Random Insanity

The slow trickle of passerby inexorably slowed further, dying off entirely as the yellow Romulan sun finally completed its long horizonward arc, its present low angle giving it the hue of human blood. Trip paused to take in the spectacle of the bloated, ruddy orb as it settled behind the phalanx of centuries-old structures that comprised the squat Old City skyline. Caught between the waning rays and lengthening shadows, the venerable illuminated spires of the kilometers-distant Hall of State rose belligerently, war pikes poised over the Romulan capital, the anthracite-black waters of the Apnex Sea at their backs. (that was all three sentences--also "ruddy orb")

Thanks to Trip's protracted absence, her memories of their brief time together had become as irrepressible as they were bittersweet. And the fact that the last year had brought her more than enough reason to grieve apart from Trip's departure hadn't helped; she had lost her mother, T'Les, during a raid against a Syrrannite sect at Vulcan's Takarath Sanctuary, then had faced the death of Elizabeth. It didn't matter that her infant offspring had been a cloned hybrid created with her and Tucker's DNA by the rogue geneticists of Terra Prime separatist movement; little Elizabeth had nevertheless been their child. And now both T'Les and Elizabeth were interred beneath the broiling sands of Vulcan, on the grounds of the rebuilt sanctuary.

The bus pulls to the curb with a belch of gray exhaust. I cough, waving away the fumes. I hate taking public transportation--the buses are always loud and cramped and smell like sweat, cigarettes, and cheap cologne. This is not how I imagined my senior year. I thought I'd have a car--something cool like a Mustang or a VW Bug. But life rarely turns out like you dreamed. If it did, Haydn would still be alive, and I wouldn't get sick to my stomach every time I get behind the wheel of a car.

Kids pile up on the corner, jostling to be the first in line. I try not to make eye contact with anyone, but I can still feel their gazes on me. I hear the whispers. I know they're judging me. It's been like this for months now. I crush down the hurt, pretend nobody matters. I'm not all that convinced, though.

Somebody tall and blonde shoves me out of the way, squealing like a pig. Guys' heads snap around to catch a look at her ass hanging out of her shorts--they sure don't meet the dress code. Over her shoulder, I spot a guy leaning against the bus shelter staring at his feet like they are the most interesting thing in the world. He glances up, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. For a second I think he's looking at me, but then reality sets me straight. The girl jumps into his arms, nearly knocking them both to the ground. I hop on the bus while everyone's distracted.

Haydn had a car. It wasn't anything cool, just his mom's hand-me-down Toyota. The gears ground, the doors stuck, and the rear tires kept going flat, but it was a car; and it meant freedom. With freedom comes responsibility. Eleanor Roosevelt said that. Unfortunately teenagers are notoriously irresponsible. I swallow hard, try to push down the guilt threatening to overcome me. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of crying.

"You're Erin, right? Jack Hickey's sister?"
I blink up at a greasy-haired kid as he slides into the seat next to me, a creepy smile on his pimply face. He reaches his arm across the back of the seat exposing massive pit stains; he doesn't smell any better than he looks. Gross. I stare out the scratched window, hoping he'll get bored and go away. I've never been a terribly lucky person.

"It's my birthday today. Cool, huh?"

"Mazel Tov."

He bristles. "I'm fifteen, not thirteen. And I'm not Jewish." He leans closer, his stench causing me to gag. Didn't this kid ever hear of deodorant? "I was just thinking," he continues, fingering the hem of my skirt, "since it's my birthday and all, you could, you know-" He waggles his eyebrows. "A hickey from a Hickey?"

Ugh. I think I might hurl. I slap his hand away and try to ignore the laughs coming from all around us. He leans a little closer, making me press against the cold window to get away. My heart slams against my chest as panic takes hold. Everyone is watching, hoping I'll make a scene--something they can post to YouTube. Anger bubbles up over the fear, but before I can do anything with it someone hauls the kid out of the seat by his collar.

"I think you've made enough of an impression on her, Cameron. Why don't you go sit over there and stop giving her excuses to stab you in the eye with a pencil."

More laughs.

My savior's tall with short brown hair and light brown eyes that sparkle gold in the sun. It's his smile, though, that catches my breath. Dimples peek out from under a day's worth of stubble, marching a path up his cheeks to his eyes. My heart's pounding for an entirely different reason now. He's gorgeous.

I have this theory that guys like him know exactly what they do to girls like me. They like the way we get all gooey and stupid when they're around. And they know how to use it to their advantage. Haydn was like that. Maybe it's an ego thing. Maybe arrogance.

"I don't think he'll bother you anymore," he says, leaning over with his hands braced on the backs of the seats like he owns the place. Like he owns me. Definitely arrogance--he's no better than that Cameron kid.

"I can take care of myself." I practically spit the words. I use the resentment to cover the nervous jitters spreading through my body.

His smile falters for just a second before he recovers, showing slightly crooked teeth. "Of that I have no doubt. I just didn't want you to wind up in prison for manslaughter. Not that I'd blame you; Cameron's a dick."

I snort. Apparently that's the only kind of guy I attract.

"I'm Shawn, by the way." He actually extends a hand to me.

"Erin."

"I know." Of course he does; everyone knows who I am. He watches me with those honey-colored eyes. I'm not sure what he's waiting for--an invitation? Fat chance. My skin crawls in a not unpleasant way under his scrutiny. I need to do something, say something.

"What's your excuse," I blurt out, catching us both off guard. "For riding the loser express? You're a senior, right?"

"For another three weeks and four days."

"Not that you're counting or anything."

"Like you're not?" His laugh is a deep rumble, like distant thunder before the rain. It sets butterflies off in my stomach to perform an Olympic quality gymnastics routine. I smile despite myself. I hate him a little for that. "I bet you're excited to get out of here?"

"Out of the bus?"

He gives me that heart-stopping smile again, melting my insides. Bastard.

"Out of school."

I look away. I forgot he knows my secrets. Everyone knows my secrets thanks to Haydn. I feel the tears pressing against my eyes. Shawn folds himself into the seat next to me, keeping a respectable distance between us. In the past I might have been offended, but now I appreciate the gesture--most guys have no respect for my personal boundaries anymore.

His voice is soft when he speaks again. "My license got suspended."

I frown out the window; the thread of the conversation lost with my thoughts.

"That's my excuse. For taking the bus. I got a DUI." He hangs his head. "I know, stupid."

I'm probably supposed to say something, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when I try to speak. I watch his ghostly reflection in the glass for some clue as to how I should respond, but he's staring into the distance. No, he's staring at someone.

The girl from earlier--the one that barreled through me with her piggy squeal--is heading our way. Her hair's pulled into a high ponytail, exposing her cleavage spilling out of her too-tiny top. Has she even heard of the dress code?

"Hey, Shawn," she coos, "there's any empty seat by us now."

I roll my eyes. She couldn't be any more obvious if she'd hit him with a two-by-four.

He glances over his shoulder at her group of eager-looking girlfriends. "Um, maybe later."

Her jaw drops, exposing a mouthful of fillings. Rotten teeth to go with her rotten personality. I stifle a laugh.

"Shawn," she whines.

He turns back to me, catching me staring. For a moment our eyes lock--the intensity stops my heart. Holy crap. He licks his lips, momentarily drawing my attention away from his eyes. Damn my hormones. Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe I'm delusional.

"You like pizza?"

It takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me. "Um-"

"I work over at Antonio's; you know the place by the mall? You should stop in some time. I mean if you get hungry or something. The pizza isn't half bad if you don't mind it greasy." It comes out all in one breath.

I blink.

He wipes his hands on his pants then scratches at his neck. I don't know what he's getting at. Since Haydn I can't be sure of anything when it comes to guys.

"I'm not like that. Like in the video." My voice startles me. Oh god, did I just say that out loud? "I mean-" What did I mean? My face burns, but I'm surprised to see a blush on Shawn's face, too.

"I didn't think-" He swallows hard.

We stare at each other, my heart pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it. The air between us is on fire--I keep hoping I'll just spontaneously combust or something. Anything would be better than whatever is happening between me and Shawn right now.

He gets a hold of himself first, the edge of his mouth quirking up. He leans across me, so close his breath tickles my face. I gasp.

"This is my stop." He pulls the stop cord above our heads. I nod dumbly. There's something about Shawn that switches off my brain. By the smirk on his face, he probably knows it, too.

He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder as other kids shuffle past. "I guess I'll see you later. Don't forget--Antonio's if you get hungry. I know a guy that can get you a free slice."

He's gone before I can respond, not that my tongue would have allowed it. He beams that dimpled smile at me as he passes my window. I'm melting--they'll have to mop me up off the floor. I didn't think any guy would ever have that effect on me again. I keep the image of his smile in my mind, and for a moment, I forget all the stares and whispers.



An hour later I'm still reeling from the whole experience. What did it all mean? What was Shawn playing at? Before Haydn, I would have attributed the entire thing to politeness. But this is after Haydn. There's no way Shawn hasn't seen the video. I doubt there's anyone in the galaxy that hasn't seen that video. The one of my face in Haydn's lap, leaving nothing to the imagination. The one I didn't know he was making. The one he uploaded to the internet moments before he wrapped his car around a light pole.

I choke back the tears, the heels of my hands pressing my eyes until colors pop in my vision. Sometimes I wonder who I'm crying for--Haydn or my lost reputation. Does that make me a bad person? Probably.

Shawn's face invades my thoughts--the honey eyes and the dimples and the kissable lips. Kissable? Twenty minutes in my life, and he's turned it upside down. I can't stop thinking about his smile or how it makes me want to grin until my face hurts. I'm so confused. Guys like Shawn just don't go for girls like me. I'm all out of proportion--small boobs, wide hips, belly rolls. All the wrong curves, in all the wrong places. Haydn went for it, though. And look where that got him.

Still, Shawn asked me to come by for pizza. Even if he was just being nice, it's more than most people have offered in a long time. I have to admit, I'm more than a little curious. What's the worst that could happen if I show up? I humiliate myself in front of one of the hottest guys in school. Like I could get any lower than I already am. So what do I have to lose? Besides the last shreds of my pride? I can't decide if I'm talking myself into it or out of it.

I should go. I'm hungry and pizza sounds good. Yes, that's the only reason I'm grabbing the keys to my mom's Subaru and heading for the garage with barely a glance at the surprised look on her face. I haven't driven since the accident, and my hands shake when I start the car. It takes a couple minutes before I get the courage to leave the driveway. I do the speed limit all the way there, stop completely at every sign, and force myself to breathe. I make it to the mall in one piece. My legs are apparently made of Jell-o when I get out of the car, but for the first time in months I feel strong--like maybe I can get past Haydn. Like I'm not just the "slut" in that damn video.

The inside of Antonio's is dark; booths line the walls with square tables in the center of the room. The hostess seats me near the kitchen. It's noisy and smells like garlic. I pick up the sticky, laminated menu with still trembling hands. I don't think I can eat. I second guess my decision to come here. God, what if he hadn't really meant it? What if he was just doing that thing where you offer something without really meaning it because it's the polite thing to do? Maybe I should just go before I look like an even bigger idiot.

Of course that's when the server decides to appear next to my table, blocking my escape.

"Hey," Shawn says. "I hoped you would show up."

"Really?" I hate the way my voice cracks--the sound of desperate hope.

He smiles. "Sure. After having to deal with the bus and jerks like Cameron every day, you looked like you could use a free slice of pizza."

Oh. So he was just being nice. Why am I so disappointed? Nice is good. It's more than I've gotten in months. I force a grin onto my face. "I like free."

There's that smirk again--like he knows I'm putty in his hands. "So, what kind of pizza do you like?"

Would ordering the vegetarian make me look more health conscious? Or would it make me look like I'm trying to be trendy? I don't even like vegetarian pizza. "Pepperoni?"

"You're not sure?" he asks with a chuckle. The raised eyebrow just adds to the effect.

I feel like an idiot. I nod, eyes on the table. He taps his order pad on my head then disappears. I couldn't be any more of a spaz if I tried. I drop my head to the table and cover it with my arms. I'm not sure how much time passes before Shawn returns. He sets a steaming pizza on the table along with two drinks then slides in across from me.

"Break time," he tells me with a grin.

Why do I have to turn to mush whenever he looks at me? I muster the courage that spurred me into the driver's seat. "I guess I'm lucky I showed up when I did then." My voice stays amazingly steady.

"I, um-" He takes a sip of his Coke. "Actually I held off on my break. I was really hoping you'd show up."

"You waited for me?" I squeak.

The look of surprise on his face confuses me even more.

"Well, yeah. Why else would I invite you?"

Shock keeps me from speaking. Or doing much of anything else.

He scratches at his neck, a blush creeping up his face. "I guess I was more subtle than I thought," he mumbles. His eyes dart around, not settling on any one thing for more than a few seconds.

"Uh, um-" I don't know what to say.

"Look, if you don't... I mean, if you'd rather just be friends. I don't want you to feel pressured or anything." He's lost all the confidence in his voice and when he smiles the dimples don't reach his eyes. He turns his attention to his slice of pizza.

"I'm not like in the video." I shouldn't have to keep clarifying this. I wish Haydn had never happened.

He finally looks at me again. "I didn't think you were. I didn't even watch that stupid video. I-" He licks his lips. "I've seen the way the other guys treat you. Like Cameron. You don't deserve that, no matter what you did in that video or otherwise."

I glance away so he can't see the tears in my eyes.

His reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. "To be honest, I've been trying to come up with a reason to talk to you for weeks now. I could have kissed Cameron when he started messing with you."

He's got to be joking.

His eyes soften as he leans forward, invading my space just a little. "Don't look so shocked. There are still good guys out there, Erin. Don't let Haydn Pierce color your world forever."

I suck in a short breath at the intensity in his gaze. He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse roars in my head, drowning out all other sounds. All thoughts. He leaves his hand on my cheek, skin sizzling at the point of contact. This is happening.

"In case I'm not being clear enough again, this is me saying I like you. And not because of the video. I plan to prove it to you, if you'll let me." He catches my gaze--his eyes dark amber in this light. "What do you say?"

What do I say? Do I really want Haydn running my life from beyond the grave? Keeping me from trusting anyone ever again?

"No."

It's only when I see Shawn's shocked face that I realize I said the word out loud. "Not you! I didn't mean you. I just-" I shake my head. "I'm pretty screwed up; you probably don't want to get involved in the mess that is my life."

His face relaxes. "How 'bout you let me worry about how much mess I can deal with?"

I bite back a smile. "Okay." We stay that way, staring. For how long, I couldn't tell you. It feels like seconds, minutes, days. Time means nothing to me anymore.

"So?" he finally asks.

So. So, this is when I take back my life. I close the distance between us and brush my lips against his. He jerks his head back in surprise. I like that I caught him off guard, but to make sure there's no confusion I kiss him again. This time he reacts, hands coming up to cradle my face, as he kisses me back.

"When do you get your license back?" I mumble through the kiss.

I feel him smile against my lips. "Hopefully never. I'm fine with taking the bus."

I cut off any more talk with another kiss. I'll tell him about my car some other time.

The End.