier.

"It's okay—calm down, Genevieve," Meredith said soothingly, as if unfazed by her current predicament. Gen couldn't be sure if Meredith knew she was serious or not—hell, Genevieve herself didn't know if she was serious.

Meredith's attempts at calming her captor were interrupted by the slow, rhythmic clapping of Michael. The eyes of both girls shot to him.

"And her true colours emerge at last." While a cold grin played at the corners of his mouth, it never quite extended to his eyes. He didn't seem surprised by her actions, but while he had an air of smug satisfaction that she behaved as he predicted, he also seemed almost...disappointed at the same time.

All of which told Genevieve she was crazy and just reading too much into the creep's expression.

"Just let me leave. Please." She knew she shouldn't be pleading; the whole point of grabbing Meredith was to show she was strong—that she wouldn't be pushed around and she was capable of fighting back. But Michael clearly didn't believe her anymore than she believed herself.

"Perhaps you weren't listening before. I told you, if you step foot outside that door, you will be killed."

"So just don't kill me! Is that so difficult?"

"More than you know."

"What the hell—"

"Michael isn't going to kill you, Genevieve," Meredith cut in. "He's trying to protect you."

"And what a fine job he was doing, what with all the following me and threatening me and trying to kill me!"

"If I wanted you dead, you would be," Michael replied.

While she didn't doubt that for a second, it did little to convince her he was in any way interested in helping her.

"So you weren't trying to kill me when you held a knife to my throat?"

"Do you intend to kill Merri right now?"

That question made her pause. Well, no, the truth was she didn't intend to hurt Meredith. She couldn’t bring herself to lie about that.

"No," she replied, her voice low after a long pause. "But—"

"But you want us to listen to you—to take you seriously," Michael finished for her, and waited as the pieces fell together in her mind. "When the situation calls for it, a person does what he has to."

"Or you could have just come up to me and talked to me like a non-stalker-y crazy person!"

"Which, you may recall, I tried to do. You ran."

Shit, he had her there. Though in her defense he still seemed pretty scary even when he wasn't holding a knife to her throat. "So who were you trying to protect me from?" Gen asked, still not ready to relinquish Meredith, her only bargaining chip at this point.

"Take a look at that blade you're holding."

Though she loathed to take her eyes from Michael, even for a second, she didn't think he'd actually go through Meredith to get to her.

At least she hoped not.

Gen glanced over Meredith's shoulder at the small silver knife. While she didn't exactly spend a lot of time studying knives, it looked like the one he had been "protecting" her with two nights ago. Now, in the light of day, she could better see the designs that wound around the hilt and extended onto the thin blade. What looked like foreign writing of some sort was etched into the metal, though it didn't look remotely familiar to her so she couldn't be certain.

"What about it?" she finally asked, returning her nervous gaze to Michael.

"I took that from one of a group of people who tried to kill Merri," he replied.

"Right," Gen muttered.

"It’s true," Meredith said. "He saved my life."

"Nice that he’s concerned about someone’s!" Gen said.

"I wasn’t trying to kill you," Michael said. "And I have no immediate plans to, either. Let Merri go."

Slowly, she released her grip on Meredith as some of the tension dissipated from the room. Michael was right—if he intended to kill her, he probably would have grabbed his gun and shot her as soon as he knew she wouldn't really hurt Meredith. She looked over the knife again as Meredith stepped out of the way and Michael walked toward her.

"Look, I'm sorry someone was after her and all," Gen said, handing the knife to Michael then scooping up her bag. "But I don't see what—"

"What this has to do with you?" He held the knife up at eye level in front of her, keeping the tip pointed downward in a non-threatening fashion. "You can't read that?"

"Uh, no, I don't know creepy knife languages."

With a roll of his rich green eyes, he tucked the knife into a small sheath on his belt. "This blade was meant for Merri's throat. There's an identical one meant for yours as well, carried by an assassin."

"Wait... assassins?" Oh my God, this guy is fucking insane!

"Do you need a dictionary or something?"

What an asshole.

"I know what a goddamn assassin is," Gen replied sharply. "The skepticism in my voice came from disbelief rather than confusion over the word."

"Yes, assassins." His tone matched hers now, equally as sharp and annoyed, though far more intimidating.

"Why me? Oh, wait, it's my English teacher, right? She's always had it in for me, after all."

"This is serious, Gen," Meredith, who had been silent thus far, cut in.

"No, crazy is what this is, but I'm listening and eagerly awaiting his point."

Michael went to the couch not far from where she stood, but rather than take a seat on the cushion, he leaned his tall frame against the back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Does it even matter right now what my point is? You won't believe it."

"No, probably not, but I might find it amusing, so please: explain."

"Michael," Meredith pleaded. "Just tell her. Let her know it all and make up her own mind."

It's already made up, Meredith, Gen thought, but she refrained from bringing up that fact.

"What do you know about the end of the world, Genevieve?" he asked.

"Um, I think it’s scheduled for next Tuesday, according to the National Enquirer."

"Funny," he said without laughing. "It’s unfortunate you don’t know much about it, considering your role in it."

"Oh, my role in it? Where’d you hear that?"

"Reliable texts."

"Oh shit, you are a bible salesman, aren't you?" Dammit, Levi was right!

Michael ignored her. "Texts and various sources have listed the signs, and right now, the signs are here."

"And what is the end of the world going to entail?"

"What you would expect."

"So the usual pain, death, destruction, a few plagues, war, famine, and all that jazz?"

"Essentially."

"You know, you didn't deny the bible salesman thing, and this is sounding pretty Revelation-y to me."

"The powers that provided hope for the world exist in the form of three women," Meredith took over. "Known as the Children of the Apocalypse, the three would come together and be the sole force to prevent hell on Earth."

"They're going to save the world?" Genevieve asked, trying to keep the "wow, you guys are crazy" tone from her voice, but doing a poor job of it.

"So I've heard," Michael replied.

"I'm guessing I'm one of these Armageddon kids, right?"

"Children of the Apocalypse," Meredith corrected.

"Whatever."

"Yes, you're one of them, as is Merri."

"So...I'm supposed to stop the end of the world..." Gen casually slung her bag over her shoulder and wandered to the chair near where Michael sat then hopped onto the arm. "That means I've got super powers, right? So what can we do?"

He must have known she was joking—in fact, his expression of annoyance told her as much—but he indulged her nonetheless. "Each of you is different."

"But of course—it wouldn't be very fun if we were the same."

"There's a witch, a warrior, and a seer."

"What are you?" she directed to Meredith.

"The seer."

"Hmm...well, I'm pretty sure I’m not a warrior, so that leaves witch, I suppose?"

"Excellent deduction," Michael muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Because at this point the lesbian witch is so original. How do I use my super powers then? Wiggle my nose?"

"I know this seems weird, but we're serious," Meredith said as she took a seat near Michael.

"Oh, of course, I know you think you are. Tell me this, though—if I'm one of only three people who's going to be stopping the end of the world, and I have these mystical powers, why do I need this guy to protect me then?" Her gaze drifted from Meredith to Michael, to see if either of them had an explanation for that. She doubted it—crazy people weren't exactly known for their logic.

"Because you're unskilled, unprepared, weak, and useless at the moment," Michael responded nonchalantly.

"I suspect you need to rethink your brainwashing techniques, because insulting me isn't going to be helpful."

"The potential is there, you just haven't developed it yet," Meredith said, again choosing softer phrasing than her companion had.

"Or maybe I'm the wrong person. Did you try Izzy Marx? She says she's a witch. How about I get you her number and you can check." Gen stood, gave them a little wave, and started for the door. Though eager to leave, she kept on her guard in case Michael decided to throw anything else at her. She made it to the door without incident however, and spun around to face them just as she twisted the doorknob.

"Have a wonderful day, and don't ever bother me again, okay?" She gave them her sweetest smile.

"Genevieve," Meredith began as she started to stand. Michael put his hand on her shoulder and drew her back, however, shaking his head and motioning to let Gen go.

Meredith sent one last look Genevieve's way. Concern filled her face, and for a moment Gen almost felt sorry for her. It was too bad she turned out to be a raving lunatic who was friends with a madman; she might have been cool. But there was no sense lamenting the end of a friendship that never was, so Gen pushed open the front door and stepped outside.

At first she almost expected some knife-wielding, crazy assassin to be out there screaming her name and taking swipes at her. Not wanting Meredith and Michael to know they had gotten to her, though, she quickly closed the door behind her so they wouldn't see her pause and glance around before she actually left the safety of the building.

She continued down the next few streets on her way home, encountering kids playing street hockey and the odd dog-walker, but not a single assassin. The more she pondered what they had said, the more bizarre it all seemed. Not merely the apocalypse bit, but that they would involve her in it. She had never met either of them before in her life.

And it wasn't like Genevieve was opposed to being some cool save-the-world person. That would kick ass, actually. But if she'd ever, in her entire life, exhibited any sort of mystical powers, she was pretty sure she'd have remembered it.

Ahead of her was the entrance to a park. She'd seen another entrance on the other side during her trip to Meredith's place, and she realized now cutting through there would shave several minutes from her trip.

Gen found the park empty and silent. The sign outside the fence suggested to her why: no dogs were allowed. Nothing annoyed her more than that kind of park, and she'd always avoided them herself. Apparently the other residents of Newhaven felt the same way.

As she entered the park, she fished through her bag for her phone, then dialled up Levi's number.

I can't wait to tell him this, she thought wryly.

"Hey, it's Gen," she said as he picked up. "You won't believe what just happened to me—"

"Oh my god, me too! Last night was insane—"

"Hold on, me first. So I was going to Meredith's and—"

A dark, moving shape in Genevieve's peripheral vision drew her attention away from the phone call. As she turned to look, something solid collided with the side of her head. Her phone slipped from her hand and spun out of reach, and Gen fell hard on the dirt ground.

She swore under her breath, thinking she couldn't wait to fill out a police report against that damn Michael...

Then she looked up and saw four men standing around her. Two were in their late twenties, while the third was middle-aged, and the final one was a good ten years older than that.

Not one of them was Michael.

"I already talked to your friend," she said. "I told him I'm not your girl, so just take your little cult and..."

Blank eyes stared back at her, as if they didn't hear a word she said. Three of the men took out knives that matched the one Michael had, while the fourth man pulled a handgun from the pocket of his dark pants.

Sweat slithered down Genevieve's brow, but she was too terrified to breath, let alone wipe her forehead.

"This is a mistake!" she insisted. Breathe deep, be calm... "Go back and check with that Michael guy—he'll tell you."

Gen tried to scramble to her feet, but a sudden kick to her side pushed her back down. The wind knocked out of her, she gripped her side, trying to catch her breath and certain the kick had cracked a rib.

The next moments occurred as a blur; bits of images and sounds strung together like pearls, though Genevieve had little remembrance of the actual string.

She was on the ground, grumbling in pain, and almost more annoyed than scared at that point because this stupid cult had mistaken her for someone else. Then there was an odd click, and she glanced up to see the barrel of a cocked gun aimed straight at her head.

Before she could plead for her life or babble about their mistake again, the gun-wielder cried out. He squeezed the trigger, but he was already stumbling, and the bullet narrowly missed Genevieve's leg. A fifth figure had appeared near her newest attackers.

Michael's eyes met Genevieve's for a second as he looked down at her, and he uttered one single word.

"Run."

She didn't need him to tell her twice.

While Michael struggled to hold the four attackers at bay, Gen grabbed her fallen cell phone, swung her bag over her shoulder, and raced toward the other end of the park. She dared to pause for only a second to glance back and check the scene behind her, but there was only a blur of figures fighting, grappling, and seriously damaging one another. She couldn't even make out Michael, to see if he was harmed or even alive at this point.

This is insane, she thought, I should go back there and help him.. . But what could she do? Shout at them maybe, and then get smacked in the head again? She had been in one fist fight when she was in elementary school, and that had been against a girl her age—she was way out of her league now. The more the group fought, the less and less likely it seemed even Michael would be getting away from them.

Run.

His simple command echoed in her head again. With a surge of inner resolve, she backed out the gates of the park and then spun around and ran, not looking back.

Gen was nearly out of breath as she burst through the end of the long walkway that led away from the park, and stopped dead as she found herself in a small court of houses. Her abrupt exit caused the two kids playing ball on the lawn of the house near the walkway to stop their game and stare at her strangely.

Though she mashed the buttons of her mobile phone, the damn thing didn't seem to be working—the fall must have taken out something vital, because now it wouldn't even switch on.

Genevieve ran toward home again, glancing over her shoulder as she went, checking for a sign of any member of the group of crazies, be it her attackers or...well, technically Michael was an attacker too—she hadn't yet forgotten his first impression. But at that moment, if she had to see anyone following behind her, she'd prefer him.

She had slowed to a half-walk, half-run by the time she was nearing her home, but as soon as her house was in sight, she was back to a full run. Thudding up the front steps breathlessly, she pushed through the front door and crashed inside.

The car parked outside told Gen her mother was home from ranting at the central air company, and it was only a matter of moments before she was stomping through the hall, ranting at Genevieve.

"Why the hell would you just run off to someone's house without leaving a..." Rebecca Weist froze in the hallway as her gaze settled on her daughter, then she rushed forward. "Gen, what happened..."

The words stuck in Genevieve's throat.

"Gen..." Her mom had her face in her hands now, turning it as she inspected the cheek that had been hit, brows knitted together in concern. Rebecca's gaze went from one eye to the other, searching, questioning, trying to decipher what Gen was thinking. "What the hell happened?"

Gen gazed back at her mother, trying to force out the story, to tell her the truth, but something held her back.

"I...uh..." she started. This was it. She had her mom's undivided attention—she could tell her the truth. Explain what happened the other night; reveal what happened less than fifteen minutes ago. It could all be out in the open...

The shrill sound of the phone ringing interrupted her, and she felt a wave of relief as the sound broke her mother's attention for a second.

"Don't worry about that," Rebecca said as she returned her focus to her daughter. "Your dad'll get it." She waited, but the ringing continued. "Leo, pick up the goddamn phone!"

A few more moments passed, no doubt just to set her nerves on edge, then the ringing ceased as Leo finally picked up the phone.

"Now, sweetie," Rebecca was back to motherly concern as she looked at Gen once more. "What happened?"

What happened? Some people tried to kill me...

"Gen?"

Michael's words flashed in her mind again. Assassins sent for her—because of what they thought she was. What Michael thought she was too. Either they were all drinking from the same hallucinogenic-laced fruit punch...or...

"Gen, what—"

"A-a car," Gen replied at last.

I'm so going to regret this...

"A car?"

"I-I was...it was stupid of me, I wasn't paying attention, and this car was pulling out..."

"Oh God, hun, did you get the license plate? We need to phone the police and—"

"No, no, it's okay." She wasn't taking time to even think up the story at this point—the words just poured forth, mechanically almost, her tone even and emotionless. "It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention and it was backing out of a driveway. I tripped trying to get out of the way. Fell against the curb." She was surprised at how quickly the lie slipped from her lips...and how easily her mom believed it.

"It doesn't matter—they should have been watching where they were going—"

"I'm okay, Mom." Gen offered a smile. It was weak, she was sure, but after studying her daughter a few moments longer, Rebecca's look of concern seemed to soften.

She believed her.

"Come on, let's get some ice on that." Nestled in her mother's protective arm, Gen felt just a few seconds of relief and familiar security, but even that was fleeting. In a repeat of two nights ago, she almost expected someone to come barrelling through the front door at any second, wielding a weapon of some sort.

"That was Levi," her father announced as they entered the kitchen. "He's on his way over..." He paused to look at Genevieve with unabashed curiosity as she sat down at the dinette table, while her mother put an ice pack together. "Genny, I seriously hope the other guy looks worse."

"Your daughter barely missed being hit by a car, and that's all you have to say?" Rebecca shot back, thankfully explaining the situation so Gen didn't have to continue with her fabricated story.

"You sure it missed? That's one heck of a shiner."

Rebecca muttered something under her breath and shook her head.

Leo walked to Genevieve, gently took her chin in his hand and turned her head to the side so he could better view her wounds. She began to fidget under his gaze, fearful he perhaps knew something didn't add up.

"You okay, Genny?" he asked, voice full of concern and telling her, joking aside, he was troubled.

She forced another smile, this one somewhat genuine because she truly didn't like him to worry.

"I'm fine, Dad."

He leaned in to hug her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "We'll have to get you helmet just for when you're walking now if this is what happens when you try to cross a street."

"You know, this wouldn't be a problem if you'd just let me start driving," Gen suggested with a smile.

"After seeing what kind of damage you do with just your hundred and fifty pounds of all bones and hair? I think not—there's no way I'm giving you a two ton box of steel to play around with. Didn't you make it to your friend's house to work on the project?"

She was spared having to scramble for answer for a few moments as her mother pushed her father out of the way, and applied the ice pack to her face.

"I messed up the time," Gen explained. Wow, all this lying is sure as hell making me look like an idiot today—first I walk in front of a car, then I forget the time I'm supposed to meet someone. "She and her parents were about to leave for somewhere—I was supposed to be there in the morning."

"You see why you shouldn't be sleeping in all damn day?"

"Yes, Mom, I now recognize the error in my ways—all of this would have been avoided if I just got up earlier."

"If they were going somewhere, why didn't they give you a ride home?"

Gen hoped she didn't look as startled as she felt suddenly at her father calling attention to the hole in her story. While it was impossible he knew what had actually happened to her, it wasn't a far stretch to guess he knew she was lying. Normally that wasn't something he would call her on—that was her mother's job—but this time she had been physically harmed. He was relaxed on most things as far as parenting went, unless it came down to her safety.

"Full car," Gen said quickly. "The back was filled with some boxes and stuff going to a relative's house and there wasn't room for me."

"Boxes?"

"They just moved here," she replied, surprised at how easily the lies fell into place. "It was stuff they sorted through, to give to some people."

"Next time, how about you have her come here, and we'll make sure we give her a ride home so she isn't hit by a car, okay?"

Gen nodded. "Okay."

"So after all that you didn't get your project done?" her mother asked, back to hyper-parental mode.

"Yeah Mom, I planned it all so I wouldn't have to make a stupid Geography poster."

"Don't get snippy with me."

The doorbell rang then, and Gen realized with a sinking feeling that her father had said Levi was on his way over. While she was glad to see him, she remembered they had been on the phone together when she was attacked. She didn't know what he heard, but it could completely blow her story so far.

"I'll get it," Gen announced as she stood, but her mother put her hand on her shoulder and sat her back down.

"Sit there and keep your cheek from swelling."

They all knew no one needed to get the door anyway; Levi had had an open invitation to enter since he and Gen were eight. Moments after ringing the bell, Levi stepped inside, kicked off his shoes, and went in search of the home's occupants.

"Hey Mr. Weist," he called when he spotted Leo in the kitchen doorway. "Is Gen home yet?"

"At the table," Leo replied, stepping back so Levi could enter the room.

Her friend caught sight of her and his eyes grew wide.

Please don't let him say anything...

"What the hell happened—one minute you were talking to me, then I heard a bang and voices and—"

"Apparently some car backed out and nearly hit her," Rebecca answered before Gen could. "She tripped and smacked her head on the curb."

"I thought maybe it was that g—"

Conscious of her parents watching, Gen tried to warn him with her eyes and the slight shake of her head. Thankfully, he caught the gesture right away and scrambled to correct himself.

"That maybe you were just hanging up on me. Because...you didn't call me back earlier. That was mean of you. You're a bad friend."

While lying through his teeth wasn't his forte, neither of Gen's parents seemed to notice. Leo wandered back toward the T.V. room while Rebecca checked once more on Gen's cheek, then went to busy herself with obsessively dusting the downstairs hallway.

Still concerned they might be listening in, Gen stood and gestured for Levi to follow. It wasn't until the two reached her room upstairs—with the door closed—that either dared speak.

"Did that asshole come after you again?" he said angrily and in a loud voice Gen hoped her mother didn't hear.

"Shh! And no, of course not!"

"Then why were you making the secret blinking code to keep me from mentioning him?"

"We have a secret blinking code?"

"Damn it, Genevieve—"

"Okay, okay." Time to stop stalling. "I just don't want Mom and Dad worrying about that guy bugging me, so I didn't tell them, and I don't want you to tell them either." At least not until I know for sure what's going on...

"But you already did tell them—you were complaining the other day about how they didn't believe you!"

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

"Gen—"

"Really, I mean it. I haven't seen him hanging around at all, so you probably scared him away for good. It's okay."

"If you say so," he said, taking a seat on the rattan chair in the corner of her room.

Gen hopped on her bed and discarded the ice pack to the wastebasket by her nightstand. She glanced in the mirror to see her red, swollen cheek, and winced at the sight. A nasty bruise was forming. Even if she wore makeup, there was no way in hell she'd be covering that up.

"So, aren't you going to ask me about my game?"

"I'm guessing you lost," she said.

Levi rolled his eyes. "Of course. That's not my news, though—guess who showed up."

"Hopefully no talent scouts."

"Sage," he revealed with a grin.

"Sure she did." What a liar.

"She did!"

"Hayden was able to make it then?"

"Nope."

"You are not seriously sitting there across from me, trying to tell me Sage Bethany, Queen Bitch—"

"Hey—"

"—who's been ignoring you for the past two years, went to watch you lose your game, unaccompanied by Hayden or any other friends she might possibly have in some alternate universe?"

"She has friends...probably. She's a very deep and complex person."

"Sure she is."

"That's not half of it though. She left right after the game, and I followed her. She jogged home through the creek—"

"This story is making you sound like serial killer material, you know."

"Just listen! I was going to leave, and then there were these guys who followed and they tried to mug her!"

Gen could only imagine how pale her face went, though Levi continued rambling on about the exciting details of his story. Four men. Carrying weapons. Intent on killing Sage...

"So she totally kicks their collective ass! I mean, I've never seen anything like that! Hayden said she has like all these martial arts classes and stuff but she never competes so I had idea she was that serious, but it was like something out of a movie—it was amazing!"

Each of you is different—there's the witch, the warrior, and the seer...

"And then this alien flew down from Earth's secret second moon and gave a pack of chipmunks abortions while Kim Jong Il and me ate popcorn and watched."

"What?"

"Goddamn, I knew you weren't listening!"

"No, no, I was, I promise."

"Well then, what do you think?" he asked, sitting forward eagerly, probably waiting for her to leap up and be just as excited with him.

I'm starting to think Michael might not be so crazy...

"I think you fell and hit your head," she replied instead of giving him her thoughts.

"Well, I think you should give her a call and see about some self defense lessons sometime."

I think I need to call her about more than just that.