• The girl:

    "Where's Taylor?" Mr.Sherman the homeroom teacher of the sophomore class inquired.

    "I saw her at her locker, sir." Connor Williams, her best friend since 2nd grade responded.

    "Well, I hope she's not late; I wouldn't want to have to write her up for--"

    "Sorry, Mr. Sherman. My locker was jammed, and I-I just couldn't o-open it." Taylor stammered out as she scurried over to her seat.

    "Jeez, I thought I was going to have to make up some story about you having some period crisis or something." Connor whispered.
    "Oh shut up. My locker really was jammed."

    And with that the bell finally rang promptly at 8:20 as it it did every normal school day. At Killian Hill Christian following the rules and the schedule were some of the main priorities. The school had grades K5-12 (all in separate buildings, of course); so obviously, the classes were small, about 30 kids per class. In the sophomores case, there were 32 kids. Most of the kids went to Killian Hill Christian Baptist Church or Berian Baptist church, and that's how cliques were formed within the classes. Not by genre or looks, but by church, how Godly. Yet if you were not of the either churches then you were a virtual pariah. Taylor was Episcopalian and did not attend church regularly. She wasn't an ugly girl, she loved acting, she played tennis, and she had straight A's. Not everyone liked her within the school, but the only bad things they could say is that she was "different."

    But Taylor didn't mind. She had a small group of friends in school and out. People sometimes bothered her, and her shyness could be misunderstood as being a "snob." But she tried to keep a smile on her face. She would always tell her mom when she inquired if Taylor was okay this: I'm not there for friends and socializing, just education.

    As class winded down the last few minutes, Mr.Sherman allowed them to talk.
    "So how's Caleb? Connor asked with a sneer. Taylor's hazel eyes lit up as little lights, and a smile spread across her face.

    "Oh, well...he's good. More like...amazing. I just can't get over how perfect his is. It's as if he came from a dream." Taylor exclaimed as her smile got wider and wider.

    "Spare me."
    "Oh come on, I really like him."
    "Mmm-hmm. Just like you really liked Arlyn, Jacob, Zach, who else?"
    "Gah! Shut up! I am more mature now. I am sixteen."
    "And that makes more of a difference?"
    "Yes."
    "Whatever. So how are you friends in Henry County?"
    "Jacob's good. Joel's good. Becca's good. But Mason never called me back last night..."
    "Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you."
    "But we used to talk all the time. I really don't understand."
    "You like him too?"
    "No. What makes you think that?"
    "The redness of your chipmunk cheeks when you say his name."

    Before Taylor could even state an argument, the bell rang at 9:10 and Connor made his way out before she could say another word.

    The Boy:
    "I really don't understand what would make him do something like this. I mean he's been wild since summer but not this wild. I suppose it could be him taking advantage of the fact that he's father is out of the country for business." Paula Spain, Mason's mom, explained calmly to the officer.

    "Well, m'am, we did some other required tests and did find a small amount of drugs in his system." the officer said with a solemn look upon his face.

    "My God." Paula said as she placed her head in her hands and tried to remain as calm as possible.
    "We will have to take him to YDC and place him under house arrest. But it won't be for too long. Only a few months. But he will have a probation officer and tests for drugs will be taken regularly."
    "I understand. Do what you think is necessary."

    Mason laid on his bed as he awaited his sentence. No nervousness or anxiety was physically present, nor emotionally. He ran his hands through his shaggy dirty blonde hair and closed his blue eyes. How long were they going to take him away? Was his mother going to even help him? What would his dad do? All these questions and more ran through his head.

    "You all packed?" his mom asked.
    "Yep." he said without even a glance.
    "Mason, don't blame me for this."
    "I'm not blaming anyone..."
    "You're blaming me."
    "Mom, did you even try to help me?"
    "No! I did not, son. You got yourself into this; you've got to pay the consequences."
    "Have you told dad?"
    "Not yet. Look, you've gotta go now. I want you to get better and straighten up. Go say bye to your sister."
    "Alright. Will do."