7. Ruby

Ruby painted her lips red, after slipping into some red leather. Her burgundy hair bounced outward, down and about as she flung her locks with her fingers--freeing them from the leather. Looking into a cracked mirror, in her rundown motel room that doubled as an apartment, she teased those black lashes. A little pink blush with a tap-tap-tap on one cheek, then the other. Not too much, otherwise she'll look like a doll and men today don't want a doll--they want a whore.

The door shutting behind her on its own, read Room 21.

Slipping her skinny biceps into black leather, the jacket clung to her torso. But she didn't zip up, that's where the moneymakers are hanging out. Walking barefoot, her feet adapted to the pavements and sidewalks they graced. It was the heels that hurt. She always carried them to her block, then put them on. A barefoot hooker just screamed hippie and that just didn't sell like it used to. This ain't no Woodstock, Mr. Walrus.

As she walked, she slipped her earphones in and listened to her Making Money soundtrack. It mostly consisted of AC/DC, Metallica and the such like. These songs put her in a groove, a beat and--unfortunately for her, but fortunately for others and then eventually fortunately for her--a mood.

Ruby had been working the streets for seven years now. She started at the tender age of 15, soon after leaving home. She was fed up with her father and his rules. She was gonna live her life the way she wanted and no two-timing, down-on-his-luck, impotent pervert trying to change his life for the better with a strict code was going to change that.

So at the corner of Jackson, Lincoln and bitter irony Ruby slipped into those heels and the role of slave. Pulling on the chain of the dog tags about her neck, she pulled them loose from the red leather and let them drape between her shoulders. Across the street she saw Blondie. Blondie was always threatening to take Ruby's turf. Ruby glared at her, bit her lip and gave her a finger--the worst one. Blondie smirked, quirked the head and returned the favor.

A man spoke from the shadows of the liquor store, "Hey... you a hooker or something?"

"Do I look like a hooker?"

"I don't know," the voice responded, "I've never met a hooker."

Ruby, rolling her eyes, responded, "Yeah, your mom was a peach, I'm sure. How do you want it?"

Walking into the street light, Jason Richard Wright looked nervous, "In the alley... I guess."

Walking into the alley, Ruby leading, it got darker and darker. All they could see were each others' silhouettes now, and his palms were sweating, "I, uh, got off early. I'm a janitor at the University; the power went out--the sent us home, they probably won't pay us. They never do with things like this, they expect us to use our vacation or personal hours. Even during terrorist threats, it's pretty stupid."

"You're on the clock pal," Ruby spoke, "Is this all you want? A chat?" A door opened and shed light on Ruby, a cook from the bar saw her, "Frankie, do you mind? I'm working here."

"Well, hurry it up, Ruby," the cook spoke, "I need a smoke."

As the door was shutting, Jason Richard Wright saw Rupert's name flashing in the night on medal. And then the darkness was back, their eyes adjusting again.

"Hey, how did you get those dog tags?"

"Dope off," Ruby said.

"You stole them didn't you?"

"DOPE OFF, buster."

"You did!" Jason Richard Wright screeched in the night and grabbed, grasping the dog tags in his fingers. Pulling towards himself, he tried to break them from about her neck but she caught his hand with one of her own. Jason Richard Wright felt two quick, sharp pains. One in the crotch, made with her knee. The other in his right side, a switchblade penetrating--he felt it scrape a rib. The switchblade was out as soon as it was in, he fell with the nausea to the ground. His head thumped and scratched across the trash bin. He felt her smaller fingers wrap around his right wrist and it was accompanied with two cold, metal fingers that completed a circle. She pulled his arm to the door and latched the other half of the handcuffs to the handle.

Running off out of the alley, Ruby saw the lights of the kitchen again piercing the night. Turning the corner, she was gone. The last she heard was Frankie screaming her name and dictating for someone to call the cops.

As Jason Richard Wright leaned against the door, bleeding on the kitchen floor, he laughed. He laughed as he never had. After all this time, he was brought down by a prostitute.

6. Faye

David Spencer was sitting in his easy chair; Mercedes Masterson was making some coffee for the two of them. He looked upon her and admired the young detective who had followed in his footsteps. She too had joined the private sector after leaving the force. And, like he had hoped he would be, she was instrumental in bruising organized crime in Babylon. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn't young anymore. He was getting up there in years, but he still had his mind.

Mercedes had made these visits more common after his heart attack; it made him feel like he was the father no one wanted but one person felt obligated to visit him in his infirmities. But he didn't mind, she was good company. It was all just a little depressing. Deep down Spencer knew his life was quickly fleeting.

Sitting on his sofa, Mercedes handed him his coffee mug; and she smirked, "So you know this one was going to come up," after adjusting herself in the cushion, she looked to him, "Jason Richard Wright."

"Yeah," Spencer spoke, sipping his coffee, "He was bound to come up sooner or later."

"I'm curious," she started her inquiry, "How did you maintain your sanity? Well, that is, how did you not give up? That was a jacked up case."

Without hesitation, Spencer spoke two words, "Faye Brown."

"The runaway?"

"Yeah," his eyes were now going back somewhere, "Faye Brown. Only fifteen years old... whenever I got discouraged, I thought of her."

Faye Brown was petite, in all aspects of the word. She was skinny, weighing in at only 82 pounds. She was short, standing a not-so commanding four feet and seven inches. Her golden locks, wavy and long, made her easy prey for her teenage peers. She was cute, smart but troubled. Her parents were avid alcoholics. One night she decided she was tired of it and made a decision that was unlike most she made—an ignorant one. Faye decided to run away from home and join the teenage wasteland.

She hadn't made it very far when she stopped at a truck port just outside of Babylon. She was entering the big city for the first time, hailing from Riverside. Exiting the truck cab, she went inside to buy some snacks and pop. Then, she was going to try and find a new ride. Her company from Riverside was calling it a night, for a few hours. Faye, on the other hand, desired to put as much distance between her and the whiskey back in Riverside.

It was late at night and she mostly got turned down. Most men looked her over, but decided they would be getting in trouble if they picked up this girl. So, they would opt out and make up some lame excuse. But there was one gentleman who had been watching her for about ten minutes before she made her way to him, and he was beyond willing to give her a ride.

"Excuse me, Sir?" she asked innocently, "I wonder if you could give me a ride? I'm heading east—is that the direction your heading?"

"Sure."

"Could I get a ride, please?"

"Not a problem."

Inside Jason Richard Wright's 1993, red Ford Escort they spoke of many things. The actuality of it all was that Jason Richard Wright wasn't heading anywhere; he was there for a girl. And once he had his, he was ready. Though, he would have driven to Detroit if he had to.

"I was never good at math in high school."

"Oh, it's not that bad," Faye assured, "You just have to think within the box they give you. There's no thinking outside the box with math... or science for that matter."

"Yeah, I guess," Jason Richard Wright mostly asked questions. He didn't provide much in the way of actual conversation, he was too busy trying to get in as many glances to her body as he could. He would later admit that young and small was his preferred type. There was just something about it. Perhaps it was the control he had, since he wasn't a large man by any means. Someone smaller would be easier to handle. Though he had to admit, the small ones always had the softer skin, "What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"The worst?" she asked, a little frightened.

Jason Richard Wright was just toying now, trying to get as much dirt as he could. The longer the conversation went, the hotter it got for him in his Escort, "Yeah... what's the worst thing?"

"I don't know..." she was becoming hesitant.

He felt like he was going to lose her at this point, "Well, like... did you ever do drugs?"

"No," she laughed, "That's stupid."

"What about... drink?"

She snarled, "No."

"Skinny dipping with the friends?"

Giggling, "No, thank goodness."

"What about sex?"

They set in silence. The radio managed to get through one song and a half. Across the sky, one could see the night was threatening to give way to the sun. Jason Richard Wright was so upset with himself. He was feeling like he'd reeled the fish in, and then threw the pole into the water. But finally, Faye spoke softly,

"There was this one time...

"Tommy Kilger, he's our quarterback. He took me out for Homecoming, which was like the coolest thing that had ever happened in my life. I was a freshman and he was a senior, and he took me to Homecoming. Well, it was fun for a while, but then he just couldn't stop... touching. I asked him to stop, but he kept on. He might stop for like one song, but then he'd start as soon as they'd play a stupid rap song or something and then he'd be grabbing and groping at me. And grinding... I hated it. Eventually, I told Tommy I wanted to leave. So, he argued, but then gave in. On the way home, he pulled over... it hurt. I've never bled so much in my life.

"At home, I just went to bed. The next morning I burned my dress... I don't know why I'm telling you this; I don't even know you and I've never told this to anyone. Needless to say, that was the last time I went out with Tommy Kilger."

Jason Richard Wright sat quietly for a moment, pondering what had just been said to him. As he slowly moved into the far right lane, he spoke again, "So he raped you?"

"Yeah," Faye spoke, folding her arms for warmth. It wasn't cold in the car, but it was a cold world that night.

"Why did you bleed?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Because I was a virgin, and I wasn't ready."

"So it hurt?"

"Yeah."

Jason Richard Wright was getting confused and frustrated with the conversation, "But it felt good eventually, right?"

"No, it just hurt."

"At first," he demanded, "But eventually you liked it?"

"No!" she yelled, "When someone rapes you, it doesn't feel good. It never feels good."

He was fuming now, void of understanding, "But its sex, eventually it's going to feel good!"

"You know what? Pull over," Faye demanded, "I'm done with this conversation, you're stupid. I'll get a ride from someone else."

Jason Richard Wright didn't even hesitate; he pulled off on the next exit. They had managed to drive just outside of Babylon on the northeast side. Before he could pull over onto the shoulder and park, he grabbed Faye by the back of the head and slammed her face into the dashboard. The car was old enough it didn't have a passenger airbag; it didn't even have a driver airbag. He continued to pound her face into the dashboard, her fingernails scrapping into his hand only made him angrier—and stronger. He continued to pound and pound and pound.

Stopping the car, he used his left hand to put it in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to her, crossing the console between them. With both hands now, he pounded her face. The glove compartment fell open and dropped the registration onto her feet. But that didn't stop Jason Richard Wright, he kept pounding away. He even got a good hit with the bridge of her nose across the door of the glove compartment, this broke her nose. Finally, he stopped. Sitting back and removing his hands from her bloodstained, golden locks he set back in his own chair. Faye slid over and propped against the door.

Stepping out of the car, he sprinted around the front of the car. As he did, he undid his belt, and pants. Opening the passenger door, she fell just before the ground--hanging, tangled in her seat belt. He leaned her back, undid the seat belt and pulled her out. Dragging her into the open field that overlooked the Babylon Industrial Park in the distance, he rolled her over. It was starting to rain now, which was fine by Jason Richard Wright, because it would wash away a lot of the blood, semen and prints.

And he left Faye there in the field. Open and bare to the sky.

Upon hearing the news, Faye's parents gave up the bottle—cold turkey.

5. Rupert

Joining the army was the best thing Jason Richard Wright ever did, he thought. It removed him far from his mother, feeling frustrated with the way things had turned out between them. And most importantly, it gave him the opportunity to get out some bottled anger.

When he got to Kuwait, he was ready to fight. He was ready to do some damage, to take out his frustrations. His commanding officer was Rupert and he admired him greatly. Rupert didn't have the same problems with shyness that Jason Richard Wright often suffered from. No, he was a very strong and independent individual.

Rupert was always giving Jason Richard Wright all kinds of advice, and he took every blessed word to heart,

"Jason, if you ever want something--take it. You want a coke? Take it. You want a car? Take it. You want a woman? Take her--make her your own."

And with that line of thought, Rupert came to the barracks late one night, "Private, get your clothes on, get your gun and meet me outside."

Jason Richard Wright didn't hesitate, he dressed and grabbed his equipment. He came out of the barracks, still clipping and fastening his equipment about his camouflage, "Sir, what is it?"

"It's high time you learned a few things about life and war, Jason."

"Sir?"

"Follow me and keep your mouth shut, private."

"Yes, sir."

The two of them snuck out of the camp and into the night. Jason Richard Wright wasn't sure what village they made their way to, but recognized the young girl in question from earlier in the day. The two of them came upon a small house, looking in the windows. Aside from the girl they counted one father, teenage brother and mother. Rupert turned and spoke softly,

"We'll take out the rest of the family, and then I want you outside keeping watch. If I'm satisfied with your work, Jason, I might even share."

"We're gonna kill the family?"

"No," Rupert started, "It would draw too much attention. I need you keeping an eye on them outside."

Bursting in the front door, Rupert waved his gun in the face of the parents, shouting in their native tongue to put their hands behind their head. Jason Richard Wright, in a fit of adrenaline, struck the teenage boy in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Collapsing, the boy was knocked out. Rupert laughed,

"Calm down, Jason."

Jason lead the two parents and daughter outside the house and into the alley, from which the two soldiers had come. Rupert drug the teenage boy out and plopped his unconscious body next to the feet of the parents. Rupert grabbed the girl by her left bicep and began to pull him along with him back to the house, the parents spoke up and began begging to spare the child. As the father stepped forward, warranting a threat, Jason Richard Wright struck him in the face with his rifle. The father fell to the ground, grabbing his bloody face. His wife tried to catch him as he fell, and wept loudly.

"Don't leave them, Jason," Rupert commanded, "I will come back for you."

Jason Richard Wright watched as Rupert drug, then carried the squirming young girl. He estimated that she was probably only fifteen years old. He was thankful she was developed, otherwise it would not have been near as pleasing--if pleasing at all. He waited and listened to the sounds. He could hear the violence of the act, the girl screaming and Rupert shouting out curse words in satisfaction. It was too much to bear, Jason Richard Wright had to see for himself. He made the parents take their shirts off and tied their hands and feet together, after tearing their shirts to work as ropes. He did the same for the passed out teenage boy. After instructing them not to move, or they'd die, he went up to the house and followed the noise around the house.

Through a window, he could see Rupert had full control of the young girl in a bed. He watched for several minutes and was very much enjoying himself. In his mind he agreed, Yes, if you want a girl--take her. He was slowly becoming jealous and impatient, waiting his turn with the young girl. But the more he watched, the less he desired the girl. He thought of how she was already broken in and that she would be dirty, that by the time he had his way with her she would have already become accustomed to the idea and thus the adrenaline would be lost. The element of surprise and shock. And on top of that, she would be tired and exhausted, therefore it would be too easy.

As he pondered these thoughts, he watched in horror as the bedroom door flung open and in entered the father and teenage boy with guns. They were screaming, Rupert cursed and flung himself from the bed hiding behind from the natives. The girl jumped outside the other side of the bed and ran out of the room. Rupert gripped his gun and began to take shots from the behind the bed, Jason Richard Wright ran around the house to the front door. As he reached he saw someone with a gun and he took aim and put anywhere from ten to fifteen bullets into the enemy. The body fell into the light of the open door and he saw that it was just a young child. A boy of about five or six years old. He froze in disbelief. He noted also that the child's gun was actually a small stick.

Rupert came out of the door and looked into Jason Richard Wright's soul, "You had one job, soldier! ONE JOB."

"I tied them up. It must have been the child."

"You tied them up..." Rupert spoke hatefully.

Rupert walked back into the house, Jason Richard Wright followed him. The mother held onto her dead husband, cradling him. Rupert put his gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger, an eye rolled across the floor and stopped at Jason Richard Wright's boot. Stepping over it, he entered the bedroom.

The girl dropped her teenage brother, who she clung to and ran into the corner at the sight of the two soldiers. Rupert raised his gun and shot the girl.

Finally, there was silence. Jason Richard Wright's ears were ringing.

Looking to Jason Richard Wright, Rupert sighed, "Well, soldier. It's your turn. Have at her."

"But she's dead, Sir."

Rupert just stared.

Jason Richard Wright knew what he had to do. He lowered his gun, took off his belt. Later he would acknowledge that he was surprised how much he liked it.

4. Lacey Ann

At the tender age of six, Jason Richard Wright wanted to wed Lacey Ann. She was young, attractive and had a home-grown singing voice. She would often sing along to the radio while going about her chores, this always further tightened the romance between the six-year old and his mother.

Lacey Ann Wright was not a bad person, she was a victim. A victim of horrible parents, horrible acquaintances, horrible friends and a horrible husband. She was always ridiculed, talked-down to and hit upon. Her parents hit her, her husband hit her. It was always a vicious cycle for Lacey Ann. It wasn't easy being a single mom, but she never regretted her actions and the consequences thereof. But she was always a sucker for love, so she married.

The Man came home, bursting through the door and ripping its hinges again. The Man was drunk. He was always drunk. He called out, between sips, "LACEY! LACEY!" Little Jason Richard Wright was sitting on the couch, hoping he was not going to be the center of attention tonight, "LACEY, YOU WHORE! YOU COME WHEN I'M CALLING!" Lacey Ann came from the pantry, she scurried out to him,

"Yes, dear," she bowed her head, afraid to look at her monster of a husband, "What do you want?"

"I'm horny."

And that was all he said. She begged and pleaded with him, but it was to no avail, he tore her clothes from her and violated her right in front of Jason Richard Wright. The boy was too young to understand what was going on, but the image of his mother's naked body always remained etched in the back of his brain. He would often look upon his mother and visualize her the way she once was and fantasize what he would do with her in that state.

One year later, Lacey Ann would wait until he was asleep, and then she'd grab the shovel and bludgeon The Man in the head until he was no more a worry. With the help of her son, they buried The Man deep in the woods behind their trailer park. Lacey Ann made Jason Richard Wright promise never to speak of that night and he never dared cross his love.

Jason Richard Wright thought for certain that nothing stood between him and the love of his mother, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

Lacey Ann met Buck Johnson at Greasy Todd's Bar & Grill. It was really more of a bar than a grill, and because of that and because of its isolated location that he picked up some rowdy characters. Lacey Ann wasn't rowdy, but she liked men in leather and the only way she could meet men in leather was leaving riverside and driving thirty minutes down the road to Greasy Todd's.

She really thought Buck was quite the looker. He came up to her and treated her "like a lady," she'd later explain to her son.

"You're looking mighty fine tonight, miss," Buck started, "Mind if I join you, the drink's on me."

Buck was a biker. He wasn't in a motorcycle gang, but he wanted to be. It was his only goal in life. He had two of necessary elements: a bike and leather. All he needed now was to be taking seriously.

Lacey Ann took Buck seriously and that's probably why they hit it off so well. It didn't take long before Lacey Ann was bringing Buck home to meet her son.

"Jason," she spoke gleefully, "This man is Buck Johnson. I've been seeing him for a little while. Buck, this is Jason."

Buck knelt down and extended his oil stained, hairy hand and smiled, "Hello, son, I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm not your son," jealousy filled Jason Richard Wright.

"He knows, Jason," Lacey Ann blushed and giggled nervously.

"It's a figure of speech, boy," Buck explained, "It's good to finally meet ya."

Buck eventually moved in with Lacey Ann and her son. It was a match made in heaven, it seemed. Lacey Ann had never been happier in her life. Buck had never been happier in his life. He even forgot about his ambitions of joining a gang, being perfectly content with his new partner in life and the strange boy between them. Buck figured that he could give it time and the boy would forget any preconceived notions about him. He had high hopes and all the time in the world. He got himself a job at the local market as a butcher, it didn't pay much but he didn't mind. It was enough to get by. They didn't want everything, they just wanted their family.

Jason Richard Wright finally determined there was only one way to be rid of this man. One Saturday while Lacey Ann was working some overtime to cover for someone else at the diner, Jason Richard Wright took Buck by surprise.

"Buck, did you know my mom was married?"

"Yes, I did, Jason."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

"Yes, he left the both of you," Buck placed his hand on the right shoulder of Jason Richard Wright for comfort; this was perhaps his worst mistake, for the boy's blood boiled in his body at the touch, "But it's okay. That's over now."

"He didn't leave, Buck. He died."

Buck removed his hand and made a concerned face, the kind adults make often in the presence of children.

"Mom killed him."

Buck frowned with his eyebrows, "Now that's not a very nice thing to say, Jason. I think you know that."

"I'll show you. Get the shovel."

Buck tried to talk the nonsense out of the boy's head, but when he realized he was failing he decided to allow it to play out. He figured the boy would recognize his error when there was nothing to dig up and then he could teach the boy a lesson on "fibbing."

Standing in the woods behind the trailer park, Buck stared in disbelief at the deteriorating body in the ground. The shovel that was once in his hand was now laying in the mud next to him, it slowly slid undetected with the rain's coercion into the shallow grave. Buck slowly examined every aspect of the body with the glow of the flashlight in his hand. Eventually, the shovel couldn't resist anymore and it quickly fell into the shallow grave. Buck jumped at it, trying to grab it before it fell in. He slipped in the mud and fell in with the body. He scrambled about in the muddy grave, he was knee deep in a pool of mucky water. Buck bit his lip, trying not to scream in the night and draw attention to themselves. He could feel the legs of the carcass wrapping around his legs and tangling him up, and it seemed the more he struggled the deeper tangled and sunk he got.

Buck took the shovel and stretched it out to Jason Richard Wright standing outside the grave, "Here, Jason, take this. It'll help."

Jason Richard Wright didn't hesitate. He took the shovel and then pulled it back in the night above his head.

This would be the last clear vision Buck would ever see.

The boy struck him across the head as heard as he could, knocking face down in the pool of muddy rain. He then railed constant blows upon the back of his head as it stuck out of the water. He wasn't satisfied until he was certain there was no more movement coming from Buck Johnson.

Lacey Ann could not be shared with anyone.

Jason Richard Wright barely had enough time to complete the grave of two, get back to the trailer and jump in the bath. Lacey Ann came in the bathroom with a smile on her face,

"Hey, Squirt, where's Buck?" She sat on the floor next to the bathtub, grabbed the washcloth, lathered some soap into it and began to scrub the boy.

"He left."

"Where did he go?"

"He said hateful things and left. He's not coming back."

A tearful Lacey Ann dropped the washcloth. She climbed in the bathtub fully dressed and cried. She would cry all night. Neither of the Wrights slept that night.

3. Samantha

It was prom, 1988, at Riverside County High School and Samantha Montgomery was as happy as the next junior. She was attending with her date, Brad Smith. It was not very romantic, they were going as just friends. It had been arranged two months earlier, by their friends, that they would go together since neither was seeing anyone at the time nor desired to do so. Of course, there was a moment of doubt for a space, because Brad began dating Kimberly Johnson who had graduated with the '87 class. She was attending the Institution of Performing Arts at Babylon, which was a good two hours away from Riverside. After a slight melodrama, it was agreed that Kimberly would not need to make the trip to Riverside for prom, but that Brad would make the trip to Babylon for her homecoming the following year. When you're talking in terms of high school relationships and long-distance at that, it wasn't the best arrangement. However, both parties agreed that was okay. No one wanted to see Samantha Montgomery stranded at prom.

The theme for the prom was Sweet Dreams, though it was clear from the decorations that it had little to do with Salvador Dali's dreams and more to do with young aspirations of romantic fantasies. There were lots of hearts, clouds, candles, a Cupid and waterfall of pink punch. It was soothing and romantic. It got the job done for those looking for love. Samantha Montgomery was not looking for such.

Brad picked up Samantha from her house, he was on time and looking handsome. He had pictures taken with the family, more a formality and less to do with romanticism. They met with their friends and had some relatively fine dining to their parents' expense. Everything was going smooth and wonderful.

When they reached the high school and began to enter a voice called from behind a hedge, "Brad."

He made his way to the beckoning voice and a slight discussion erupted behind the hedge, but no one could make out what was being said. Eventually, the voices died down and two people came from the shadow of the hedge, Brad and Kimberly Johnson. Apparently, Kimberly was the jealous type and had broken the truce. She was dressed in a dashing dress that really upstaged Samantha's outfit. Brad spoke up first,

"Samantha, is it okay if I spend the evening with Kim?"

Friends being friends were enraged, "Kim, you're a--"

"Yes," Samantha interrupted, "You can."

"Sam," one of her friends contended, "You don't have to--"

"It's okay," Samantha replied, "I just wanna have fun. I want everyone to have fun."

Friends being friends gave in, but not without some harsh glares in Kimberly's direction. It didn't phase her though, she's in college and their in high school. They were nothing to her.

Everyone entered the gym and joined the dance; Samantha sat near her dancing friends and drank some of that pink punch from Dreamland.

Jason Richard Wright was dressed in a grey sports jacket and tie, the first time he'd ever donned one. He looked a bit awkward in it, pulling at the knot of the tie constantly. His grey jacket had brown patches on the elbows, a fashion statement that would soon pass but not soon enough. He held a skinny, rectangular Kodak camera in one hand and a notepad in the other. He had no date, but he wanted to go, so he volunteered to write a story on prom for the newspaper. He'd never written for the paper, it was more of an excuse for his parents and so that he'd feel better about the fact that he had no one to dance with.

"Hey, Jason, man!" Peter shouted as he grabbed some more punch from the waterfall with one hand and held onto Leslie Bronx's hand with the other. She looked ravishing, Jason Richard Wright thought to himself. Peter was sweating, "Get out there and break it down, man!"

"No, I uh," Jason reasoned, "I'm writing a story for the newspaper."

"You're not on the newspaper staff, man."

"I know, I volunteered."

"Why?" Leslie asked.

"I don't know," Jason was horrible at lying, "It sounded fun."

Peter gave Jason a look of obvious doubt, "Jason, it's not fun," he took the camera from and notepad and threw them in the waterfall, "There, no you can't write the story. Guess you'll have to make one up later."

Peter than ran back to the dance floor with Leslie, Jason Richard Wright looked in the punch at his camera and notepad, I'm dead, he thought, That's Mom's camera.

In a rush, Jason Richard Wright sat at a table and grabbed some napkins. He began drying the camera off, than he looked up to see Samantha sitting across from him. He recognized her from Biology with Ms. Paulette, she was notorious for being a strange sort and rumored to be into Wicca.

She looks amazing, Jason Richard Wright thought to himself, But she's a witch, Mom would kill me.

"Hey, Jason," she spoke.

"Hey, Samantha, I'm sorry. I thought the table was empty, I was kinda in a hurry. Peter trashed my camera."

"Yeah," she looked at it, "Bum night for you, too, huh?"

"I guess. What's wrong with you?"

"I got dumped."

"Like before the dance?"

"No," she looked out to the floor and watched Kimberly flaunting herself all over Brad, "I got dumped here."

"Really?" Jason was appalled, "That's retarded. Who would do that?"

"Brad Smith."

"Well," Jason let it slip out, "I think you look stunning."

For the first time, Jason Richard Wright caught Samantha Montgomery's attention, "Really?"

"Oh, sorry, that just kinda slipped out."

"Jason," Samantha leaned across to him and placed her hand on his that was still gripping the camera, "You don't have to apologize for complimenting people."

"Okay."

It appeared that a light bulb shot off in Samantha's head and she leapt to her feet and rushed to his side, "Jason, dance with me!"

"I don't know..."

"Jason, please."

Their first dance was to "White Wedding" by Billy Idol. For the first and possibly the only time, Jason Richard Wright behaved lacking nerves and violent tendencies. They danced, that was certain. They danced to every song that was played, it didn't matter whether it was slow or fast. They barely left each other's embrace. Eventually, they ran to the waterfall to grab some punch. Mrs. Kelly was standing nearby, "Samantha, I see you aren't alone anymore."

"No, Mrs. Kelly," Samantha spoke, "Jason rescued me."

"Well, he certainly is a fine gentleman."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kelly," Jason Richard Wright blushed.

And with that they were back onto the floor and dancing together, holding each other tight. Jason Richard Wright had noticed that when they were together, they were warm, they were sweaty and he could smell both of their smells. Her perfume and his cologne. It was as if it mixed with the sweat becoming one, running from one body to the other as they embraced. He decided it was a wondrous smell.

At one point in the night, they ran to where Kimberly and Brad were dancing to a slow piece and danced right next to them. It was Samantha's revenge and Jason Richard Wright, in his own way, was defeating the beast with his broadsword, shield and shiny armor.

"So here I am with open arms," Jason Richard Wright sang the tune into Samantha's ear, her head resting on his shoulder, "Hoping you'll see what your love means to me... open arms."

"Jason Wright is taking me home," Samantha Montgomery proudly proclaimed to Brad Smith at the end of the evening.

"It's my brother's car, actually," Jason Richard Wright explained, as they sat inside the car, just outside her house.

"Yeah," she said, "That's okay, I don't have a car either."

"Oh, cool."

"Well, I guess this is it, huh?" Samantha said, looking straight out the windshield, Jason Richard Wright did the same, "Guess, I better get out, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so."

She turned to him, "Jason... thank you. Thank you for saving me tonight."

And then... there was silence. This would be the silence Jason Richard Wright would never forget. He sat looking out the windshield, but on the corner of his eye he could see she was facing him. And they sat there this way. Truthfully, it was for about twenty seconds, but Jason Richard Wright has confused it between one minute to two, sometimes even three minutes. For someone in his shoes, it may be twenty seconds but it is actually an eternity.

Is she wanting me to kiss her? he asked himself, frightened of the answer, I think she does. I've never done that. Okay, here goes.

Time was up.

She got out of the car, "Good night, Jason."

He looked to her, "Good night, Samantha."

He kicked himself all weekend, and when Monday came he figured he'd apologize and proclaim his love and compassion in Biology. But, before he ever gained the opportunity to do so, it was clear that she had dismissed it as a just friends thing.

Jason Richard Wright would never forgive himself for passing the opportunity to kiss Samantha Montgomery.