I didn't let Angel inside. Though I assumed my not making action wouldn't matter. With his size he could have slammed one of those padded shoulders into the window and let himself in. So I waited in defense.

But he stood. Took a moment to wait for another response from me, and slid off the roof without a sound.

My mother eventually came up stairs to check up on me. Neither of us spoke about the encounter with the intruder. In fact, all she said was: "I don't think it was anything to worry about. I'm not saying I don't believe you saw something, I'm sure you did, but there are other things much worse than a man climbing on our rooftops."

I would have argued with her if I didn't know the truth. Probably would have explained how the man had a bow and arrow and was doing his damn best to pin my head to our back gate. But I did know something. It didn't make sense to me: none of it made sense, in fact. If she wasn't going to admit that she had spoken with the man, Grousteus, than neither would I.

It would be safe to say I didn't sleep well that night and school the next day dragged.

The school paper had come out with a rather shocking addition by Jordan Bailey interviewing Pete Butchurknott (Stinky Pete). Slapped onto the front page was a photo of me that was my yearbook photo from middle school the previous year; scraggly raven-black hair, a giant splotch of ink on the page, my eyes just as dark and sinister. My sunken cheeks made my bone structure look sharp and pointed: the black and white ink transforming me into some sort of devil child. It had been a year since that picture was taken and I had grown into my small body a bit more and my eyes weren't as wide and childlike. The title above the picture read: Felix Jones; a Tripping Success. Great title Jordan; I'm sure you have an A++ in English.

I didn't bother to read the paper. Why waste my time on misinformation? No one would believe the truth anyway.

Sliding into math, Mr. Griggs was trying his best to keep his eyes on the class between his swigs of whiskey. It wasn't an unusual day in math, but the occasional glance and snicker at me was what gave me some uncomfortable sixth-sense goosebumps. Sara Goodard, she sat across the room from me, was particular in taking quick glances at me. I wasn't exactly the most handsome teenager at Goldeck High, so I knew that wasn't why she kept flashing me with battering eyes. No, no. The school newspaper was starting to go around mouth-to-mouth (since no one actually reads the paper but those who write them).

A sharp pain ran to my ribs. It was Maggie Greene and her bony elbow jabbing my side. She slid over a folded piece of paper toward me across my desk. She refused to look at me, but I wondered what she was thinking when she shook her blonde curls in front of her face.

Taking the paper, it looked to have been ripped from a notebook and crumpled a couple of times. It read: Do you really like Kelly Dunnemar?

Maggie wasn't responding to my questioning stare. "Did you write this?" I was trying to keep quiet so Mr. Griggs couldn't hear me.

She didn't respond.

"Maggie!"

"No!" She hissed back, scribbling something Mr. Giggs said eagerly.

"Who did?" I scanned the room, no one was looking at me-- accept Sara Goodard...again.

After class was over, the school bell banging my brain senseless, I approached Sara in the hall. When she saw me approach her at her locker her face paled. If I didn't know any better she seemed nervous and under fire. She was a pretty girl, hair a little frizzy on top and wavy in some parts straight in others. But she had these wide brown eyes that I wouldn't dare deny were gorgeous. But I wasn't here to ask her out, that was far from my intentions. As beautiful as she is, the letter wasn't wrong: I did have a little unrequited thing for Kelly Dunnemar.

"Hey." She held her backpack up to her chest apprehensively.

"Hi," I said. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, suppose I expected her to know what to say when I approached.

"Can I help you...Felix?"

"Sorry, I was just wondering why you would ask me if I was interested in Kelly?"

Her eyes turn big, large brown orbs of entrancement. "Why I would think you were into Kelly?"

My stomach churns, milk turning to cheese, a fire ignited in my chest as my eyes squint down at her small form. Was she trying to play dumb out of embarrassment? "Look, if you like me just tell me. I don't need to be getting silly notes in class."

"Excuse me?" She took a step away from me, voice raising. "Who said I liked you?"

My cheeks are hot, and I watch her round face go from colorless to a bright pink. "You just... look I saw you watching me in class."

Her eyebrows furrow, and I'm slowly coming to the conclusion she doesn't usually look this ruffled. "What does me looking at you in class have to do with me liking you or me thinking you're into Kelly?"

A couple people walking down the hall are starting to glance our way and those with lockers nearby have gone into slow-motion. I'm just another spectacle for everyone to look at again.

"You're saying you didn't write the note?"

"What note?"

I hand her the crumpled note and she reads it before shoving it back. "No. I didn't." She slams her locker and I'm left standing as she rushes away from me as fast as her feet would carry her.

My stomach did a flip and I was left in a ball of sweat. Heart hammering into my chest, deafening in my ears. Teeth clenched together as my jaw locked in place. My knees were shaking, the room suddenly hot and suffocating. Colors swirled all around, looming and saturating my thoughts in a whirlwind of dazed concepts. The hallway was bright and I shut my eyes against the exposure. It felt like I had returned to the light after having been let out of a dark cave.

My shoulder met Sara's locker, holding my body up as my hands massaged my head. I couldn't see if anyone cared that I was slumped over in pain but it didn't matter right now. Something was horribly wrong.

Squinting my eyes against the bright hallway, light reflected on every smooth shiny surface, I hobbled to the men's bathroom. I tried to flush my eyes with sink water, hoping that would help the burning sensation; the feeling that I had sawdust blistering the innards of my eyes.

"Hey, Jones!"

I grunt, not wanting to deal with anyone else today. But my luck had seemed to fall flat on his face and withered away into some corner that could never be found again.

A hand clamps onto my shoulder, taking my face from the bathroom faucet, spinning me on my heel. There were only a few people at school with the size of hands like that on my shoulder. I couldn't open my eyes; my face must have looked like someone poured acid on it. I wanted to believe this was pepper spray but I hadn't touched anything. The fingers clamped across my shoulders; threatening to bruise.

"Hey, Weasel, look at me!" I can't. "You're just like a stupid little kid. Open your eyes and look at me like a man!"

Another set of fingers started to pry at my eyelids, putting more pressure on the burning sensation. What little light that came through made everything so much worse. I yelled out in agony. The response from the boy was to stop me from getting away.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" He finally pried one eye open, I can feel it, but it was rolled back into my head. It must have freaked him out because he pushed me back. "Fucking creep! Stay away from my sister!" I was already on the floor when I felt the butt of a metal toe ram into my gut. I curled up on the bathroom tile floor. I couldn't even see and I knew that everything was black and blue.