Krista considers lurking around the school for longer than she has to. The truth is, she doesn't want to.

There's no time for that, anyway. She has to go home and shower before going out with her friends later tonight. The ice rink waits for no one and it definitely doesn't care about today's incredibly intense choreography or how many times she had to practice the stunt where she rolls off the stage and tries not to fall into the pit. The ice rink, cruel mistress that it is, definitely doesn't care about the long scratches down her back.

She remembers how it happened so vividly. It was so quick. She was out by the pool, trying to unwind after a long day of being the only competent person in this godforsaken town.

And then the emo prom zombie came, attacked her, and disappeared. It ripped away her notions of the nonexistence of the supernatural as easily as it tore her skin.

She inspects the scratches in the mirror when she's in the middle of getting undressed for a post-rehearsal shower at home. It stretches down below the band of her bra, where it was irritating her during the whole day-long practice. It has not gotten better since.

Krista winces. She has turned around in the mirror so that she can see her back and pokes a finger at the raised red welts.

This is good. This pain will only be for her gain.

From downstairs, her stepfather yells, "Honey! There's someone at the door to see you!"

Krista considers, for a moment, that he means one of her younger siblings, but knows that he doesn't. None of them are home. They're out at the public park, playing basketball like they actually care about winning against the easiest group of people to beat (kids from the trailer park and from the apartments). Plus, his tone was more like he was in on a joke than just delivering information. He must mean that some guy is at the door, asking for her.

"Thank you, Dadam!" she calls back, through the door. "I'll be down in a moment!"

The shower will have to wait. Krista pulls her shirt back down over her head and doesn't even wince when it touches her tender skin. On instinct, she washes her hands. The water is cool, and she feels a wistfulness for the pool out back.

It's silly. She wants to get back in it. The thought of it scares her a little.

She'll have to get over that. The grind never ends, especially not when you're scared. Krista knows that.

She knows herself just as well: Krista Bertolli, the most ambitious girl in Lake Wonder. She is a girl of steel. Nothing fazes her. Krista catches her eye in the mirror and nods. This is true. If it isn't, she's going to fake it.

She wrenches open the door and bounces her way down the stairs, taking her hair out of her collar on the way.

Krista bounces her way down the carpeted stairs in her stocking feet. Her stepfather is in the living room. He's a kind man, but he's incredibly nosy when it comes to her love life (and her life in general). His eavesdropping is more than obvious, even when he pretends to be engrossed in his Santa-themed murder mystery novel.

Standing on the front steps, there is a familiar delinquent figure: Jacob Kezele, with his fists in his pockets and his hair styled but unwashed. He looks at her with eyes that are between normal and dilated.

"Hey there, Krista." His voice is surprisingly smooth.

She rolls her eyes, considers closing the door. "What do you want, Jacob?"

"Hmm. Right. That is my name."

She isn't sure what that's supposed to mean. "What do you want?" she repeats. "I'm due at the ice rink in a few hours."

"I need your help with something."

She blinks at him, deadpan. "What about me screams that I'm begging to help you, Jacob Kezele, local wastoid, with anything?"

"It has to do with saving someone. If you'll come with me, I'll explain on the way."

Krista looks from Jacob to her stepfather, then back to Jacob. "Give me some time to shower and I'll go with you."

"We don't have time for you to shower."

"Do you want my help or not, wastoid?" She doesn't wait for an answer. She leaves the door open, leaves Jacob with her stepfather, and scales the stairs back to the bathroom.

She doesn't get it. She knows what to do in order to do the right thing. She has to go with him, right? To "save" someone?

She turns on the water so the shower can warm up before she even starts to undress again. She inspects the scratches again in the mirror, through the fog.

Krista knows that she can not deny her morals. At the very least, if someone actually does need saving, she could probably at least get some recognition or public service for her resume out of it. She can make her moral conundrum benefit her in the end.

Krista takes her phone out of her pants after they're already off and draped on the countertop. To her group of friends, she sends a quick, "I might be late to the ice rink tonight, if I come at all. Something came up."

Though all the replies are sympathetic and call the turn of events a bummer, she barely reads them. She's already stepping into the shower, trying to wash away the day's sweat and sore muscles. Even the scent of Pink Cashmere shower gel and steam doesn't shake her trepidation or determination.

Steam rises to the ceiling, and soap begins to bubble where it was left by one of her brothers.

Deep underground, the Mop Wizard also finds himself covered in soap. He watches his orb intently, trying not to be preoccupied with the levels of the souls in the orbs lining the walls of his tower.

Everything is proceeding as planned. He just needs to suck them on down.