Kate savoured the anticipation in the softly lit dining room. Saturday night at La Traviata always stirred the senses, and the restaurant stood poised as the first of Bloomington’s fine diners came to partake of the prandial delights and parade their couture. It felt to Kate like grand theatre, her part as waitress lent elegance by proximity to the evening’s drama. Her order pad became a script in her hand and she unconsciously rehearsed tonight’s specials like lines from a great play.

Entranced by the borrowed sense of celebration, she pirouetted between tables, ensuring each white cloth was immaculate. Soon she would dance to a symphony of mingled voices, laughter and the clink of glassware and cutlery. Four hours would see crisp napkins rumpled, red wine splashed across tablecloths, and plates bearing evidence of a meal thoroughly consummated. The patrons would leave with sated appetites, their generous tips and smiles contributing both to Kate’s college fund and to her vicarious enjoyment of the evening’s headiness.

The performance was not Kate’s alone; other players began their roles. Starring as owner and hostess, Christina imperiously surveyed the rapidly-filling restaurant. D’Angelo, the fatherly maitre d’, greeted patrons as long-awaited guests. Darren manhandled a keg into position beneath the bar, flashing Kate a grin as he spirited away the empty, and Amy, a fellow waitress, raised an eyebrow in amusement. Such unspoken conspiratorial games between employees were spice to the mix, and Kate laughed.

From the kitchen, Chef Andreou assaulted the dining room with volleys of sound and smell, presiding over a violence of crashing pots and flashing knives. From the maelstrom of stovetop fireballs and gesticulated red-faced shouts, Kate delivered the first exquisite dishes to the crowded restaurant, fleeing the delicious sensory overload.

“Kate!” Darren called. He inhabited the shadows of the storeroom corridor like a banished dog, his jeans and boots out of place in the formal glitter of the dining room. “Can you give me a hand?”

Darren was one of Christina’s numerous nephews and usually finished his storeman work before Kate’s shift began. She swallowed the familiar disquiet of a stranger possessing her name, remembering the nametag on her blouse, and followed him into the storeroom.

“What do you...?”

Darren silenced her with a finger almost to her lips, his hand sudden at her back and his smile - all teeth, no eyes - encircling her. He closed the heavy door, replacing the laughter of the dining room with dull cool silence. Acrid refrigerant crept at Kate’s nostrils and her shoes were mired in stale beer spillage.

Stacked beer kegs and cases of wine filled the storeroom. Adjusting to the bare lightbulb glare, Kate saw an incongruous makeshift table of cartons laid with cutlery, glasses, and two meals.

“Have dinner with me?”

In the incandescent glow, Darren’s grin became a leer, and Kate was aware that his arm encircled her waist proprietorially.

“I... I can’t. I’m working.” Kate stammered. “Maybe at the end of my shift...?” Anything to return to the welcoming laughter and escape this uncomfortably solitary embrace. During her shift? Was he crazy, or drunk - or both?

“We’ll get to know each other. Relax - I’m a nice guy.”

Darren guided her to the box forming her seat at his table for two. Beyond it she saw a bed of tablecloths on the bare floor between two stacks of beer kegs. Darren followed her gaze.

“For after, hey?” Darren’s mouth smiled, but his eyes moved down her neck, appraising her like a dish. At his lip, saliva glistened and was caught with a flick of his tongue.

Revulsion propelled her upwards, but his quick shadow enveloped the room and Kate with it, wrenching her into stark awareness of each moment....

Cold steel at her back mirrors a blade angled above her collarbone. Darren too seems surprised at the steak knife in his hand but, as if to dispel his misgivings, it presses deeper.

“Not a word,” he says, more malevolent for this departure from his rehearsed script. Kate shrinks against a keg, its rim biting at her thighs. Kicking only sends her shoes flying. Her ponytail becomes a marionette string in his grasp, making the weapon unnecessary.

Darren’s sour malt odour penetrates her mouth and nostrils. Now she notices the stinging at her neck, the blood and perspiration trickling a threat down between her breasts toward her very core. She knows he can take what he wants from her.

“No!” Like Andreou’s frypan catching flame, a fireball of panic erupts and is gone, leaving only a terrible clarity: to escape, she must improvise her own seduction. “I meant, let’s make it nice.”

Darren accepts her abrupt capitulation as inevitable. Swallowing sourness, she allows him to draw her down by the wrists into the gloomy cavern between the stacked kegs. Kate locks eyes with his, willing each bare footstep from the sticky floor. She arches her blouse against his knuckles, countering his harsh grasp with her softness. And now his hands are upon her like giant spiders....

Violated, Kate’s senses contract to a single white-hot point of light. Her fists find the reassurance of steel keg rims to either side of her. The brilliant nucleus of rage explodes, throwing her backward as the heavy cylinders crash down in a chaos of echoes and flashing metal.

Dull silence returns. Only Darren’s feet protrude from the heap. Kate sinks onto a fallen keg, its unyielding steel now an ally.

In a second or two, Kate thinks, she will face demanding critics: d’Angelo, Christina, the police. She will return to the restaurant and reveal tragedy where only laughter was anticipated. She closes her eyes, and her heartbeat is loud in her ears, incessantly echoing the falling kegs. Weighty self-doubts crash down on her momentarily unassailable triumph.

Kate knows she has given the performance of a lifetime. Yet she is already aware that when the house lights come up and she faces the audience, there will be no applause.

Crush rises to his full superhuman height, shaking off shards of the smashed green lollipop from which he has arisen. His powerful green fist punches at the empty air above him, ready to defeat some dreadful foe. He ducks through the doorway of the 8th Avenue Bank, looking for the crime which has summoned him. Busy tellers go about their work as customers mill around. Near the security guard, an old lady in a pink dress digs through her enormous handbag. As she pulls her hand out, Crush sees the gun she's raising toward the guard. He leaps across the room, knocks her down, and bites her arm with his mighty teeth. Her gun skids across the floor to the guard, who reflexively dives for it. The old lady screams, but before the guard looks up, Crush is gone.

———————————————

"Yahhh!!! Get this kid off me!" yelled Dr. Hertz, as he pulled his bitten arm away from the now-alert Tommy, who until the biting had been resting calmly while the dentist worked. "What is this kid's problem? That's the second time!"

"Honestly, Frank, I don't know what's gotten into him," Tommy's mother said at dinner that night while Tommy struggled to keep still.

"Maybe Dr. MacKenzie can shed some light tomorrow, JoAnne. I've never been a big fan of counseling, though."

Tommy burst excitedly into the conversation. "I stopped a lady with a gun at the bank! She looked really old, but she was just faking it, like on Halloween. I was Crush, and I bit her arm, and...."

"Tommy, it was the dentist you bit... again," Frank interrupted. I don't want to hear any more about Crush. I don't mind if you have your little fantasies, but when it comes to hurting people, it just has to stop!"

Looking at Tommy's crestfallen face, Frank softened. "Hey, slugger, Dr. MacKenzie wants to hear all about Crush tomorrow. He loves great stories like that!"

"Really?" Tommy's face lit up, and Frank felt his heart swell. He had had his own imaginary friends as a child, and sympathized with his son.

Later, as Tommy slept upstairs, JoAnne turned down the TV and faced Frank, "I sure hope Dr. MacKenzie can help. When I was a kid, if we played superhero, we pinned a pillowcase onto our shoulders and ran around pretending to fly. Insisting that you personally stopped all kinds of real crimes is taking it too far, in my opinion, especially if you're going to hit and bite people."

She suddenly turned the TV volume back up.

"... the would-be robber, dressed as an elderly woman in a pink dress, dropped his gun right in front of the security guard. The bank's video surveillance only shows a huge shadow at the time. Police aren't sure yet how the suspect managed to cause the interference..."

JoAnne wondered aloud, "How did Tommy hear about that? Maybe the news was on my car radio on the way home...." Her voice trailed off. It had been a busy day, and Tommy must have picked up on a story that she had missed.

"Crush is me, Dr. MacZ!" Tommy started during his appointment the next day. "It happens when someone crushes a lollipop, and only if a bad thing is gonna happen, but you can't crush it on purpose," he frowned. "I tried, and my friend Silvio tried, too. It started when Dr. Hertz gave me a filling and said not to eat candy anymore." Tommy shifted a little. "I didn't mean to bite him...."

Several days later, Tommy's teacher noticed him staring blankly out the window during History. "Tommy? Tommy…," she started.

———————————————

Crush looks down in satisfaction at his red self and sees the crushed cherry lollipop on the garage floor under his feet. Green, now red — so much better than that pineapple color last month. No time to waste, though; he walks around looking for the impending crime. Up ahead, a woman and little girl are pulling out of a parking space when Crush sees a man running toward the car. Crush rushes up and punches him to the ground, then bites the hand holding the gun intended for the carjacking. The unsuspecting woman leaves the garage none the wiser, but Crush sees the little girl staring at him through the car's window and gesturing as the car turns onto the street.

———————————————

"…Tommy, are you okay? Didn't you hear me?"

Tommy sat up, dropping his badly-bitten pencil, suddenly alert at the sound of his teacher's voice. "Yes, Miss Tyler. I'm sorry."

"Please pay attention. I want you to do well in my class, so you need to listen, okay?" He was such a sweet boy, she thought, but troubled. "If you like, you can talk to me after class."

Instead, Tommy waited to tell Dr. "MacZ". He had really listened when Tommy told him all about Crush and wanted to hear more stories every visit. Tommy couldn't wait for his next appointment!

On the news that night, Tommy's parents heard about a man found lying on the floor of a downtown garage, with a gun lying nearby. Seems the man had tripped when he was about to carjack a woman and her young daughter, Emily, as they were leaving the garage. Emily insisted, "A big red monster hit the bad guy and bit his arm!"

Chuckling after the interview, the newscaster chirped, "Be on the lookout for a giant Elmo. Emily's mother wants to give him a reward."

"At least Tommy didn't try to take credit for that one," JoAnne sighed. "Imagine his Crush as a giant Elmo!"

Frank replied hopefully, "Maybe our boy is starting to outgrow his imaginary friend with Dr. MacKenzie's help."

Peeking in on Tommy on their way to bed, JoAnne smiled. "He's sound asleep."

———————————————

Crush scans the scene while shaking off purple candy shards from his powerful body. He feels a little queasy, and looking down, notices his gooey chocolate center. "Rats!" he says. His task this time will be more difficult than usual.

She was waiting for him when he walked in the door. She was a faithful wife, so that wasn’t unusual; what she was wearing was. He paused and she could see him mentally running through his calendar of important dates, wondering what he’d forgotten this time.

“Hey baby, you look great. What’s the occasion?” He slowly looked her over with a look of pure masculine appreciation. She walked towards him, hips swaying. The appreciation on his face turned to anticipation.

“Like what you see, honey?”

“Oh yeah. Is that a new dress?”

She skimmed her hands down her body, gently caressing the curves on display. His eyes got hotter.

“Like it? The shoes are new, too. I’ve been saving them for something special.” She stopped in front of him. “You see, today is a very special day.”

“Really?”

She reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him closer.

“Really,” she whispered in his ear.

Abruptly, she let go and spun away.

“You see, these lovely flowers were delivered today.” She picked up a bouquet from the coffee table. “Aren’t they gorgeous? Two dozen roses in a beautiful crystal vase. It was so nice of you to send them - and it isn’t even our anniversary. As a matter of fact, I think you only sent one dozen on our anniversary.”

A look - horror? dread? - flashed across his face.

“Let’s read the card, shall we?” She pulled it out of the envelope with a flourish. “Thank you for last night - a moment in time I will never forget. You are my soul mate, my one true love.”

“Such a sweet, touching card. Right away I started planning a special evening for you, for us. Then I remembered that you had to work late last night.” She took a step towards him, holding the flowers. “A client requested a last minute change, didn’t they? Had to deliver first thing in the morning or you’d lose their business, right?” She moved closer.

“The florist must have - “

The vase shattered at his feet, scattering roses around him. Shards of crystal sparkled like diamonds among blood-red tears.

“Don’t even go there. I called the florist. Only one person ordered two dozen roses today, and they were positive it was you. Seems like you’re one of their regular customers.”

He backed up as she kept advancing.

“Honey, it’s not what it seems...”

“That’s good to know. Because it seems like you’ve been cheating on me. But I’m willing to hear your side of the story.” She paused, waiting.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you. I was working last night. Never left the office. I swear.”

“So I guess your credit card just wandered away by itself to buy that expensive meal at Ristorante L'Osteria, huh?”

He paled as she approached him.

“Sweetie, I’m sure we can work this out. It was a mistake.”

She was close enough now to see the sweat on his brow, the look of desperation in his eyes.

“You’re right. You did make a mistake.”

Suddenly her leg swung out and caught him behind the knee. He fell to the floor, momentarily stunned. Before he could react she planted her heel in his chest and grabbed his tie. She couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his starched white shirt and the daring animal print of her shoe. Only a strong woman could wear these shoes.

“Eleven years. For eleven years I did everything you asked. I made your favorite meals. I washed your clothes. When you complained about my body, I took up kick boxing and karate. All for you.” She pulled the tie harder and watched it tighten around his throat. The stiletto heel dug deeper into his soft flesh.

“And what did I get in exchange? A husband who couldn’t keep it in his pants.” She let go of his tie and he dropped back to the floor. Before he could move, she delivered a sharp kick to his chest.

“Your soul mate, huh?” She kicked again and he cried out as the heel struck bone. “One true love, huh?” She lashed out again and was rewarded by a loud crack. He clutched his ribs and tried to sit up.

“Stop. Pain.”

Another kick. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word pain. But you will.” She delivered a blow to his head, knocking him down then following it with another shot to his ribs.

He gasped for air, struggled for words. “Can’t. Breathe. Call. 911.” He coughed and foamy blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t worry.” Kick. “I will.” Kick. “In due time.” Kick.

When it was over, she exchanged her dress for a pair of paint-spattered jeans and a sweatshirt. Then she lovingly inspected the shoes. Their patent leather finish was still pristine, the heels perfect. She carefully placed them back in the box. She hated to give them up, but she really didn’t have a choice.

*****

The detectives sat at their desks, reviewing the file.

“Medical examiner ruled cause of death as asphyxia due to extreme chest trauma. Thinks the guy’s chest was crushed by a woman wearing stiletto heels.”

“Wife?”

“Checked all of her shoes. Couldn’t find a match. Only owns sneakers and flats, not a single heel in the bunch.”

*****

“Reason for the return?” the store clerk had asked.

“They just don’t fit with my wardrobe,” she responded.

The clerk nodded. “I understand. But they’re killer shoes.”

She smiled. “You’re right about that.”

"So, let's sum up what we have so far", said Mr Cynic.

His real name was Smith, but as a Latin teacher with classical attitude he had been a prime target for an alternative handle.

"The slave Janus had been toiling all day on the construction", he continued in his strong clear but completely emotionless tenor voice. "He sneaked away behind a mound of earth to take a rest and was caught by the gangmaster who sent him to the Centurion for his punishment. The Centurion, after mocking him, had asked him what punishment he had been sent to do".

He looked up at the class and was just opening his mouth to speak when he froze, his gaze fixed on a girl by the window in the third row who was staring dreamily out the window. He quietly wandered over and down the aisle towards the girl as the rest of class silently watched his every move with nervous expectant grins on their faces.

Jane was oblivious to what was happening in class. She watched a boy come out of the hall at the head of the quad and imagined it was Simon. He was walking towards the language block and she imagined he was coming for her, unable to contain his emotions. She thought about the buds and the herbs she had crushed with the pestle in the mortar to make the magic potion and remembered the sheen it had left behind after she had smeared it on his bicycle saddle. She imagined him bursting into class with his arms wide open unable to contain his emotion, a bunch of roses in his hand, a wild and desperate look on his face, and he would cry out "Jane! I love you, I've had a crush on you ever since I first met you...".

Then again, perhaps not, she thought, coming to earth with a bump when she remembered that the class was full of her peers and a very cynical classics master. But maybe he would wait outside, desperate to catch her as soon as she came out of class, maybe he had...

"SO MISS SIMPSON, WHAT COMES NEXT!", Mr Cynic bellowed into her ear. She shot three feet into the air as the rest of the class roared with laughter and the master straightened himself up proud of his accomplishment in both chastising the girl and gaining the approval of the rest of the class for the manner in which he had done it.

Jane looked around desperately for some hint or clue of what she should do. Mr Cynic proceeded:

"Janus has to tell the centurion what punishment he has been sent for, remember?" He spoke as if she were three years old.

"Obterere lapidibus", he said as Jane fumbled in the pages of the book, "To crush stones; now, read on".

But Jane couldn't read. She had found the text but her mind was blocked. Obterere lapidibus, she read again, that had been the name of the recipe for the magic potion, what was it doing here? No, wait, she thought, that wasn't it, there had been another word. She was so confused. The book of magic potions was all in Latin and printed in an antique font but she was sure she had understood it, she had checked all the words in the dictionary, it was a potion for a boy on which you had a crush......but, to crush stones?

There had been another word. It was all coming together, she had thought it was a potion for a boy she had a crush on, but she hadn't bothered looking up the other word, and if she had got the grammar wrong?

"We are all waiting", said the Latin master in a tone that did his nickname full justice.

Jane didn't even hear him. The penny had dropped. She stood up, brushed him aside and ran out of the class.

"Miss Jane Simpson" bellowed the master, but she was already out the room before he had finished.

She ran out onto the quad just as Simon was coming out of the hall, it really was him this time, she had to get to him. The clock on the tower started to chime: Ding dong ding dong. She called out:

"SIMON, SIMON, WAIT".

Simon looked round and stopped, puzzled at the sight of the girl desperately running towards him. He vaguely knew her. She was in the chess club but he had never understood why, she seemed more interested in being his personal cheerleader than actually playing the game. He imagined her wanting to engage him in some sickly appraisal of the way he played; he pretended he had not understood and turned to walk away around the back of the tower.

The clock continued it's chime: ding dong ding CRACK!

It was a mighty crack. Short, sharp, but very loud. The sound seemed to be everywhere at once. Startled by the sound Jane looked up and she saw a great crack had appeared up the side of the tower, rubble was falling away and stones were starting to come adrift. She looked down and saw that Simon was nervously edging back from the tower, not sure what was going to happen next.

"SIMON, GET OUT OF THE WAY", she yelled, but as she spoke there was a mighty crash and the tower came tumbling and grumbling down to the ground as a mighty cloud of dust rose up out of the rubble towards the sky.

Jane fell to her knees and watched the dust settle on the pile of rocks that had covered all that she had desired. The third word, the phrase, the grammar, she couldn't believe how stupid she had been:

"Obterere lapidibus puerum", she said under her breath, "To crush a boy with stones".

Jack sat in the school cafeteria oblivious to the smells of mystery meat and the tables of cheer leaders rigorously divided by clique. He was watching Caitlin make her entrance. Caitlin was the school celebrity. She had made the top ten on one of those reality shows over the summer, and according to school gossip, was being courted by producers from across the country. Well, the other version was that she was doing producers across the country, but Jack didn't believe it for a moment. She looked too sweet and innocent than to be anything other than what he thought she was; a high school girl caught up by sudden fame.

"Have you ever noticed that she doesn't have an entourage?" Meighan leaned her crutches against the table and tucked into the mystery meat and gravy that the cafeteria was selling today.

"How can you eat that stuff?" Jack said, "Who knows what's in there?"

"Don't change the subject," Meighan said in between bites of her lunch. Jack unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite of the organic ham and cheese on whole wheat bread.

"No, I can't say that I have," Jack said.

"She never eats with the same people. Like, the cheer leading captain has her flunkies; the basketball diva has her hangers-on. Heck even the math team champ has her fellow nerds to tell her how smart she is. Yet Caitlin eats alone as often as not."

"Why would she do that?"

"Here," Meighan handed Jack a napkin, "You're drooling again."

"Oh, get on," Jack threw the napkin at her. She had been eating lunch with him for so long that he forgot why they had started. Wherever Jack sat, Meighan plunked herself down beside him. He didn't mind, her comments on the rest of the student body were hilarious, and she was a vicious gin rummy player. He went back to watching Caitlin. Maybe Meighan was right. He couldn't remember Caitlin really talking to anybody since she got back from that show.

"You should go and talk to her."

"Right," Jack said, "I should talk to her. I'm Mr. Invisible. The girls on either side of my locker talk as if I'm not even there."

"They have each other, Caitlin is alone."

"What would she want to talk to me about?" Jack crumpled up his lunch bag and tossed it at the garbage can. He missed, as usual, and had to go pick it up and put in it the can.

"You're funny," said Meighan, "You're the second best rummy player in the school..."

"Ha, ha, you're only leading by a hundred points."

"But I am leading."

Jack rolled his eyes, and went back to staring at Caitlin. He couldn't help it. He had watched the program every week and voted for her until she was dropped off the show. He'd stopped watching then. Looking at Caitlin made him feel that his heart was being squeezed by a fist. Not that his heart was any great prize; Jack kept having his heart broken by girls who didn't even know he existed.

The bell rang and the students filed out to go to their next class.

The next day Jack sat so he would have a good view of the door when Caitlin walked in. He was watching the door so hard that he didn't notice her sit beside him.

"Meighan told me you wanted to talk to me."

Jack opened and closed his mouth several times. That hand around his heart was the only thing keeping it from jumping right out of his chest.

"Hi Caitlin," he said, thinking that he was going to kill Meighan when he got the chance.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"It must be hard coming back to school after being famous and everything."

"Hunh," Caitlin poked at the food on her tray. "Do you think this is pudding or library paste?"

"Definitely library paste."

"I hate being famous," she said pushing the bowl away, "Everyone thinks I'm stuck up, or rich, or sleeping with people to win. I mean, I came ninth! Who sleeps with someone to come ninth?"

Jack could feel the blood running to his face. He was sure his head was going to explode.

"Ah, I just liked your singing," he said, "I was so mad when they made you leave."

"Yeah, that sucked," she said, "but I wasn't that good. The girl who won was so much better."

"She wasn't bad."

Caitlin laughed and every one in the cafeteria turned to look.

"I could take voice lessons my whole life and not be as good as her. I bet she isn't sitting in her school cafeteria with everyone hating her."

"I don't hate you."

"No?"

"No," Jack took a bite of his sandwich. "Do you want to go to a movie or something?"

"A movie sounds nice."

Meighan watched from the other side of the cafeteria. She shoveled the food into her mouth without tasting it. She hadn't thought it would be so hard. She had thought that if Jack actually talked to Caitlin that he might realize how wrong she was for him. Yet there they were laughing like old friends. She felt like she was melting inside, except for her heart, she had lost that to Jack years ago when he was the only boy not to tease her about the crutches.

Now she sat in the cafeteria and let her hot tears fall into the pudding that tasted exactly like library paste.

"Hey, kiddos! I'm home! And guess what," Julie said as she kicked the front door closed. "Someone sent me an early birthday present!" She dropped the box on the coffee table, along with her purse and the rest of the mail.

Justin and Nick sniffed excitedly at her from their positions halfway up the cage wall. She laughed. "No way, that's my dinner! Oh, I suppose you can have some. Mind if I cook it first? No? Why, thank you!" The two rats perked up their ears at the rustle of the plastic bag. They crowded into the corner nearest the kitchen, each trying to shove the other out of the way in order to get the first - and best! - piece of the bell pepper their mom was slicing up.

"I'm starving. How about you guys?" Julie glanced into the living room. She frowned and put down the knife. "Hey, where's Brutus? Is he still sleeping?" She walked over to the cage. Brutus was absent from the pre-dinner wrestling match, all right, but the tip of a tail poking out from the bedding in the green plastic igloo they slept in told her that Brutus was indeed still sleeping.

"That boy," she said, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "I swear he wouldn't even wake up if I tossed him across the room. Not that I would do that, of course," she added. "But knowing him, he wouldn't mind a bit."

Julie bopped the pair of furry noses begging for dinner. They nipped at the pepper juice lingering on her fingertips. "Hey!" She snatched her hand away. "How many times do I have to tell you? I am not food!" She tsked at her boys and went back to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

***************

"Brutus, baby, you're really missing out!" Julie called to the narcoleptic rat, who responded by staying narcoleptic. She shrugged. "Your brothers are going to eat your pepper, you know." Justin and Nick munched away at their dinners, both sitting close enough to Brutus' piece to snatch it away quickly, yet sitting far enough away to seem nonchalant about it.

"So, should I open my present?" Julie grabbed the package and plopped down on the ground. It was an average-sized box, one that might have been used to ship a set of mixing bowls. The box was decorated with stickers - balloons, streamers, a birthday cake. A smiley face grinned at Julie from where the return address should have been written. "Hmm. A mystery! Maybe even a secret admirer!"

She ran a scissor blade along the flaps to break the tape. Inside the box was a large plastic container surrounded by packing peanuts. A large envelope was taped to the lid. "Gift first, I think," she said to her inattentive rats.

"What could it be, kiddos? It's cold, so something perishable, obviously. Oh, maybe it's a fruit bouquet, or some chocolate strawberries!" Julie pulled off the lid and frowned. "A rose?" She turned to the rats. "This whole box of ice for just one rose? Boys?" Justin and Nick were fighting over something by the igloo. She shrugged.

The envelope was plain white, unadorned by writing or birthday stickers. She tore open the flap and pulled out a sheet of printer paper.

You are so beautiful when you are sleeping.

"What? Wha-? No, no, no-" Julie bit her lip and willed herself to take a deep breath. "It's a joke. It's just a joke. Guys, did you- no, no of course you didn't. You couldn't. What are you- what's that? No, give it." Hands shaking, she pulled the cage door open. The two rats were engaged in a massive tug-of-war with what looked like a piece of thick, pink yarn. Julie reached in and yanked it away. She stared at the yarn - no wait, not yarn, not yarn at all.

Julie sat down hard, her head reeling with thoughts she never thought she'd think. The box - oh God the box - was Brutus in the box? She grabbed the box and, after tossing aside the frozen rose, started pawing through the ice. Her fingers touched fur. "Oh Brutus!" She brushed the ice from his body and lifted him out. She cradled him to her chest and stroked his matted fur.

"He was your favorite, wasn't he?"

Julie whipped her head around and stared at the figure in the doorway. "Sarah? What are you doing here?" She glanced down at Brutus. "You killed him, didn't you? I don't- Why?"

Sarah stepped into the room, her cheeks streaked with tears. "I remember when we would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie, or even just cuddling, and Brutus would scramble up and nose his way in between us. He was your favorite." She sighed. "I wanted to be your favorite, Jules."

Julie shook her head. "No! Get out!" She whipped her head around, looking for something - anything - to use as a weapon.

"I love watching you sleep. The way you twitch when you're dreaming. How your hair bunches up on the pillow." Sarah closed her eyes and brushed at her hair. She smiled at the memory. "I always imagined you were dreaming about me. But when you were awake," she said, her eyes snapping open, "it was all about him. I got to thinking; if it weren't for him, I would be the one."

"Are you kidding me?" Julie laughed. "You psychotic freak! I could never love you!"

Sarah lifted her hand. Lamplight glinted off the blade. "I know."

Clearing his throat he tried again, “It’s such a beautiful day. Hear the gulls my sweet, aren’t they lovely!” He shook his head and took another sip from his wine glass. This wasn’t working out like he’d hoped.

He’d planned this day for weeks; the perfect music had been dialed up on the radio and playing softly in the background but then the announcer kept ruining it by speaking between songs and even during songs. This just wasn’t working. He’d dug through his CD’s and then his older cassettes and finally had resorted to looking through the old albums collecting dust in the attic. But he’d found the perfect music and it now sat quietly spinning on the turn table as it had finished playing minutes ago and he hadn’t even realized that no music issued from the speakers.

The glass of wine gripped loosely in his hand sloshed a bit and he’d refilled it a few more times than he knew. His walk wasn’t quite as steady as he thought. His speech wasn’t quite as clear as he thought. But in his mind, aside from the music problem, all was going well. Of course, the girl of his dreams still hadn’t shown up, but that was alright, she usually worked late and should be coming home soon.

He tried practicing his line again; he’d worked for days on the perfect thing to say and the perfect moment to say them. He cleared his throat, and thought aristocrat, yeah, that would impress her. “You look lovely tonight my dear, let me pour you a glass of wine.” He shook his head and red wine slipped over the rim of the glass and onto the hard wood flooring.

He began to pace from the fireplace to the small wine tub he’d had delivered and the baskets of grapes that now sat waiting in expectation. He’d borrowed books on wine making and although he didn’t have all the ingredients he needed to make wine, he felt confident that it would be fun for her to stomp on grapes and pretend to make a bottle of wine. The night would be perfect. He was sure of it.

Candles glowed around the room; the record player softly serenaded him… “Huh?” He moved over to the record player he’d dug out of the closet in the extra bedroom and saw the vinyl album spinning slowly while the needle lay trapped in a groove. He lifted the arm and placed it back at the edge of the album and waited for the music to resume. He hummed softly to himself as the speakers came to life with the sound of the music. “ahhhhh, nice.” He moved unsteadily back to the center of the room and looked over the room with a critical eye.

A single wine glass sat on the table near the vase of purple blooms, the wine bottle missing, and he scanned the room trying to remember where he had left it. He raised his hand and the bottle popped into his view. “Oh, whoops.” He moved to the table and put the now empty bottle down. Hearing the hollow sound it made as it made contact with the table he went to the refrigerator and removed one of the red wines he had left there to chill. He placed it on the table and threw out the empty bottle, then went to find the corkscrew and remove the cork on the new bottle.

Cork removed he poured just a bit of the wine into his glass and moved to the fireplace. He leaned against the mantle and stared at the large clock that decorated the space. He watched the second hand make several trips around the numbers before he heard a sound in the hallway. He stumbled to the door and threw it open just in time to see her. She’d already unlocked her apartment door and was partially through it when he called her name. She turned, surprise clearly showing on her face and then he saw her smile, the smile reaching up to her eyes. He stepped back and made a sweeping gesture in the open doorway, the gesture clearly inviting her inside. She hesitated only a moment and then closing her own apartment door, she moved into his apartment. “It wasn’t every day that the cutest guy in the building invited you to his place.” She thought. She also noticed the soft glow of the candles and fireplace and the soft music playing in the background.

The door thudded closed behind her and she turned in time to see him stumble away from it. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good night to accept an invitation from him, cute or not, this didn’t look good.” She thought as he took a few stumbling steps her way and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

He cleared his throat, “I said, you look lovely tonight and I’d love to pour you a beautiful wine.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, you look beautiful tonight and I’d love to pour you a lovely glass of wine. Argh!”

She laughed and looking just a little bit nervous she moved over to the table and picked up the opened wine and the glass and poured a small amount in and took a tentative sip. “Nice. Thank you.” She eyed the doorway, and feeling like the night was going to be a disaster, he moved close to her and swooping her up he stumbled into the wine tub and began dancing around on the grapes, they splashed up as he came down on them with her wrapped in his arms.

“What are you doing?” She demanded.

“We’re making wine, see the grapes!” Suddenly his foot slipped and he tumbled out of the tub and onto the hardwood floor. Looking up, his head spinning, he saw the most beautiful pair of blue eyes staring frostily at him. This definitely wasn’t working out the way he’d planned.

Evidence Exhibit 3 ”" Chronologically edited www.twitter.com transcript for user jack_et

Jst signed up. wondering wat i hav 2 say. MLIA. Dnt quite know why I hav, but evry1 else seems 2 be on twitter so I guess I should 2
1:03 AM Oct 13th from web

Jst sitting here bored. nothin intersting ever happens here Middleton WI is the pitz!
4:10 AM Oct 13th from web

skool is such a bore! Nothin happens! Need some drama or something to keep me awake at least! Jst had economics test and totes think i flunked it.mom iz gonna be rabid! Wnt tell her till i have 2
11:25 AM Oct 14th from txt

Wish there waz some new peeps here @ skool to make life fun. meh!
12:17 PM Oct 14th from txt

@LauRensDaBest43 Haha nah ur the coolest lauren!...jst wish there waz more ”˜talent’ around if u kno wat i mean :p
08:16 PM Oct 14th from web in reply to LauRensDaBest43

Going 2 granma,s 4 lunch 2moro. god i h8 family get 2gethers. they are all sooo lame
4:10 PM Oct 24th from txt

OMG! i jst saw heaven right outside da window!! or at least an angel!!! perfection on 2 legs!
2:44 PM Oct 25th from txt

well can’t see actually c the legs but cos da rest is jst divine they will be 2 i jst no it!!
2:46 PM Oct 25th from txt

As xpected the legz r 2! gotta keep out of sight don’t want angel 2 c me staring..cant stop myself tho!
2:51 PM Oct 25th from txt

that hair, that body those eyes!!! OMG!! spotted!!!! gotta hide omfg so embarrassed!
2:55 PM Oct 25th from txt

omg, that was soooo close! sneaky peakys @ da angels bod..mmmm...nom-nomable. wanna get my hands on it :p
3:02 PM Oct 25th from txt

@LauRensDaBest43 I KNOW!! Ud b even more jelous if u cud c! fill u in @ skool 2moro!
10:37 PM Oct 25th from web in reply to LauRensDaBest43

Im startin 2 wonder who my angel is? Havnt seen them in skool or anywhere, new person in town? Life is looking up, specially as they seem 2 live next 2 granma
2:43 AM Nov 2nd from web

Looks like I will b visiting granma more often from now on, maybe every day lol. Granma won’t know what’s got in2 me, n I cant tell her LOL!!
2:44 AM Nov 2nd from web

my angel has a name!..BUT not sharing coz tha will jinx it! Now jst hav 2 wait 4 right time 2 meet properly n then i know we will be soulmates 4eva
9:13 AM Nov 3rd from txt

OMFG! New face is class is MY ANGEL!!!! OMG wot am i going to do if i’m recognised as the starer!? that would b sooooo bad! i wanna run and hide but i cant!!
9:58 AM Nov 3rd from txt

Ahhhhh guess who jst smiled @ me at recess!!! im all twitchy. am i caught as the starer? Dont know, don’t care, its all going 2 b gud when they realise we r ment 4 each other!
11:19 AM Nov 3rd from txt

@LauRensDaBest43 Haha whatevs! :p At least u kno I wasn’t makin it up when I said perfection on 2 legz!
12:50 PM Nov 3rd from web in reply to LauRensDaBest43

We talked!!!! Im in heaven and it will be 4 eva n eva!!!!! Totally did spot me starin n doesnt even care! 2day is the first day of 4eva 2getha me and my angel!
4:06 PM Nov 3rd from txt

OMGOMGOMG we have a DATE!! TONITE!!!!!! My angle and me r going on a d8!!!!
1:31 AM Nov 21st from web

@LauRensDaBest43 I’ll update u on everythng afterwards I promise! Well maybe nt eeeevrything :p :p :P
3:45 PM Nov 21st from web

Last night = Best. Night. EVER!!...MLIG
11:03 AM Nov 22nd from txt

angel kissed me tonight! I mean REALLY kissed me!!!! OMGOMGOMG it was so wonfderful we r meeting again this afternoon i cant wait to feel those lips again
4:48 AM Nov 23rd from web

Taylor Swift on repeat...its a love story baby jst saaaaaaay yes
2:01 AM Nov 24th from web

@wheresthecentsinthat omg thts so embarrassing u joined twitter! Haha u better not be going back n reading my tweets about u! :p We were jst meant 2 b 2gether from the start obviously!! x
11:58 PM Nov 25th from web in reply to wheresthecentsinthat

Edward or Jacob? How about Team wheresthecentsinthat :p
09:14 PM Nov 26th from web

Ugh. Why cant life be easy? Wait no why cant LOVE be easy?
05:48 PM Nov 27th from txt

@wheresthecentsinthat Y r u so mean 2 me????? U know I love u bt you say such horrible things!!! IHATE U!!!!
10:37 PM Nov 27th from txt

@wheresthecentsinthat NO I DON”T.. I DONT HATE YOU!!!!! xoxox pls don’t be nasty im sorry i said that 2 u i don’t mean it. were ment 2 b 2getha an i luv u luv u luv u my angel pleeeeeeeease
10:41 PM Nov 27th from txt

@wheresthecentsinthat Why r u so mean? We r ment 4 each other but u treat me like DIRT!!! Like i’m a joke u have with the other peeps that i’m not one of. Must talk 2 u 2day again!
10:53 AM Nov 29th from txt in reply to wheresthecentsinthat

Im competing for attention with a toolbox. FML
1:07 PM Nov 29th from txt

@wheresthecentsinthat OMG u r MARRIED to that hammer! I can’t get a word in over the bangbangbanging!! Y r u ignoring me???? wot have i done wrong xcept luv u????
3:28 PM Nov 29th from txt

@wheresthecentsinthat u think your pretty good with a hammer don’t u? I wonder how good ud look WITH IT BURIED IN TEH BACK OF YOUR HEAD!!!!!! I hate u SO MUCH!!!
3:36 PM Nov 29th from txt

@LauRensDaBest43 OMFG Lauren...Call me..I’ve stuffed up BIGTIME
5:57 PM Nov 29th from txt

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