Aunt Mary's lecture was brief, but direct: she wouldn't ask what kind of mess Tuesday was caught up in as long as she stayed away from the boy Mary found in her bed.

It was fair enough. Tuesday could live with that commandment; there was no way Mary would know she broke it, as long as she worked on her lying skills. Oh, and never fell asleep on the watch like an idiot.

With the new rule laid out, Mary had gone straight to bed, leaving Tuesday alone to prep herself for school. She couldn't keep her hands from shaking, and decided to forego makeup for the day. She couldn't get her aunt's reaction to Cyrus out of her head. On the one hand, not many people took a liking to him, so it wasn't all that surprising; on the other, it was like she could sense something was off about him.

It was still engrained in Tuesday to immediately push suspicions like those out of sight, out of mind. Under her Christian teachings, she'd been raised to regard anything unearthly, as long as God was not concerned, as false. Back then, she hadn't known just how big the universe was, though. Maybe some people were extra sensitive to the strange and unusual; maybe Mary was one of those people.

Whatever was going on there wasn't Tuesday's greatest concern. As she slung her backpack over one shoulder and started out for school, every part of her begged to go in the other direction. She had no clue where Cyrus had gone, but if she didn't have Mary's wrath to worry about, she'd tear New York apart looking for him.

She just got him back. Why did that have to end so soon?

It was easier to focus on how much she missed Cyrus than the things he'd done. No, those things she carefully filed away for later. Life was complicated enough. What wasn't so easy to push aside, however, were the other stories he'd told Tuesday. Specifically, the ones about Acheron.

How close she'd brushed with death that seemingly innocent morning in Cyrus's kitchen--Lord, how was she supposed to cope with that? How was she supposed to take in the information that a, well, a thing she couldn't really bring herself to name, had wanted to kill basically everyone on the planet?

And to learn Cyrus had killed him--well, that definitely came as a shock. He'd always seemed so attached, so dutiful.

It seemed the general consensus was wrong...people really could change.

The first part of Tuesday's day was uneventful. The classes dragged, and even Shakespeare couldn't lift her spirits. She stammered and stumbled over her lines until the teacher took pity on her and reassigned her role, letting the student beside Tuesday take a turn at being Lady Macbeth.

If she was being honest with herself, the scene had hit a little too close to home; that's what had made it so hard to read. Somewhere during her recitation, her mind wandered from the fictional scene and drifted to real life memories that would best remain in the past.

By the time lunch rolled around, Tuesday was beginning to think she could benefit from another trip down marijuana alley; she figured with how weird she was being, though, that she wouldn't get another chance to hang with Jordan and the others. In case she was wrong, Tuesday skipped her normal appointment in the library to brave the cafeteria.

Talk about sensory overload. About twice as many kids as there were seats were crammed into the space, the sounds of their chatting and jesting rising to a thundering cacophony. Gripping one strap of her bag tightly, she gritted her teeth and forced her way through the crowd. There were no empty spaces and no familiar faces; she was just about to turn back and make a mad dash for the library when she heard her name called over the din.

A few feet away, Jordan was rising from a bench, a bright smile splitting across her face. She motioned Tuesday over, lightly pushing Layla down the bench to make room. Across the table sat Chris and a few other kids she didn't recognize.

"Hey man, how you doing?" Jordan asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over the lunchroom chaos.

Tuesday gave some plastic response and fell into the group's casual banter, even finding herself laughing--and genuinely. For fifteen minutes things went smoothly. She was welcomed easily into the other kids' already established ranks. As it turned out, Jordan was sort of new to the school as well, having just moved to the city a year before. Switching schools senior year was a drastic change they both had in common, and quickly they broke off from the main group and delved into their own discussion.

That is, until Tuesday heard Chris talking about the house fire.

"I don't care what the police say, man," he was saying to the kid beside him. "I knew one of the guys, he was into some whack shit. I wouldn't be surprised if he owed the wrong kinda someone a bunch of money and they came to collect."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Pure speculation and the whims and rumors of teenagers certainly shouldn't hold any weight, but of course Tuesday knew the truth herself. She'd avoided watching the news that morning for a specific purpose and had hoped something like that happening over in Brooklyn wouldn't be interesting enough to hold anyone's attention there...but maybe she had been hoping for too much. This wasn't a normal house fire. She would have thought that if she hadn't seen it for herself--the strangeness of the incident was emphasized by Chris's next words.

"Six of 'em died, all burned to hell and beyond recognition. Can you believe that?"

"If you're right and they were all fucked up, it makes total sense they were too blitzed to make it out of there, dude," another kid argued.

Tuesday shot up from the bench, one hand clutching her stomach like it could contain the nausea. She heard Jordan call her name but ignored her, nearly unable to reach the bathroom quick enough.

Half of the stalls were occupied and a few more girls were crowding the counter, touching up their makeup. Tuesday brushed past them, locking herself in an empty stall and reaching the toilet just in time to purge her lunch. She sat shaking, too out of her mind to contemplate how gross it was that she was now resting her face against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat.

Fuck. That's all she could think. Fuck.

Who was she kidding, when she had told Cyrus they could be normal, that they could be human? It wasn't possible any longer. It wouldn't be right.

A soft knock rapped on her stall. Tuesday saw the tips of Jordan's black sneakers from under the gap in the door. "Hey, girl, you alright in there?"

She wanted to lie; she wanted to stay locked in that stall until lunch ended and everyone went off to their respective classes. Instead, Tuesday unlatched the door with trembling fingers and let it swing open enough to reveal the tears streaming down her face. Thank God she hadn't worn makeup.

Jordan winced, then turned to the girls who were still primping themselves in front of the mirror. "Yo, ladies, think you could give us some privacy?"

They met her eyes in the mirror with various pouts, but something in Jordan's expression must have made them rethink their decision. Muttering to themselves, the girls packed up their things and left.

Jordan sighed and turned back to Tuesday, looking her over for a moment before sliding down to the ground beside her. That one gesture almost made the tears flow again; the floor was probably teeming with ten different diseases, but here this girl was. A nice, normal girl...everything Tuesday wished she could be.

Back in the cafeteria, Jordan had seemed upbeat and energetic. Here, the smile was gone, replaced by a sad grimace. Jordan played with her bangs, brushing them out of her eyes and twisting a few locks around her finger, for a few silent minutes. Then she said, "I know you don't know me all that well yet, but if you want to talk...I'll listen." She paused, biting her lip, then added, "I know how hard it can be to keep it all in. Word of advice: don't."

Tuesday wiped the tears from her face, staring down at her hands and twisting them together. "I appreciate that, really, but..."

"I wouldn't understand?"

When Tuesday met the other girl's eyes, she saw amusement in them.

"Yeah, man," Jordan continued. "I get that. Nothing I haven't said before myself. But I think the truth is, we're always a little less complicated than we'd like to believe. I bet whatever's wrong, I can at least emphasize."

Tuesday stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with a wet hand. Another memory struggled to get her attention, one so old she was surprised to even remember. She could somewhat recall sometime in early elementary school, before Cyrus had been taken out of school, and all her efforts to get him to speak. No one had ever heard him do it before, but no one ever seemed to try. Tuesday had been the only one brave enough to sit beside him at lunch or on the bench at recess when everyone else was playing. Eventually, she'd gotten a few one-word responses from him--and each yes or no was a little victory.

Funny how easy it was, in contrast, to talk to Jordan. Tuesday didn't have to wonder what she was thinking or practically beg for an answer. It was just--easy.

Sighing, she said quietly, "I don't know how to explain it. I've just had a rough--" an unexpected sob interrupted the thought, and she choked over it. "--a rough couple months."

A consoling hand appeared on her back and rubbed slow circles there. Tuesday hadn't even let Aunt Mary really touch her, and at first the contact made her flinch. She relaxed into it after a moment, thinking it was about time she let someone take care of her.

"I feel you," Jordan finally responded. "Lately it feels like I'm going nowhere fast." They fell silent for several minutes until Jordan spoke up again. "Hey, who was that on the phone last night?"

"Oh, that...that was just a friend. He, uh, needed some help."

"Mhmm." That's all Jordan said, and she retracted her hand, picking at her nails.

"What?"

"Nothing. I mean--" Jordan glanced up, eyes uncertain, biting her lip. "I don't know. It's just, I've been the third wheel to two lovebirds long enough to know the difference between friends and, you know, something more."

Tuesday leaned back, not sure how to take that. She looked away, rubbing a finger along the soles of her shoes.

"If I'm crossing a line, tell me to fuck off," Jordan said quickly, voice raising an octave. "It's just, I saw how you looked when you answered the phone. But now you're--" she waved a hand towards Tuesday. "Well, girl, it probably isn't my place to tell you, but I have a feeling whoever he is, he isn't good for you."

Tuesday rose stiffly, shaking the cramps from her limbs, which had gone numb. She paced over to the sink and splashed cold water over her face, not looking up to the mirror where she felt Jordan's eyes on her.

"Right," Jordan muttered. "Definitely not my place. Sorry to, you know, bother you." She walked to the restroom door, pausing there with it half-open. "Maybe we could start over. I'll keep my stupid mouth shut and maybe we could watch a movie or something after school. You game?"

Even though she wanted to be angry, a small smile crept over Tuesday's lips and betrayed her. "I'm game," she relented.