Patricia was in a sour mood. She didn't want to work today. All she wanted to do was crawl into her mental hole and fall away from the world around her. Not only was she late to chemistry and not permitted to go to class (making her 'absent' and possibly truant) but when she took her seat in Honors English, she had spit balls shot all over her as kids laughed when she tear up. Then the teacher sent her to the principle's office for 'disturbing the class'. She had to serve detention right after school, which made her late for work. She ran halfway to save time, but was exhausted after tripping and falling on the tracks and ripping her skirt against the edges of the fence hole she crossed through.

She was hot, late, in pain, and angry. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Hey!" Patricia whipped her head around at the sound of the voice. It was a familiar voice. The voice of Justin Timberlake. Her thoughts were confirmed as he came jogging up the road to meet her at the corner of his block with a wide grin. His baby blue button up was tucked neatly into his pressed tan khakis, but the top by the collar was unbuttoning, revealing his white undershirt. Patricia shyly looked away when he approached her, a little out of breath with flushed cheeks.

"Hey," she said to her shiny school shoes. Justin smile flattered.

"You okay?" Justin asked, looking over her disheveled appearance.

"Just peachy," she sighed sarcastically. She looked up to see Justin raise a brow.

"You look like you had a bad day," he prodded, "And your skirt's all ripped up."

"That was the fence up by the tracks," Patricia said, gesturing behind her, "I cut through to get here faster."

"Is that why you're upset?" he asked gently. Patricia shrugged.

"Maybe," Patricia said, "But honestly, I'm fine, Justin."

"Wow, I didn't have to correct you," he joked. Patricia glanced down to catch the white of his teeth behind his pink lips. She moved her eyes up to meet his, but regretted it. They were so blue with the sparkle of the sunny day in them. They always looked better when he wore blue for some reason. Patricia always noticed that.

"I think I'll get used to calling you Justin soon enough," she smirked, "I dunno if your mama likes it though." Justin waved her off, rolling his eyes.

"My mama doesn't like much of anything," he sighed, "I swear, I love her, but sometimes I just wanna kick her or somethin'."

"Justin!" Patricia scolded, but giggled a bit at the thought. Justin let out a chuckle.

"What?" he smiled, "You probably want to kick her more than anybody."

"No, I don't believe in hittin' elders," Patricia smiled, "Besides, anger just makes you sick. Your mama hates me, but I plan on just killin' her with kindness. That's what mama says works best. Love always overcomes the hate." Justin looked over her face, taking in the glow of the sun against her brown tone. It almost looked like she was shimmering with a thin layer of gold. Justin wondered if she used fancy soaps like those other girls, but he doubted it. Patricia didn't have the money to spend on things like that. Her glow was au natural and it only made him in awe more.

"How is your mama anyway?" Justin asked when Patty looked away shyly during his intense gazing. Patricia shrugged, getting uncomfortable with the topic. She began to walk towards his home. Justin followed suit.

"She's all right, I guess," Patricia sighed, "Not much has changed."

"Not even with the medicine?" Justin asked and Patricia sighed, shaking her head. She still couldn't get the medicine. She had to wait to get paid at the end of the week to scrounge up enough money. She was wiped out by the gas bill and used what little bit of college fund money she had for her brother's uniform and a pair of new boots he needed.

"No," Patricia lied, "Medicine's not helping."

"That just doesn't make any sense," Justin agonized, "Maybe she needs a stronger kind?" Patricia shrugged, staring right ahead so she wouldn't have to look him in the eyes.

"Maybe," Patricia said softly as she finally reached his home. They walked up the stairs in sync. Justin brushed past her to get to the door and unlock it.

"Maybe I'll get my dad to call Dr. Goldberg and see if -" he began.

"No!" Patricia panicked, causing Justin to pause his movements to stare at her strangely, "I mean, don't go through all that trouble. Your daddy has enough work to do. My mama ain't his concern."

"Patty, please," Justin pleaded, his eyes softening against hers. She felt her knees buck. "Your mama means something to our family. And she certainly means a lot to yours. My dad has a lot of connections in and out of this town. If I ask him, he'll be more than happy to help out. I don't want anything bad to happen if we wait too long, ya know?" Patty knew all right. She knew her mother's cough was getting worse and worse and that she barely got any sleep because she spent most of the night by her bed praying over and over again.

"I don't want any charity," she stubbornly denied, trying to contain her emotions, but her voice wavered. "I'm handlin' this the best way I know how."

"I know that," Justin assured, reaching out to touch her, but deciding against it. He played with the keys in his hands instead. "But you're dealing with a lot. You're as young as me and I can't imagine doin' what you're doin'. I just wanna help."

"Why do you care so much?" Patty asked, shrugging a bit. She hugged her schoolbooks to her chest. "I mean... I don't get it."

"I just want to help," Justin said softly. His cheeks were reddening more and more with each passing second.

"But..." Patty didn't know how to say what she was trying to say, but she couldn't understand him. He said hi to her in public and gave her money for her mom. He defended her against his own mother... He touched her at the sink and didn't act like she was diseased. Half the white people in her class wouldn't even sit next to her and anyone that did would ignore her existence or throw things at her. He treated her like she was...normal. Like she was almost a white girl and not some embarrassing black housemaid he was forced to be around. If her race wasn't enough, the difference in their financial class was certainly supposed to put a dent in his impression of her.

"Patricia, you're a good person and I see that," Justin said gently, "And I...like...good people." He turned back to the door and mumbled something she couldn't make out before opening the door. He stood to the side and gestured for Patricia to pass through first. She bowed her head in thanks and made her way inside. She didn't deny herself a whiff of his cologne as she moved past him. He always smelled so good, even after running around school all day.

"There's a lot of good people in the world," Patricia said, smirking a little, "I guess I do deserve some kind of prize for getting you through Shakespeare."

"Hey!" Justin complained, "I was a little unsure in the beginning, but I got through it real well. Even got a B plus on my paper this mornin'." He was beaming and Patricia clapped for him as he bowed.

"Well, go 'head, boy!" she giggled, "Who woulda thought you'd get through it after all that cryin'. I almost drowned in ya tears." Justin laughed before gasping a little in realization.

"I almost forgot," he said, smiling brightly at Patricia, "Wait here a minute." He dashed off before she could even argue and Patricia walked over to the lamp table and tucked her schoolbooks underneath it. She was about to agonize over the twenty pounds of math she had to do when Justin's shoe's skidded to a stop inside the living room. She stood and he walked over to her, holding a pair of white tickets in his hands.

"What are those?" Patricia asked, curious.

"These are tickets to 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'," Justin said smugly, "Pretty good seats too. Right by the stage."

"That's amazin'," Patricia said in awe. "I'm so jealous."

"No need to be," he told her sweetly, "They're for you." Patricia held her breath for a second before shaking her head.

"Oh no, Justin," she denied, "I can't do that..."

"Why not?" he asked, "I paid good money for these, so you have to go. It's Saturday night at Merriam Theatre." Patricia squealed despite herself.

"Oh my, that's the most beautiful theaters ever!" she gushed, "People from all over go there."

"That's what I hear," Justin smiled brightly, "So, you'll go?"

"Of course! I mean, you got 'em already and there's no sense in wastin' 'em," Patricia beamed, "Oh, Penny's gonna be so excited! We'll wear our church dresses and -"

"Wait," Justin interrupted her rambling and she looked up into his confused eyes, "Penny?"

"Well, she's my best friend," Patricia explained, "I'm sure you've seen her 'round. She's always at my hip."

"No, I know her," Justin said, sighing a bit, "But I don't think you're understandin' me here."

"What?" Patricia asked dumbly, confused by the darkening redness in Justin's cheeks again.

"Patricia..." he trailed off a bit, trying to collect his thoughts, "These tickets are for you...and me." Patricia tried to register what he was saying, but it didn't make any sense.

"Wait," Patricia said, taking the tickets from his hands. Seats six and seven were assigned on the back. If these were for them, they would have to sit next to one another. In public.

Justin saw the look on Patricia's face. It looked pained, confused, and slightly disappointed. He was mentally kicking himself within in a second. "Ya know what? Forget it. I don't like Shakespeare anyway. Call up Penny and let her know. Y'all can get all girl-ed up and whatnot..." He was trying to smile, but it kept falling. He felt himself getting emotional over the rejection and started backing away. Patricia reached out and grabbed his hand before he could escape.

"Wait a minute," Patricia said, placing her hand back to her side. The electricity of his skin on hers was distracting. "It's not that I don't wanna go with you... In fact, I think it would be pretty funny to watch you dose off several times before they even dim the lights..." She smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but Justin's weak smirk was all she got in return.

"It's okay, Patty," he assured, sounding exactly the opposite of okay, "I just thought it would be fun, but it makes more sense to go with your friend."

"But you're my friend too?" Patricia said, but she didn't sound as confident as she wanted to.

"Am I?" Justin asked, but Patricia just shrugged. His tone was too hard to decipher. She didn't know if the idea upset him or not.

"I would like to be your friend," she tried again, "I've known ya almost all my life and I still don't know ya as well as I should."

"Well, that might have somethin' to do with us always being shy around each other," Justin said, getting red again, "It's hard to talk to you."

"Sorry..." Patricia mumbled.

"Not your fault," Justin assured, "You can be real quiet. I dunno if I'm botherin' you or if you're bein' nice and lettin' me talk to ya..."

"I like talkin' to ya and I like the idea of goin' to this play, but Justin... together?" Patricia was so confused. Maybe he wasn't living in the same town as her in his mind, but going to something that public with somebody who looks nothing like you would surely stir some trouble.

"Why not?" he asked, "Things aren't like that anymore."

"On what planet?" Patricia scoffed, "Justin, just walkin' up your block is crazy. Don't you see the neighbors starin' out their windows, wonderin' why you're walkin' next to me?"

"No," he answered without hesistation, "I'm too busy starin' at you." Patricia swallowed down nervously when he refused to look away from her eyes, despite the cherry colored blotches on his cheeks. She shifted from foot to foot, letting the silence make the butterflies in her gut flutter even more.

"Well...ya shouldn't be," she said simply.

"Starin' or not noticin'?" he asked, amused that she could no longer look him in the face. He started to feel more in control and his cheeks weren't as red anymore.

"Both," she whispered, "Why are you bein' so weird? Ain't there enough white girls to stare at?" Justin shrugged.

"I guess not," he said simply, "I'm sorry, but I can't pay attention to ignorant folk. If I like spendin' time with ya, then that's what I like. Plain and simple."

"It's not plain and simple," Patty argued. "I guess it might be for you 'cause you're not the one runnin' from school grounds so nobody picks fights with ya. You're not the one checkin' for tacks on your seat or bein' kicked out of class for cryin' after havin' spit balls thrown at ya all afternoon while the teacher pretends to be blind to it until you start ballin'..." Patricia rambled and Justin's eyes widened in shock as he gently rubbed her shoulders. Patricia looked up because of the jolt of electric he caused.

"That happened today?" he asked in disbelief.

"That happens every day," Patricia sniffled, surprised that tears had fallen from her eyes. Justin's large palms left her shoulders to wipe her cheeks. She turned away, embarrassed by her sadness and the pained look in his eyes. She didn't want him pitying her.

"I'm so sorry..." he said softly, not knowing what else to do. "Do you know who it was?"

"Everybody in my classes," she sighed, shaking her head.

"There has to be a leader in the pack," Justin said, running his hand along her jaw to gently guide her to face him. She trembled beneath his touch and he smirked a little.

"I think his name is Shane," Patricia said, "He's the one who spit at me first."

"Shane Collins?" Justin asked, raising a questioning brow. Patricia nodded immediately.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "With the dark hair." Justin visualized him and locked it in his mind.

"I'll talk to him," he promised. Patricia adamantly shook her head.

"No!" she griped, "He ain't gonna listen to you no way. You'll make things worst. Everybody's gonna wanna know why you spoke to him for me and -"

"Calm down," Justin said smoothly, "I'll just tell him that his bullyin' is making you late for work and disrupting my household schedule."

"Justin -"

"Listen, I know him," Justin cooed, "All we need is a few minutes together and you'll be fine for the rest of the year - I promise." Patricia could see the certainty in his eyes, so she just nodded. Knowing Justin, he'd talk to Shane anyhow. She wasn't going to stop him once his mind was made.

"Fine," she relented. "Here. Take the tickets back. Some other girl can go with you."

"If I'm not watchin' it without you, there's no point," Justin said, "Take Penny. Have fun and tell me all about it so I can dose off here." They laughed, but Patricia still held out her hand.

"These seats are too good," she told him, "I can't sit where you would sit."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Justin asked. Patricia really wondered if he were from Tennessee at all.

"If I bought these tickets, they would be all the way in the far back corner with the rest of the colored people. No white ticket man is gonna give me front and center seats."

"It was first come first serve," Justin argued.

"Justin, trust me. Go to that play and see where you are and where I would've been. There's no labels on the seats, but there's an understanding." She placed the tickets in his palm and there was another spark. She wondered if he felt them too. "There're so many girls who'd die to go with ya. Just ask."

"I'm not much into dead chicks," Justin joked, sadly taking the tickets since it was clear she would not go. "I guess I'll ask around then."

"I'm really sorry," Patricia said.

"Not your fault," he assured again, "Thanks for helping me with my work anyway."

"No problem," Patricia assured, "But...I'd better get started on dinner." Justin nodded, stepping aside so she could make her way to the kitchen. He stared at the tickets in his hands. There were plenty of girls who'd love to go. Stacey Ambler has been following him around for months. He still owed Maryellen Compton a phone call and Jessica Stanley was on his waiting list as well. They were cheerleaders and pretty and white. Just what a footballer like himself should have on his arm, but none of them made him secretly love Shakespeare. None of them made him warm and tingly without taking their clothes off. None of them would give up a beautiful night at a play they love with a boy they at least considered a friend to satisfy the selfish, narrow minds of the ignorant town they lived in.

None of them were Patricia Hurley and with that, Justin tucked the tickets in his pockets and planned to give them to his parents as a random gift. He wouldn't spend his night out with a girl he didn't like when he could ask Patricia to help him study while his parents were gone. With any other girl, studying would've been a code word for fooling around, but Patricia Hurley was a force to be reckoned with when it came to academics. Justin would be doing well on his English exam on Monday thanks to her and he couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday night.

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Patricia fought the weight of her tired lids as she nodded off in class before jumping up in her seat when she realized she was losing consciousness. Her hands rubbed her eyelids in an effort to wake herself, but it turned into a soothing massage that had her falling forward in her seat. Just before her head could hit the desk, the loud smack of a ruler did. Patricia jumped back as her peers cackled. She was still in a daze when she met the scowl of Mrs. Anderson.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Hurley, but am I interruptin' your scheduled nap?" she growled sarcastically. Patricia involuntarily wrinkled her nose as the stale smell of her breath ran up her nose. She was too tired to be polite. She couldn't stop staring at the hairy mole on Mrs. Anderson's saggy old chin, a grayish-black on her pale white skin.

"I'm sorry," Patricia slurred.

"Are you drunk?" Mrs. Anderson accused and the class instigated accordingly with exaggerated gasps and 'oh's. Patricia felt a lump form in her throat. Drunk, no. Tired from working all week and dealing with her mother's illness, and getting her brother to school, fed, and washed every day while doing her school work and helping Justin with his... yes.

"No," she squeaked out, sounding guilty and embarrassed in her meekness.

"Ya know she lyin', Mrs. Anderson," Patrick Simmers laughed, tossing his head of light brown curls when he nodded in Patricia's direction, "Them niggers do nothin' but drink. Ain't that right, Miss. Hurley?" His name-calling had cut her deep and his mockery of her ever being considered a 'Miss' had cut her deeper. But, as usually, they both had gone unnoticed by Mrs. Anderson whose only acknowledgment of Patrick speaking was the quick roll of her eyes when the class chorused laughter.

Patricia shrunk into her seat. Wide-awake now and painfully anguished. She had no friends in Physics. There was only one black boy in the far left hand corner of the room who was too busy with his nose in the book for anyone to care for him. Patricia was always the target of ridicule. She wondered if she was cursed and why her attempts to remain unseen failed so miserably. Why couldn't see disappear in her corner desk like her peer? She envied his invisibility. Especially now. Especially when she felt so inhuman; like a beaten dog, whimpering in some dark street. Abused and insignificant.

The laughter only continued as Patrick Simmers badgered Patricia on about her drinking habits. He asked what kind of whiskey she liked and had her daddy thought her how to take shots like a man. The room was deafening as cackles bounced off the walls. Patricia's breathing was labored as she tried to will herself not to cry. She stared at the carefully sketched diagrams of planets she had drawn on the lined pages of her notebook. Her notes were sloppy toward the end where she was falling asleep, but she had written almost every word Mrs. Anderson said. She loved the planets and the stars. She loved learning about the universe and how big it was. She loved the mysteries. Any other aspect of science was not for her, but Patricia found peace in knowing that there was more to life than this world she lived in. There were bigger things at work. The studies of the stars helped her keep her faith, which wavered from time to time, especially now when she felt completely alone.

"That's enough, Mr. Simmers," Mrs. Anderson finally spoke, smacking her ruler on the board to demand silence. The moment her demands were met, however, the bell rang and the room buzzed happily as everyone rose from their seats. Patricia didn't move. It was easier to leave when she wasn't being shoved out the door with her books being slapped down to the floor.

"Catch ya later, monkey," Patrick cackled as yanked the bushel of thick hair sprouting from her ponytail. Patricia hissed in pain as Patrick released her, and high-fived his friends who laughed loudly before disappearing out into the hall. Patricia sighed and gathered her books, her scalp throbbing where he pulled. At least she hadn't cried, she thought, but the moment she went to mentally pat herself on the back, her sadness built up another lump in her throat. But she swallowed it down, getting up from her seat. She trailed tiredly out into the hall, unaware of everything around her. All the kids were so happy because it was Friday. They had weekend plans and Patricia was heading straight to work again.

"Hey, Patty!" Penny called, snapping Patricia from her daze. She looked up to see her best friend smiling brightly at her, as if she won the lottery. Patricia knew that look. Something good had happened.

"What's goin' on?" Patricia asked as Penny rolled her eyes, still smiling.

"Nothin'," she cheesed, making Patricia grunt in displeasure.

"Girl, don't make me crack ya lil' bony butt," she joked, "What's goin' on and why haven't ya told me yet?"

"Ain't nothin' to tell," Penny said carefully, "I mean... I could tell ya that I'm finally lettin' old Eddy take me out, but ya wouldn't wanna know nothin' 'bout that..." Patricia squealed and yanked Penny out of a white girl's way before they could brush shoulders. Penny would've been livid had the girl pushed her and Patricia didn't want to any more drama (like Penny's funeral).

"Oooh, child!" Patty laughed, "And ya kept on sayin' he ain't never gettin' wit' ya and look at y'all!"

"You sound like my mama," Penny complained, smirking still.

"Good to know mama approves," Patricia grinned, "I'm so happy for y'all. Now we can get a break from all his beggin'."

"Yeah, we can," Penny agreed, grinning, "But he is kinda cute, ain't he? I ain't gonna date no ugly boy 'cause he nice and sweet on me."

Patricia rolled her eyes. Penny was all about appearances sometimes. "That boy is good lookin'," Patricia assured, "Heck, if he gave me half the time he gives ya, we'd be havin' babies by now."

"Oh please," Penny scoffed, "Do ya even know where babies come from?" Patricia rolled her eyes at Penny who laughed.

"Yes, I do," Patricia grumbled, "Hopefully, none will be comin' outta you anytime soon. I'd feel so bad for the lil' suckers." Penny gasped and laughed, playfully shoving her friend. They chattered happily up the hallway, stopping at Penny's locker so she could put her books away. They were almost out the door when they heard the ruckus. There were so many kids running outside, but it wasn't the usually Friday rush of freedom. It seemed like there was something really good going on. Even the black kids were running up the road.

Penny and Patty came to the door of the school, pushed out completely by the flow of kids trying to get out. Patricia squinted into the sun, trying to focus on the crowd at the end of the block. There was a huge huddle; cheering and egging on could be heard from the distance. Patricia felt her stomach tighten uneasily. She knew exactly what was going on.

"There's a fight up the road," Patricia said, pouting. Patricia hated violence. Penny rolled her eyes.

"If them white people goin', it's definitely one of them," she concluded, "Besides, ain't no colored stupid enough to fight that close to school. They'd shoot them both before the fight even starts." Patricia nodded in silent agreement, turning to look away just as two white boys ran past.

"My money's on Collins, man!" one yelled.

"No way! Timberlake's on top, last I heard," the other argued. Patricia halted her steps, gasping as she turned back to the scene at the end of the road, horrified.

"Patty what the hell -" Penny started, but Patricia had went off running in the direction of the crowd. "Patricia! Patricia!" She heard her friend call, her voice getting lighter and lighter as her legs ran full speed. Patricia had no idea what she was going to do once she reached the crowd, but her gut had knotted so ferociously at the mention of Justin's name. Collins and Timberlake. Patty couldn't imagine what had caused such a ruckus. Why would Justin fight? He had football and college to worry about. Senior year was most important. Collins was a friend, he said. Collins and him would just talk, he assured. Patty tried not to think she was the source of this chaos. The idea was too ridiculous. Why would Justin ever fight over her?

The noise of the crowd was booming and Patty was right there, the backs of dozens of students to her as she tried her best to see. She didn't really want to, but she had to know. She pushed through, her petite frame coming in handy as she wiggled through the crowd. She could hear the scuffling of two bodies against the dirt road. She heard the grunts and growls of two boys. Fist to flesh and flesh to fist. The sounds were too much, but she had a terrible image of Justin, beaten and battered and she couldn't stop herself from breaking through, finally getting to the other side of the bodies.

Patricia gasped as Justin's soft, baby face gleamed with sweat, dirt, and blood. Shane was on top of him with a ghastly purpled eye and the blood coming from his nose. Justin's lip was bleeding and there was a scar leaking from his forehead as he struggled to flip Shane from him. Shane had pinned him down with both hands, momentarily releasing one of Justin's wrists to punch Justin hard against his cheek. Patricia looked away and missed the moment, but the crowd cheered. She turned back in time to see Justin head butt Shane before flipping him over. He was now on top. Justin wasted no time in his newfound position. His fists flew, hitting each side of Shane's face in an unbelievably smooth rhythm. The crowd roared like wild beasts, jumping and cheering. Patricia looked at Justin's face, not believing the darkness in his eyes. He looked so out of it. So demonic and predatory. He slowed his punches and then stopped to stand up slowly, exhausted as his chest heaved beneath his torn white button up.

The crowd clapped as Shane wearily began to rise. Justin stepped back as Shane did so, ready to pounce at any moment. Patricia grimaced when Justin took a moment to spit out blood from his mouth. She saw the red had stained his pristine white teeth when he hissed groaned in what could only be pain. Shane staggered, but stood, his breath labored, his eyes swollen, his nose bleeding, and his cheeks bruised. There was a hint of matching purple on Justin's face as well, but there was just no comparison.

"You...ya.." Shane slurred, stumbling back as the crowd shifted to make him room. He laughed. He laughed so loud as he wiped his nose sloppily with the back of his hand. Patricia's heart went out to the boy, despite this prior attacks on her. She didn't like pain or hurt or suffering. She didn't believe in that revenge. Even if she joked about it or even thought about it seriously, she could never inflict pain on someone.

"You loss, boy!" Somebody called out from the crowd, making the spectators laugh.

"Shut up!" Shane called out, spitting out blood a second later, "At least I ain't no nigger lover!" The crowd 'oh'ed and the white kids whistled while the blacks booed. Patricia's gut knotted when she saw the look on Justin's face. It seemed like he had been punched in the gut at the words. She guessed he was furious to be accused of liking blacks. That wasn't a very popular stigma to have among white students.

Justin's eyes narrowed at Collins as the hooting continued. He took two solid steps forward and in one swift second, his fist came flying at the unlucky jaw of the unlucky Collins boy. There was a loud crack that sent the students screaming in mocked pain as Shane fell back into the crowd. Girls shrieked and guys groaned, moving out of his body's way. Shane fell on top of some unlucky bystanders and the crowd laughed briefly before there was a hurried panic.

"Teachers!"

"Cops!"

"Oh shit!"

The array of screams came from all directions as the crowd ran off like cockroaches. Patricia was too terrified to stay, but Justin's knees gave out and he fell down tiredly. She could see the cops grabbing random students and teachers catching faces and handing out detention slips. She would be caught if she didn't run. Patricia couldn't go to jail. She couldn't serve detention and be late again.

"Patty, lets go!" From nowhere, Penny came running towards her, grabbing her arm before she could protest. Patricia's eyes ripped away from Justin's figure as cops knelt down beside him. She ran, glancing backward and tripping over her feet as Penny impatiently dragged her along. She couldn't be sure, but she could've sworn Justin had caught her eye and tried to smile, but Penny had yanked her arm and dragged her up a small street before she could be sure. She couldn't get his face out of her head as she ran, feeling guilty and scared for his safety.

What would she tell his parents? Should she even mention she was around? Patricia's gut knotted up further. Why did he have to fight Collins? Why had he smiled? Did he even smile? Why did she get the feeling that she really didn't want to know?