Something had changed. Something big. Michael didn't know how he knew, but he knew. There was a sense, he couldn't quite place it, but something was different. Maybe it was something in the air. Maybe he was paranoid, but he had the constant feeling that someone - something,  was watching him. 

Maybe it was in his head. Or he was simply nervous about something, he didn't know what for he had no reason to be nervous, but the human brain works in strange ways. 

Shaking with uneasiness, Michael pulled on his sweater over his head, messing with his hair and grabbing his car keys. Despite the ominous feeling, he decided that he was going to have a good day. That was his philosophy, if he had a good day, every day, than every good day would turn into a good life. And his good life would inspire others in a butterfly effect, spanning the whole world until everyone had a good day all that same time.

Damn those months of therapy really messed him up. 

Of course he knew it was stupid, no way that would actually happen. But that wasn't the point, it was to inspire him to have a good day. Michael believed that positivity was the solution to most people's problems. All you had to do was see it in a new way, a different angle. S ure, Jeremy had started calling him a walking cat poster, but it was better than the days when he wouldn't talk to him at all.

A perfect example of his philosophy. He smiled, determined to look for the good and therefore, have a good day.

Little did he know that it would certainly not be a good day.

Michael started his car, turning up his music, Don't Stop Believin,' a classic. Ever since last semester, when all that shit had happened with Jeremy and the Squip, he had started listening to some upbeat music. His parents had shipped him off to "therapy," but it hadn't been too bad, he actually enjoyed himself. 

Sitting in a chair, talking about shit with a person who pretended to care about his problems because they got paid, it was great. Michael laughed a little, pulling out of the drive way and heading to Jeremy's house because, even with his stupid car, he served as taxi service for his best friend.

     Jeremy was waiting on his front porch, blue cardigan pulled up to his nose to protect himself from the cold January weather. He was huddled on the last step, watching him through heavy lids as he pulled up. "Hey bro," Michael called, "the limo has arrived!"

Those startling blue eyes rolled as Jeremy hauled himself off the ground and hurried towards Michael's car, slamming the door shut. Michael smiled at his friend, driving off towards their day of imprisonment, which, was still going to be good imprisonment because he was learning, and he was determined to have a good day.

Chills rushed through him as he thought this, but Michael played it off as the rush of cold air Jeremy had brought in by opening the door. He looked at the heat dial, which was on full blast. Yet he was still cold. "You cold, Jere?"

 His friend shook his head, "Its burning up in here. Why do you keep it so hot?"

 Uneasiness rushed through his system, his heart began to pound in his ears. That same something from earlier had followed him here, that strange feeling. It had grown stronger around Jeremy, as if his friend were a source of the something, or at least, had a role to play in its sudden appearance. A presence, not that of Jeremy or Michael, seemed to be in the car with them. Michael could feel it, watching, almost amusingly, as if it were laughing at his discomfort.

 Not that that would change his good day, he had sushi in his lunch bag, a slushi in the cup holder, and his best friend frowning at him. Okay, without the frown it was a recipe for an absolutely perfect day.

Confident began playing and he turned the music up, bopping his head along. Jeremy's frown deepened, "Why do you listen to such shitty music?"

 Michael scoffed, turning it up even louder, "It is good for the soul."

Jeremy groaned and shook his head, reaching over to turn the music down, only to have Michael's hand slap him away. Michael was a strong believer in "driver picks the music." Jeremy, however, was not a fan of this rule,  " Maybe it's good for the soul, but it's horrible on the ears. "

 "You want to get out and walk?"

 Jeremy's hands went up defensively, and he became silent, much to Michael's pleasure. No one got to diss his happy music. He smiled to himself, because it was his day today. 

With a positive attitude and some Areosmith booming through his speakers, Michael parked in the school lot, turning off his car and getting out. Jeremy walked next to him, pulling his cardigan to his nose, shivering. The guy had become very frail over the last few months, Michael had grown a little worried. Maybe it had something to do with the Squip incident. He watched Jeremy hunch over and look at his shoes as they battled the hallway, their peers surrounding them, laughing, yelling, and gossiping. His friend seemed nervous and fidgety, Michael couldn't blame him, Jeremy been through a lot.

Ever since the Play, Jeremy had been a little freaked around a large group of people, it's not as if anyone brought it up anymore, but there was always a sense of foreboding around him. He was the guy who almost destroyed the school, the guy who wanted to be cool so much he bought a Japanese super computer to try and help him. Even though others had had a SQUIP, no one was very public about it. People simply found it easier to blame Jeremy. 

Except Michael. 

After it all happened, Michael was pretty much Jeremy's only friend besides Rich, and Rich was, well, Rich. The guy was nice, but also incredibly inconsiderate. Or maybe he was just really stupid when it came to social  interactions. No wonder how had been a Squip user, he had very bad social skills. Maybe it had something to do with his father, Michael knew there was a backstory, but only knew that Rich had family problems. 

Whatever the case, Michael was basically Jeremy's one friend. Real, honest to goodness, no strings attached - friend. Jeremy smiled sadly at him, as if he could somehow sense his thoughts, "I'm going to head off to class, see you at lunch, kay?"

 Michael nodded, waving at Jeremy before heading off. He had made a bad habit of skipping class every so often, and today was one of those days. A day where he needed to chill with a blunt and some discontinued sodas.I

The way he saw it, skipping class was a way to keep him sane. A sort of self-care, relaxation time. Just him his soda and a blunt, without anyone bothering or judging him. 

He found a nice place outside the school, a little dank and creepy, but it fit perfectly for his purposes. He lit one of his blunts and inhaled deeply, grabbing one of his bottles of discontinued soda, this time it was Mountain Dew Revolution, which tasted very strange. 

He thought of that feeling, the feeling that had haunted him that morning. Something had changed, he didn't know what, but that sense, that feeling he felt deep inside his bones, was growing and expanding into a fear, an irrational fear that shook him to his core.

Michael sighed as he took another hit. He pushed on his headphones, blaring Lady Gaga through them, jamming out as he walked back towards school for lunch.

      Not soon enough, school was over and Michael found himself in that same dank and creepy place with Jeremy sitting next to him. Jeremy was taste testing the Mountain Dew Revolution, which he said tasted like those skylight snowballs, although Michael said it was more fruity. 

Jeremy sighed, looking around him as if he had been here before. As of this place hosted some sort of dark memory he had buried and didn't want to dig up. Taking the blunt from Michael and inhaling the smoke, Jeremy spoke, "No one likes me here, Michael."

 He winced, knowing it was true, "That's not true."

Blue eyes rolling, Jeremy collapsed against him, "Don't deny it, I know it's true. I mess everything up, no one, no one likes me."

 Michael shook his head, "Who cares? If they want to be petty and hate on a perfectly amazing person like yourself, let them, but you are a great person, if they don't like you, it's their loss. Remember what I said? It's never been a better time to be a loser."

Uncomfortable silence fell between them as Michael thought over what he said. Jeremy had been right, he had messed everything up, and no one had forgiven him. No one would. Their peers would never truly forgive Jeremy for what he'd done. But Michael thought they'd eventually forget, becoming obsessed with the next big tragedy, whatever that may be. But nothing had really happened since last semester, since Squip. 

 Jeremy was leaning up against his shoulder, Michael gazed at him through the corner of his eye, his friend had seemed down ever since the Play. Stabbing in the dark for some conversation, Michael asked, "Hey, what ever happened to Christine?"

 Jeremy shuttered, "Things uh, things didn't work out. She wasn't, she wasn't uh...my type."

Interesting. He decided not to press the matter further, standing up and offering Jeremy a hand. Michael drove his friend home, not talking the entire way. His good day had turned into an average one. They always turned into average ones.

He pulled into his driveway, every day, no matter how hard he tried, was never especially good. He could never say "I had a good day today," because he never did. They were regular and boring, nothing special ever happened.

No matter how many stupid songs he listened to or old fashioned sodas he drank, he never had a good day. There was just nothing unique about him. Until today, today was the day things changed. That feeling, that ominous, unnerving sense returned with a vengeance as soon as he stepped through the doors of his house.

Something different.

 Something strange.

 Michael set his keys down and trudged up to his room, the feeling still haunting him. As if something were there, something intelligent and alive.

He grabbed the door handle, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, opening the door to.... Nothing.

No one.

 That irrational fear of something, something that had been following him since the Play had simply been that, irrational. He turned around to close the door, and there, standing in the doorway, brows furrowed and white hair perfectly styled, was the last person he would ever expect to see, "Hey Michael," said the Squip, "we need to talk."