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Sleep is not something that has mercy on you. You toss and turn for the better part of the night, and the little sleep you do get is filled with nightmares mostly involving the Alpha kids exposing you as undyingUmbrage. The nightmares leave you feeling naked and weak with nothing to hide behind but your own ugly face and fragile disposition. What bravado you've gained behind a computer screen comes crumbling to a heap of rubble at your feet and you quiver in fear. This is not how you operate. You operate by manipulating others to do your bidding and to fight your battles. You operate by threatening with words rather than strength, what with your less than impressive physique. Without the anonymity of your username, you feel subjected to the Alpha kids' revenge.

You are outnumbered and outsized in your dreams, depicting yourself as a helpless grub pinned to an examination table while Dirk Strider holds the scalpel. The others loom over you laughing and snickering at how insignificant you are now laying barren and helpless before them. Where has your confidence gone? they jeer. How could we ever have thought a spineless weakling like you could ever have been mysterious? How could we ever have thought someone so pathetically average was ever a threat? Or an equal? You are laughably weak.

Jake whispers in Dirk's ear, eyeing your pathetic appearance and snickering at what he is telling Dirk. Dirk grins and nods in agreement to whatever insult Jake said. This pains you more than anything. You hear the insults hissing in your ear and you know Jake must have said at least one of them to Dirk. Ugly. Pathetic. Weak. Weirdo. Freak. You realize Roxy and Jane are chanting the insults, hissing and eyes flashing dangerously as they egg Dirk on. Their whispers grow louder with every passing second until it's an incoherent white noise that floods your ears. It makes you deaf and the rushing noise seems to press in on you physically. There is only one clear voice above the static. "Now let's see who's really squirming. Come on, uu. No. Wait. Caliborn. Let's play a game…" Dirk says, lowering the scalpel.

You wake up with a choked scream in your throat and covered in sweat, not for the first time that night. Gasping, your eyes dart wildly around the room and land on the clock by your bedside. You've overslept. It's two minutes before you have to leave the house in order to make it to school on time. Where is your worthless sister? What good is she if she can't even wake you up on time? Not that you want to go after last night's embarrassing escapades. Shameful.

Your breathing evens as you make the decision not to go to school today. Instead, you turn over in your bed and burry your face under the blankets. Visions from your restless sleep come back to you now. You clench your teeth and curl in on yourself.

There were other nightmares; some including Dirk belittling you for your embarrassing display of desire for Dirk's courtship. As if he would ever date someone as hideous as you. Not that you want his human courtship. Nope. Not at all. Ew. Gross. Barf. Your behavior last night was clearly a reaction stirred by Dirk's tender artistic talent. It just so happened that the subjects included you and Dirk. It's not your fault Dirk has a way with pornography! And that little heartache you felt when dream-Dirk mocked and rejected you was clearly heartburn. Clearly you are suffering from acid reflux because you feel as though you may vomit. Clearly. There is no other explanation. None.

You are disturbed from your speculations of recent events by what may be the only thing worse than your night terrors: a knock on your door and your sister's grating voice calling from the hallway. "Are you seriously still not up yet? We're going to be late for school! Please get out of bed, brother!"

You grit your teeth harder. Oh, God, you hate her.

Grumbling loudly, you curl up in a ball of defiance and scream, "I AM DYING. I AM TOO SICK FOR YOUR INSISTANCE THAT. I TRAVEL TO THE STUPID DUMB SCHOOL. THERE IS LITTLE STRENGTH IN MY BODY. AND I MUST PRESERVE IT. I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL. FUCK OFF."

You think perhaps you've gained one hell of a migraine when your sister ignores your wishes and the door creaks open. You can feel her presence as she stands next to your bed in silence for a few moments. It feels like judgment. You try to stay optimistic that her silence is out of respect for your desire for rest rather than scrutinizing. Perhaps she senses your distress and knows better than to actually disturb-

Her hand rests on your shoulder.

Oh, fucking heavens almighty in a fuck-bucket! Was it too much to think she would leave you alone?

"I know you're going through some…. things right now," she begins softly, sounding as though she was choosing her words carefully, "But I don't think avoiding… err… school is going to fix your problems. Please come to school with me, brother."

"No," you bite, shrugging off her hand, "I'm sick. I'm staying in bed today and that's the end of that." You throw in some pathetic coughing at the end as an afterthought. You feel as though your argument is foolproof. Genius. There is no way she won't buy it. You mentally nod in approval.

However, when your sister sighs in exasperation and shoves you off your bed, you begin to think maybe she didn't buy it after all. "Brother. Considering our parents are never home and you have the responsibility and manners of a rabid wolverine, it falls on my shoulders to look after you and I will bloody well get you to school whether you like it or not," she says authoritatively, hands on hips and everything.

"Oh, who cares?" you snap, laying facedown on the ground in defiance. "It's not like Lord Dad cares whether or not we go to school. In fact, he'd probably encourage me to stay home. Sick or not."

Your sister rolls her eyes. "Would you stop calling dad 'Lord Dad' when he's not here?" she says, "It's disconcerting even with your bizarre dad complex."

"Look, it's Lord Dad's wishes that we refer to him as 'Lord Dad.' As we should. You know. Because he's awesome," you say with a grin. Lord Dad really is awesome. You're not entirely sure what he does for work that keeps him away all the time, but he's definitely number one on the list of people you want to be. That particular list is shorter than most.

"He's hardly ever here, Caliborn."

"So?"

"It's not like he's going to hear you call him just 'dad' when he's not here."

"Which brings me to my second point!" you say, flailing your arm for emphasis, "Nobody's here. Nobody's the wiser if I stay home today. Suck it."

"You're still going."

"No I'm not."

"I will physically remove you from this house if you don't walk out yourself."

Apparently there is no winning this time around. You'll win one of these days. Mark your words. "Fine. Fine, you horrid wench, I will drag my sick, aching body to school. I hope I become very ill and it will be all your fault. And you will feel guilty. And I will die. And I will haunt you and murder you in your sleep. And it will be all your fault because you wouldn't let me take this one day off to get better," you snap at her, picking yourself up off the floor.

Your sister merely rolls her eyes before leaving your room. Good riddance. You take your sweet ass time packing your bag and tucking in your shirt under your sweater-vest. If your sister is going to drag you kicking and screaming to school today, you may as well make her late. Serves her right. You entertain the thought of taking a shower and eating an extensive breakfast today, but your sister glares at you, tapping her foot. Bah. No time for that, apparently. You suppose some water on your face and a healthy meal of Jujubes and bacon will suffice for your on-the-go morning. You stash that shit in your backpack right quick. It will come in handy later. Oh, yes, it will be so very fucking delicious, but for now you must be on your way.

Shuffling to the front door, you scowl at your sister before she's shoving you out of the house and sprinting to school with your shirt collar in hand. It makes little difference, you think, when you both arrive wheezing when the ground is deserted. Everyone is already in class. That's all well and good – less chance for you to run into one Dirk Strider or his other little friends. No doubt, he's already reined them in to bring you down. He must have recruited their help to try and track you down. That bastard. You'll have to be very careful from now on. This is a very delicate operation.

You hardly notice parting ways with your sister as you begrudgingly drag your feet to your first class tardy. In fact, you hardly notice your entire day at all. Your thoughts are preoccupied on much more serious matters than trigonometry and William What's-It's stupid novel. You find yourself drifting off more often than not. Many times, you unwillingly revisit your nightmares and make your stomach turn with thoughts of what Dirk might do to you if he finds out your identity. Scratch that. You know he's going to find out. You're not saying you "know" Dirk or anything, but you know he's smart – not that you would ever admit that. It won't take him long to figure out who you are after your stupid comment about his gloves; you get the feeling that he'll just know it's you the next time you come in contact with him, like he can simply sense your guilt in one glance. As if he could see right through you. The thought raises gooseflesh on your arms and you rub them absentmindedly.

Though most of your thoughts are obsessive about what may happen in the near future, not all of them are outlining your doom in horrifying detail. Occasionally, you find yourself thinking back to what Dirk was drawing you last night.

You think back to how willing Dirk was to draw you and him together; his replies were instantaneous when you asked him to draw the two of you – oh the thought of it makes your cheeks hot! You feel so scandalous! – touching. Now, considering he was so quick to comply with smut of the two of you, you think it possible that Dirk might have – oh, you can hardly bare to think it! – feelings for you. The grin that breaks out over your face and the quiet, bubbling chuckle out of your throat could not be contained and the teacher reprimands you for disturbing the class, or not paying attention, or some shit. You don't care. Stupid bitch. Back to your thoughts.

Now you feel all sorts of conflicted feelings about your situation and it confuses you.

On one hand, you fear Dirk. You fear him and his muscles. You fear he will beat you to a pulp, but you also fear that he will bully and tease you with his human insults. You've seen the brunt of that attack before. You're not exactly "socially capable" as your sister once said, but you think you handled the situation well enough last time you were bullied. Just because you were caught and expelled doesn't mean you weren't right.

On the other hand, if Dirk is interested in you, you think it not so terrible to be with him and you might see yourself in his arms. Perhaps he'd look at you and start to lean down. You could see yourself excited about what he was proposing. Your heart flutters at the thought. You could see yourself responding and leaning up to his lips to share a ki- No! Stop! There's a third human hand! And that third hand is the fact that, ew, gross, you don't want to… be familiar with a human male! Where are the bitches? You demand more bitches and lots of cotton candy! So very much sugar! You shove a fistful of Jujubes in your mouth in defiance. Yes, that will show fantasy-Dirk to tempt you with his attractive human male wiles.

You feel frustrated as the bell rings for lunch. You know your sister will try to convince you to sit with her, but you will be having none of her fuckery today. She is the last person you want to see. No, wait. Dirk is the last person you want to see. You would rather put up with your windbag sister than have a confrontation with Dirk Strider.

Instead, you beeline your way to the boy's bathroom you regularly frequent. Hardly anyone bothers to use it because of its ridiculous and obnoxious location on the school grounds; it's nowhere near any of the popular hangout spots on campus and the only classrooms near it are reject classrooms for reject students taking reject subjects. Most people have forgotten it even exists. You come here often to avoid your sister, and have spent many lunches sitting on the tile floor, left to your own devices. There are absolutely no interruptions.

This particular lunch, you will devour the last of your sweet, sweet candy and succulent meat substances that you failed to consume during your classes for breakfast. Just as you thought, it is delicious and satisfying, but less so when you finish and you realize you have a full 25 minutes left of lunch with nothing else to do.

Like hell you're going to occupy your thoughts in your free time with the dread and the delusions that have been haunting your mind all day. Class time, you suppose is acceptable if you must entertain your doom. But most definitely not in your free time. Instead, you rummage through your backpack to see what you've stored there for safekeeping. Needless to say you don't find any textbooks in there. Useless, heavy, barf bags that do not deserve your attention.

Moving on, there is a portable chess set you could occupy your time with. You like to practice in your spare time so that you can kick your sister's ass on the checkered stage all. Day. Long. But no, you will have plenty of time for that at your next chess club meeting when you fuck shit up with your brilliant strategies. You're the best in the whole damn club. Which reminds you… you actually have a meeting today after school. Good thing your sister forced you to go to school today. You guess. If your sister's good for anything, that is.

You set the chess set aside with a loving pat. There will be plenty of time to practice later. You continue to dig through your bag. It reeks of bacon. It is delicious.

At the very bottom, you find a plain black book that you take out and examine carefully in your hands. You'd actually forgotten about this. You stole it from your sister's room shortly after you started playing games with Dirk. You figured she wouldn't miss a plain, old, boring, blank sketchbook out of the hundreds in her room. You were struck with the spontaneous need to draw like Dirk and you knew your sister just loooooooooved to draw, so in your bag it went never to be seen again. Until now that, is.

Delicately, you open the sketchbook and stare at its blank pages, just beckoning you to molest it. Grinning from ear to ear, you dig through your bag again until you find a pen and with utmost precision you take the tool in your fist and draw a crooked, scraggly line. Yessss... It is so beautiful. This is like the tender human copulation for you. You draw another, and another. The page is filled with your beautiful artwork – your own self portrait. Now, what a dashing young man that is.

Barely containing your excitement, you almost rip the page out as you hastily turn to a new slate. You claw in your backpack to find more colors to work with. This time, you draw a quite morbid picture depicting your sister impaled by your hand. Yes. Good. This will be anonymously taped to her bedroom door later.

You laugh aloud to yourself as you flip the page to start drawing cotton candy. The Jane human is in such a compromising position with the Roxy human, involving one lap serving as a pillow. You blush at your dirty work. You think Dirk might enjoy your masterpiece and you entertain the thought of showing it to him until you remember that he will destroy you.

Damn these emotions! You've had enough of this!

In a violent rage as you are prone to do, you immediately start stabbing out a picture of Dirk with the most vibrant orange color you could find complete with loud, frustrated screaming on your part. Yes, this will show Dirk you are not a force to be reckoned with! Or, wait… is it a good thing to be reckoned with? You wouldn't know. You don't bother knowing things as stupid as that.

In any case! Page after page, you continue to hash out angry, passionate drawings of Dirk with a slew of colorful words describing just how you feel about Dirk Strider.

"FUCKING IDIOT BOY HUMAN."

"LOOK AT YOU. WITH YOUR STUPID HAIR ALL SPIKEY. AND STUPID."

"INCONSIDERATE. FILTHY WHORE MAN HUMAN."

"I HATE YOU."

"I FUCKING HATE YOU DOWN TO YOUR LAST USELESS FIBER."

"I HATE YOUR SHITTY, ATTRACTIVE FACE."

"FUCKING DICK STRIDER. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

"STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT!"

Enraged by your own drawings of Dirk's blank stare mocking you, you tear out the pages covered in orange lines. You shove a fistful of the paper in your mouth and shred the rest, throwing it up in the air in a fit of rage.

Spitting out the wad of paper in your mouth, you scream, "DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE EARTH HUMAN SCUM!"

The door to your secret bathroom creaks open and you are caught red-handed in your dismemberment of certain artistic expressions of a certain ugly, stupid, gorgeous, cool dork. You freeze mid frenzy with your hands in the air and shreds of your art floating quite anti-climactically down around you, your chest heaving.

Your eyes widen in horror and – in a flash – narrow in disgust.

Jake. Fucking. English.

Oh, loathsome, foul, evil, putrid, hate-vomit, disgustinnnnagkdfllasdkjfa!

You were wrong! This is the last person you want to see right now! You are so overcome with your hatred you cannot even have a coherent thought! Outrageous! Look at him. With his smug little buck teeth – they aren't even sharp! What business do teeth even have being that blunt? – and his stupid, vacant expression. Thinks he's so great in his stupid, dumb cargo shorts that show way too much skin in your most humble and wise opinion. Has the boy no shame? Dammit, cover yourself up, man! What's he got that you don't? What does Dirk even see in this oaf who gives out free peep shows of his man-whore legs to everyone and their mother? Some modesty is in order, you think. It's not like the whole world wants to see Jake English's legs. In fact, you think nobody in their right mind would-

"-lo, old chap?"

"Hnuh?" you respond eloquently after being snapped out of your own thoughts.

"Err," the Jake human laughs awkwardly with that stupid little buck-toothed smile – despicable! – "I was asking if you were all right. I was just walking to my class" – a reject class, for sure! – "and heard some screaming coming from the bathroom. You seemed to be having a fit of some kind, so I asked if you were okay, but you didn't respond, so I was trying to get your attention and.." His eyes drift upward just above your head before darting back down quickly, "Are you alright?"

You follow Jake's gaze and realize your arms are still poised above your head in mid paper-fit. You quickly put those down. How embarrassing! Of all the people to see you in a state of uncontrolled emotion it had to be your rival! No, wait. What? Jake is not your rival – in love or otherwise. The very notion! Your nemesis. No… that's not right either. Your arch enemy? That doesn't seem quite right either. What even is Jake English to you?

"Hellooooo…?"

"YES!" you exclaim unnecessarily loudly, snapping out of your thoughts once again before clearing your throat and starting again in a calmer manner, "I mean… Yes. Yes, I am all right. Nothing to see here. Hahahahhaha. Be on your way, then." Ugh. You make your own skin crawl just talking to this buffoon.

"If you say…" his eyes drift down to your lap, "Is that a sketchbook?"

Damn!

How careless! You left the fucking book open!

"Can I see?" Jake takes a few steps toward you.

You absolutely cannot let the Jake human see! There is cotton candy in there for your and Dirk's eyes only!

"N-!" you try to scream at him, but the book is already in his hands. An ungodly sound escapes your throat caught between a shriek and a roar. How dare he violate your privacy? "No! Get your grubby, filthy hands. Off my art. That. Belongs to me!" You lunge at Jake, attempting to claw the book back in your possession.

The Jake human's arm stretches out and hits you square in the chest. He fists his hand in your shirt and holds you in place. "I just want to have a look-see! All good sport, dear fellow!"

Jake English is touching you. Jake fucking English is fucking touching you. And worse! The bastard is holding you at arms' length like a child! You will bite off his arm for this!

He looks down at the fine piece of art you've created and furrows his brow.

HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS. ABORT MISSION.

You struggle harder now, kicking, clawing and screaming, "GIVE IT BACK. GIVE IT BACK. GIVE IT BACK. I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS." You even manage to sink your teeth in Jake's arm in an attempt to make him let go of you and drop the book. You receive a surprised yelp for your efforts, but soon find yourself crushed face-first on the bathroom tile. Jake's knee is planted firmly on your back and your arms trapped either underneath you or under his elbow. In hindsight, you suppose you really should have thought this through before challenging the school's champion wrestler. Shameful.

"I say, my good man," Jake begins, holding your book in his free hand and still perusing your work without any evidence of exhaustion from fighting you. The nerve! "What is all this hullabaloo I'm looking at?"

…what?

Who's he trying to kid? He can't be serious. He's not that stupid. It's right there in front of his face in perfectly vivid detail! He's got to recognize the very friends he hangs out with every day. Surely he understands that you are so in tune with the Jane and Roxy humans that you are able to draw them perfectly from memory. Surely he's made the connection that this means you have been watching them closely from afar. This alone would be alarming information for any normal, rational person. Even if he wasn't disturbed by this information, surely he knows that someone who watches his friends so closely is obviously the one who Dirk has undoubtedly given the order to seek and punish.

"What trickery is this?" you ask suspiciously, narrowing your eyes up at him from your position on the tile.

"I… what?" The Jake human legitimately looks confused.

"What is the meaning behind your words?"

"I…" Jake's eyes dart to the book and then back to you, "Are we talking about the same thing, mate? I just want to know what this is a picture of." He shows you the picture of Jane and Roxy.

Perhaps he is that stupid.

Having dropped his guard, Jake's grip on you slackens and you gingerly push him off of you with one sharp finger as you right yourself. "Well, isn't it obvious?" you ask frustrated, "Look! It's right there! Enough with your lies."

"I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble…" he squints at the picture, "…making this out."

You snatch the book back in sheer indignation. The nerve of this human! "You either have no eye for fine art or you are a horrible liar," you snap, getting to your feet and straightening your vest. The pathetic Jake human has wrinkled your pants. He will pay for that.

"…If you say so…"

At that moment the bell rang. Thank God.

"Ah, that's my signal to take my leave," Jake says, standing up and brushing off his shorts. He offers his hand. "I'll be seeing you around then?"

You don't take it. It's a trap for sure.

Instead, you glare at the hand. The silence stretches between the two of you as you stare down those five digits.

"Right…" Awkwardly, Jake pulls his hand away, covering his handshake by scratching the back of his head with the same hand he just offered you. Good thing you didn't take it. That hand could've been anywhere.

"Well…" And without knowing what else to say, the Jake human claps his hands together once and retreats like the coward he is. Ha.

You spit after him for good measure.

Still, as you pick up your belongings off the bathroom floor and head to your next class, you can't help but feel suspicious. You can't tell for certain whether or not the Jake human was being sincere in his inability to recognize the candy babes that he calls his friends. It is possible that the Jake human is simply an idiot and there is nothing for you to fear. However, it is also equally possible that the Jake human is actually more cunning than he lets on and has just "played dumb" as they say. This would put you in a false sense of security and the Jake human would be free to plot with Dirk as to how to seek revenge for all the games you made them play.

The crafty bastard!

Ohhhhh… but you are on to Jake English. He can't pull the metaphorical wool over your eyes, oh no. You see what's going on. You see through this ruse. You will be prepared for what the Alpha Kids will throw at you. Perhaps there is time to convince Lord Dad to transfer you to another school… again.

You spend the next two hours in class brainstorming in detail the best way to bring up the proposition of moving to another school, which school you will go to, and what the benefits are for your dad in moving again. You think your plans need a little more work to be convincing enough and you may need to enlist the help of – oh you shudder to think – your sister. After all, moving is the only foolproof plan you have with no repercussions to resolve this situation with the Alpha Kids.

It's a blessing when the bell rings to dismiss school. Well… it's a blessing to not have to sit through another boring ass lecture. However, it is also a curse because shortly after you're dismissed you endure the 10 most adrenaline packed minutes of your young life ducking, darting, and backtracking across campus to your chess club in fear of running into one of four familiar faces. You're proud to say your sneaking is an overwhelming success – if you do say so yourself – and you like to think you've achieved ninja status despite the odd looks you receive.

You can breathe easy as you throw yourself into your usual chair – in the back of the room by the window where you have complete control of the temperature in the room as well as the sole decision of which bugs can and cannot be let in. (You often collect the most hideous bugs to drop down your sister's collar when she's not looking. Ha.) Casually, you glance around the room to pick your prey for your first chess match of the day. It seems the club has started without you – an unforgiveable notion that makes your blood boil seeing as you're obviously the most important member of the club – and people are already locked in matches, paying you no heed.

You frown and bite your lip in agitation as your eyes dart from one chess set to another. Damn! There seem to be no free players left for you to humiliate in a game! The entire spectacle you made of yourself in trying to get to this stupid club unnoticed was entirely for naught! Unacceptable! You're about to get up and storm out in a huff to catch a bus home when it happens.

A figure plops down in front of you.

"Hello, dear Caliborn!"

Oh no.

"I see you left me hanging in the courtyard for the umpteenth time this year during lunch."

Oh, no no no no.

"You know, I thought after I forced you to go to school this morning you made off without me to go home."

Damn it all, why?

"Or perhaps you might have skipped school halfway through behind my back since I didn't see you since this morning."

Calliope.

"But then I remembered! Today is your chess club day!"

You slam your hands down on the table and glare the most menacing daggers you can muster at your sister. "Then you should know that you should've got lost without me!" you bark a bit too loud, "You know I hate having you here in the one place that's meant for me and me alone!"

"Oh, but I love playing chess too, you know," she says, gingerly taking out her own chess set and opening it between the two of you, "And it seems you are without a partner today. I think it would be good for us siblings to take some time to bond over a nice game of chess.

"And besides," she looks up at you with her ugly green eyes through ugly lashes with ugly concern and says, "I've been meaning to talk to you all day, but you didn't meet with me earlier."

You accept her challenge begrudgingly and start setting up your preferred black pieces. You can kick her ass up and down the checkered platform and gloat about it later. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to talk to you."

"But you do now?"

"No!" – damn her! – "I mean I still don't!"

She makes her first move, having possession of the white set. "Fine. Yes, I know you have your reservations for talking with me. But what I have to say is important!"

You scoff and make your own move, folding your arms and slumping back in your chair. "I doubt it."

She brings out her night – she's being quite aggressive this time around. It puts you on edge. "It has to do with Dirk Strider."

You stiffen and feel a little uncomfortable this time. She knows something. But what? You haven't let on anything about being in communication with Dirk or any of the other Alpha humans for that matter. As far as she knows, you ignore the fuck out of them. You proceed cautiously with another pawn. "…what makes you think I have any interest whatsoever in Dirk Strider?"

"Honestly, it was the strangest thing yesterday," she begins, continuing her aggressive maneuvers on the chessboard while you counter every move, "You were acting so odd. A little quieter and moodier than usual, I think. Anyway, I grew really worried last night when you started shoving things around in your room and then immediately pretended it didn't happen."

"I was not-!"

"Shoosh!" she holds up a finger to your lips, which you try to bite, but she pulls away too quickly, "I'm not done. It was stranger still when Dirk Strider messaged me late last night."

Your blood runs cold.

"Excuse me?" you ask weakly.

"I know! I was surprised too! None of them ever message me first!" she says, still concentrating on her chess moves, "He started asking me all these questions, like…"

She pauses as if she doesn't know quite where to start.

"What?" you ask through gritted teeth, "What did he ask?"

"Well… he started out to confirm that I go to the same school as my brother! I've already hinted that I have a brother on the occasions that you put me in a particularly bad mood. I, however, never told them your name or your username. I've also sort of… err… hinted that I go to the same school as Roxy and the rest of them, but I've always refused to tell them who I am. I keep telling them it's a secret."

Suddenly, you feel sick. You've never told Dirk where you go to school or that you even go to school. You don't like where this is going. "Bullshit secret if you ask me," you retort weakly under your breath. She hears you anyway.

Calliope returns the favor with a disapproving frown. "Well, I suppose. You know my reasons."

Reasons being your sister's fucking ugly and she knows it. She doesn't want her precious Alphas to be repulsed by her. She doesn't want to be rejected. You find this abhorrently weak. You hate it and you hate her. But you're impatient with her low self-worth today. "And…?" you press, a bit agitated.

"And then…" she looks a little apologetic, "he wanted to confirm that I am your sister. Specifically. UndyingUmbrage's sister."

Oh, fuck. "You said no, right?" you ask weakly.

Calliope presses her lips together and looks away for a moment. "Well… I was taken off guard because I didn't think he even knew your screen name! Yes, I've hinted that I have a brother, and from the sounds of it you possibly hinted the very same thing about having a sister! I didn't know you even talked to the others. So I said yes. Check."

Oh, fuck. A cold shiver runs down your spine. "No…"

"And then he asked what your name is."

OH, FUCK. "You didn't!" you cry, gripping the table in your agitation.

This can't be happening. This is another nightmare, isn't it?

"No don't be silly!" she says with a chuckle, "I realized at that point that Dirk Strider might be trying to track you down. I could not give away that information so easily. I respect your privacy and your name. We have an agreement to not leak out our private information on the internet for revenge or any other purpose."

No, no, no. This isn't right. Why doesn't she understand the seriousness of this situation?

"But you told them we're related and we go to the same school!" you argue back, your voice rising with every passing second. You can feel your rage threatening to throw you into another fit.

"I didn't give them any more information about you than they know about me. They know what school I go to, I see no harm in confirming that my own brother goes to the very same school. They don't know my name, so I didn't see it fit to tell them yours."

You snap.

"DO YOU NOT REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" you bellow, standing up and flipping the table over between you and your sister in one fell swoop. The pieces clatter loudly and scatter across the room. All eyes are on you now. You can feel them burning in the back of your head.

Your sister looks shocked at first. But her expression softens into something more… apologetic? It doesn't matter. She doesn't grasp how upsetting this is to you. You stare at her for a few long seconds, willing her to sense just how distraught you are. Your muscles are tense with your fists clenched at your side. You're breathing a bit heavy. Your nose twitches through the force of your snarl. Everything is dead silent as you stare down your sister.

"I…" she starts a bit hesitantly.

Before she can get another syllable out, you turn on your heel, grab your backpack and rush out the door, shoving a couple of the silent observers out of your way.

It is official, you think as you half run through the hallways. Dirk definitely knows exactly who you are. He's got all the clues. He knows you think about him. Follow him. Watch him. From your stupid comment about his gloves he knows you're close. He immediately talked to Calliope after you logged off. Why'd you have to tell him you had a sister? Why'd she have to mention it too? She told him you both go to the same school. The very same school he knows she attends with him. He knows you're here too. He would surely be closing in on you now with that information alone. Then there's the incident with Jake in the bathroom. Whether he was playing you for a sucker or really is just dumb it doesn't matter. Even if he just mentions the odd incident in passing, Dirk would surely catch on. Dirk always catches on.

The thought distresses you. You feel panicked. The feeling of the whispered white noise from your dreams envelops you again. You can hardly hear anything. It's too much. There's still hope. One tiny little sliver of hope. You find the thought of Jake secretly having a fully functioning human brain – as limited as that might be – a little hard to swallow even if it might be a small possibility. You want him to be stupid. You need him to be stupid. Stupidity means Jake won't recognize suspicious behavior to relay to Dirk regardless if he understood your Jane and Roxy artwork. It is your very last hope. Perhaps the Jake human didn't mention you at all to Dirk. You clutch this little shred of hope so tightly in your metaphorical clutches that-

You freeze in your tracks as you round a corner of a narrow shortcut that leads you directly to your bus. Dirk Strider and Jake English are standing there. Talking. They glance your way, presumably due to your new presence in an otherwise deserted walkway. Your brain is screaming at you to run, but your legs won't move. You stand there tense and helpless.

You think you see recognition pass over the Jake human's face. He turns back to Dirk, nudging him with his elbow and his head jerks in your direction. He says something. What, you don't know. You can't hear anything except the pounding of your blood in your ears. You can almost make out the whispered insults of your dreams in the rushing of your blood.

That's him.

Isn't he ridiculously average?

Just look at him.

So ugly.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Dirk nods in response, slaps Jake's hand in some code you don't understand. They turn away from each other. Jake, heading further down the path away from you and Dirk…

He turns and faces in your direction. Everything seems to slow down. You hear nothing anymore. Not the blood in your ears or even the sound of Dirk's shoes hitting pavement as he steps forward casually, slowly. Every step he takes is perfect. No single hair blows out of place as he walks, even with the slight breeze. His face is a seamless poker mask.

You can't help but admire how flawless his skin is. He's in no rush, but you are. You can feel terror raking your very being as he makes his way toward you. Your brain is screaming, begging for you to turn and bolt before he gets to you. You can't. You fucking can't move from your spot.

Just as he's within inches of you, you feel your heart race faster. There's a swelling tightness of tension in your chest. You think your heart may have just exploded. As a last-minute reaction, all you can muster is a wince, shutting your eyes tightly and preparing for the worst.

All you feel is Dirk's arm bump lightly against yours in the narrow walkway as he passes you. Scratch that. It wasn't even a bump. It was more of a light graze, but still enough to feel the heat of his body as he walks by.

Time seems to return to normal as you turn surprised to watch Dirk leave. He didn't say anything to you. He didn't even look at you.

Could it be?

Has he really not figured out who you are? Maybe Jake didn't tell him what happened in the bathroom. Maybe he's just dumber than you gave him credit for. Maybe he doesn't know it's you. Maybe he never will.

You're right back where you started. Dirk doesn't even know you exist. You don't quite know how to feel about that.

Your hand comes up to lightly rest where his shoulder touched yours. You can still feel the heat from Dirk. You find yourself grinning something caught between a half-smile and a sneer. What an idiot not to have figured it out by now! Maybe everything can go right back to how it was before.

Description
Sleep is not something that has mercy on you. You toss and turn for the better part of the night, and the little sleep you do get is filled with nightmares mostly involving the Alpha kids exposing you as undyingUmbrage. The nightmares leave you feeling naked and weak with nothing to hide behind but your own ugly face and fragile disposition. What bravado you've gained behind a computer screen comes crumbling to a heap of rubble at your feet and you quiver in fear. This is not how you operate. You operate by manipulating others to do your bidding and to fight your battles. You operate by threatening with words rather than strength, what with your less than impressive physique. Without the anonymity of your username, you feel subjected to the Alpha kids' revenge.

You are outnumbered and outsized in your dreams, depicting yourself as a helpless grub pinned to an examination table while Dirk Strider holds the scalpel. The others loom over you laughing and snickering at how insignificant you are now laying barren and helpless before them. Where has your confidence gone? they jeer. How could we ever have thought a spineless weakling like you could ever have been mysterious? How could we ever have thought someone so pathetically average was ever a threat? Or an equal? You are laughably weak.

Jake whispers in Dirk's ear, eyeing your pathetic appearance and snickering at what he is telling Dirk. Dirk grins and nods in agreement to whatever insult Jake said. This pains you more than anything. You hear the insults hissing in your ear and you know Jake must have said at least one of them to Dirk. Ugly. Pathetic. Weak. Weirdo. Freak. You realize Roxy and Jane are chanting the insults, hissing and eyes flashing dangerously as they egg Dirk on. Their whispers grow louder with every passing second until it's an incoherent white noise that floods your ears. It makes you deaf and the rushing noise seems to press in on you physically. There is only one clear voice above the static. "Now let's see who's really squirming. Come on, uu. No. Wait. Caliborn. Let's play a game…" Dirk says, lowering the scalpel.

You wake up with a choked scream in your throat and covered in sweat, not for the first time that night. Gasping, your eyes dart wildly around the room and land on the clock by your bedside. You've overslept. It's two minutes before you have to leave the house in order to make it to school on time. Where is your worthless sister? What good is she if she can't even wake you up on time? Not that you want to go after last night's embarrassing escapades. Shameful.

Your breathing evens as you make the decision not to go to school today. Instead, you turn over in your bed and burry your face under the blankets. Visions from your restless sleep come back to you now. You clench your teeth and curl in on yourself.

There were other nightmares; some including Dirk belittling you for your embarrassing display of desire for Dirk's courtship. As if he would ever date someone as hideous as you. Not that you want his human courtship. Nope. Not at all. Ew. Gross. Barf. Your behavior last night was clearly a reaction stirred by Dirk's tender artistic talent. It just so happened that the subjects included you and Dirk. It's not your fault Dirk has a way with pornography! And that little heartache you felt when dream-Dirk mocked and rejected you was clearly heartburn. Clearly you are suffering from acid reflux because you feel as though you may vomit. Clearly. There is no other explanation. None.

You are disturbed from your speculations of recent events by what may be the only thing worse than your night terrors: a knock on your door and your sister's grating voice calling from the hallway. "Are you seriously still not up yet? We're going to be late for school! Please get out of bed, brother!"

You grit your teeth harder. Oh, God, you hate her.

Grumbling loudly, you curl up in a ball of defiance and scream, "I AM DYING. I AM TOO SICK FOR YOUR INSISTANCE THAT. I TRAVEL TO THE STUPID DUMB SCHOOL. THERE IS LITTLE STRENGTH IN MY BODY. AND I MUST PRESERVE IT. I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL. FUCK OFF."

You think perhaps you've gained one hell of a migraine when your sister ignores your wishes and the door creaks open. You can feel her presence as she stands next to your bed in silence for a few moments. It feels like judgment. You try to stay optimistic that her silence is out of respect for your desire for rest rather than scrutinizing. Perhaps she senses your distress and knows better than to actually disturb-

Her hand rests on your shoulder.

Oh, fucking heavens almighty in a fuck-bucket! Was it too much to think she would leave you alone?

"I know you're going through some…. things right now," she begins softly, sounding as though she was choosing her words carefully, "But I don't think avoiding… err… school is going to fix your problems. Please come to school with me, brother."

"No," you bite, shrugging off her hand, "I'm sick. I'm staying in bed today and that's the end of that." You throw in some pathetic coughing at the end as an afterthought. You feel as though your argument is foolproof. Genius. There is no way she won't buy it. You mentally nod in approval.

However, when your sister sighs in exasperation and shoves you off your bed, you begin to think maybe she didn't buy it after all. "Brother. Considering our parents are never home and you have the responsibility and manners of a rabid wolverine, it falls on my shoulders to look after you and I will bloody well get you to school whether you like it or not," she says authoritatively, hands on hips and everything.

"Oh, who cares?" you snap, laying facedown on the ground in defiance. "It's not like Lord Dad cares whether or not we go to school. In fact, he'd probably encourage me to stay home. Sick or not."

Your sister rolls her eyes. "Would you stop calling dad 'Lord Dad' when he's not here?" she says, "It's disconcerting even with your bizarre dad complex."

"Look, it's Lord Dad's wishes that we refer to him as 'Lord Dad.' As we should. You know. Because he's awesome," you say with a grin. Lord Dad really is awesome. You're not entirely sure what he does for work that keeps him away all the time, but he's definitely number one on the list of people you want to be. That particular list is shorter than most.

"He's hardly ever here, Caliborn."

"So?"

"It's not like he's going to hear you call him just 'dad' when he's not here."

"Which brings me to my second point!" you say, flailing your arm for emphasis, "Nobody's here. Nobody's the wiser if I stay home today. Suck it."

"You're still going."

"No I'm not."

"I will physically remove you from this house if you don't walk out yourself."

Apparently there is no winning this time around. You'll win one of these days. Mark your words. "Fine. Fine, you horrid wench, I will drag my sick, aching body to school. I hope I become very ill and it will be all your fault. And you will feel guilty. And I will die. And I will haunt you and murder you in your sleep. And it will be all your fault because you wouldn't let me take this one day off to get better," you snap at her, picking yourself up off the floor.

Your sister merely rolls her eyes before leaving your room. Good riddance. You take your sweet ass time packing your bag and tucking in your shirt under your sweater-vest. If your sister is going to drag you kicking and screaming to school today, you may as well make her late. Serves her right. You entertain the thought of taking a shower and eating an extensive breakfast today, but your sister glares at you, tapping her foot. Bah. No time for that, apparently. You suppose some water on your face and a healthy meal of Jujubes and bacon will suffice for your on-the-go morning. You stash that shit in your backpack right quick. It will come in handy later. Oh, yes, it will be so very fucking delicious, but for now you must be on your way.

Shuffling to the front door, you scowl at your sister before she's shoving you out of the house and sprinting to school with your shirt collar in hand. It makes little difference, you think, when you both arrive wheezing when the ground is deserted. Everyone is already in class. That's all well and good – less chance for you to run into one Dirk Strider or his other little friends. No doubt, he's already reined them in to bring you down. He must have recruited their help to try and track you down. That bastard. You'll have to be very careful from now on. This is a very delicate operation.

You hardly notice parting ways with your sister as you begrudgingly drag your feet to your first class tardy. In fact, you hardly notice your entire day at all. Your thoughts are preoccupied on much more serious matters than trigonometry and William What's-It's stupid novel. You find yourself drifting off more often than not. Many times, you unwillingly revisit your nightmares and make your stomach turn with thoughts of what Dirk might do to you if he finds out your identity. Scratch that. You know he's going to find out. You're not saying you "know" Dirk or anything, but you know he's smart – not that you would ever admit that. It won't take him long to figure out who you are after your stupid comment about his gloves; you get the feeling that he'll just know it's you the next time you come in contact with him, like he can simply sense your guilt in one glance. As if he could see right through you. The thought raises gooseflesh on your arms and you rub them absentmindedly.

Though most of your thoughts are obsessive about what may happen in the near future, not all of them are outlining your doom in horrifying detail. Occasionally, you find yourself thinking back to what Dirk was drawing you last night.

You think back to how willing Dirk was to draw you and him together; his replies were instantaneous when you asked him to draw the two of you – oh the thought of it makes your cheeks hot! You feel so scandalous! – touching. Now, considering he was so quick to comply with smut of the two of you, you think it possible that Dirk might have – oh, you can hardly bare to think it! – feelings for you. The grin that breaks out over your face and the quiet, bubbling chuckle out of your throat could not be contained and the teacher reprimands you for disturbing the class, or not paying attention, or some shit. You don't care. Stupid bitch. Back to your thoughts.

Now you feel all sorts of conflicted feelings about your situation and it confuses you.

On one hand, you fear Dirk. You fear him and his muscles. You fear he will beat you to a pulp, but you also fear that he will bully and tease you with his human insults. You've seen the brunt of that attack before. You're not exactly "socially capable" as your sister once said, but you think you handled the situation well enough last time you were bullied. Just because you were caught and expelled doesn't mean you weren't right.

On the other hand, if Dirk is interested in you, you think it not so terrible to be with him and you might see yourself in his arms. Perhaps he'd look at you and start to lean down. You could see yourself excited about what he was proposing. Your heart flutters at the thought. You could see yourself responding and leaning up to his lips to share a ki- No! Stop! There's a third human hand! And that third hand is the fact that, ew, gross, you don't want to… be familiar with a human male! Where are the bitches? You demand more bitches and lots of cotton candy! So very much sugar! You shove a fistful of Jujubes in your mouth in defiance. Yes, that will show fantasy-Dirk to tempt you with his attractive human male wiles.

You feel frustrated as the bell rings for lunch. You know your sister will try to convince you to sit with her, but you will be having none of her fuckery today. She is the last person you want to see. No, wait. Dirk is the last person you want to see. You would rather put up with your windbag sister than have a confrontation with Dirk Strider.

Instead, you beeline your way to the boy's bathroom you regularly frequent. Hardly anyone bothers to use it because of its ridiculous and obnoxious location on the school grounds; it's nowhere near any of the popular hangout spots on campus and the only classrooms near it are reject classrooms for reject students taking reject subjects. Most people have forgotten it even exists. You come here often to avoid your sister, and have spent many lunches sitting on the tile floor, left to your own devices. There are absolutely no interruptions.

This particular lunch, you will devour the last of your sweet, sweet candy and succulent meat substances that you failed to consume during your classes for breakfast. Just as you thought, it is delicious and satisfying, but less so when you finish and you realize you have a full 25 minutes left of lunch with nothing else to do.

Like hell you're going to occupy your thoughts in your free time with the dread and the delusions that have been haunting your mind all day. Class time, you suppose is acceptable if you must entertain your doom. But most definitely not in your free time. Instead, you rummage through your backpack to see what you've stored there for safekeeping. Needless to say you don't find any textbooks in there. Useless, heavy, barf bags that do not deserve your attention.

Moving on, there is a portable chess set you could occupy your time with. You like to practice in your spare time so that you can kick your sister's ass on the checkered stage all. Day. Long. But no, you will have plenty of time for that at your next chess club meeting when you fuck shit up with your brilliant strategies. You're the best in the whole damn club. Which reminds you… you actually have a meeting today after school. Good thing your sister forced you to go to school today. You guess. If your sister's good for anything, that is.

You set the chess set aside with a loving pat. There will be plenty of time to practice later. You continue to dig through your bag. It reeks of bacon. It is delicious.

At the very bottom, you find a plain black book that you take out and examine carefully in your hands. You'd actually forgotten about this. You stole it from your sister's room shortly after you started playing games with Dirk. You figured she wouldn't miss a plain, old, boring, blank sketchbook out of the hundreds in her room. You were struck with the spontaneous need to draw like Dirk and you knew your sister just loooooooooved to draw, so in your bag it went never to be seen again. Until now that, is.

Delicately, you open the sketchbook and stare at its blank pages, just beckoning you to molest it. Grinning from ear to ear, you dig through your bag again until you find a pen and with utmost precision you take the tool in your fist and draw a crooked, scraggly line. Yessss... It is so beautiful. This is like the tender human copulation for you. You draw another, and another. The page is filled with your beautiful artwork – your own self portrait. Now, what a dashing young man that is.

Barely containing your excitement, you almost rip the page out as you hastily turn to a new slate. You claw in your backpack to find more colors to work with. This time, you draw a quite morbid picture depicting your sister impaled by your hand. Yes. Good. This will be anonymously taped to her bedroom door later.

You laugh aloud to yourself as you flip the page to start drawing cotton candy. The Jane human is in such a compromising position with the Roxy human, involving one lap serving as a pillow. You blush at your dirty work. You think Dirk might enjoy your masterpiece and you entertain the thought of showing it to him until you remember that he will destroy you.

Damn these emotions! You've had enough of this!

In a violent rage as you are prone to do, you immediately start stabbing out a picture of Dirk with the most vibrant orange color you could find complete with loud, frustrated screaming on your part. Yes, this will show Dirk you are not a force to be reckoned with! Or, wait… is it a good thing to be reckoned with? You wouldn't know. You don't bother knowing things as stupid as that.

In any case! Page after page, you continue to hash out angry, passionate drawings of Dirk with a slew of colorful words describing just how you feel about Dirk Strider.

"FUCKING IDIOT BOY HUMAN."

"LOOK AT YOU. WITH YOUR STUPID HAIR ALL SPIKEY. AND STUPID."

"INCONSIDERATE. FILTHY WHORE MAN HUMAN."

"I HATE YOU."

"I FUCKING HATE YOU DOWN TO YOUR LAST USELESS FIBER."

"I HATE YOUR SHITTY, ATTRACTIVE FACE."

"FUCKING DICK STRIDER. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

"STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF SHIT!"

Enraged by your own drawings of Dirk's blank stare mocking you, you tear out the pages covered in orange lines. You shove a fistful of the paper in your mouth and shred the rest, throwing it up in the air in a fit of rage.

Spitting out the wad of paper in your mouth, you scream, "DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE EARTH HUMAN SCUM!"

The door to your secret bathroom creaks open and you are caught red-handed in your dismemberment of certain artistic expressions of a certain ugly, stupid, gorgeous, cool dork. You freeze mid frenzy with your hands in the air and shreds of your art floating quite anti-climactically down around you, your chest heaving.

Your eyes widen in horror and – in a flash – narrow in disgust.

Jake. Fucking. English.

Oh, loathsome, foul, evil, putrid, hate-vomit, disgustinnnnagkdfllasdkjfa!

You were wrong! This is the last person you want to see right now! You are so overcome with your hatred you cannot even have a coherent thought! Outrageous! Look at him. With his smug little buck teeth – they aren't even sharp! What business do teeth even have being that blunt? – and his stupid, vacant expression. Thinks he's so great in his stupid, dumb cargo shorts that show way too much skin in your most humble and wise opinion. Has the boy no shame? Dammit, cover yourself up, man! What's he got that you don't? What does Dirk even see in this oaf who gives out free peep shows of his man-whore legs to everyone and their mother? Some modesty is in order, you think. It's not like the whole world wants to see Jake English's legs. In fact, you think nobody in their right mind would-

"-lo, old chap?"

"Hnuh?" you respond eloquently after being snapped out of your own thoughts.

"Err," the Jake human laughs awkwardly with that stupid little buck-toothed smile – despicable! – "I was asking if you were all right. I was just walking to my class" – a reject class, for sure! – "and heard some screaming coming from the bathroom. You seemed to be having a fit of some kind, so I asked if you were okay, but you didn't respond, so I was trying to get your attention and.." His eyes drift upward just above your head before darting back down quickly, "Are you alright?"

You follow Jake's gaze and realize your arms are still poised above your head in mid paper-fit. You quickly put those down. How embarrassing! Of all the people to see you in a state of uncontrolled emotion it had to be your rival! No, wait. What? Jake is not your rival – in love or otherwise. The very notion! Your nemesis. No… that's not right either. Your arch enemy? That doesn't seem quite right either. What even is Jake English to you?

"Hellooooo…?"

"YES!" you exclaim unnecessarily loudly, snapping out of your thoughts once again before clearing your throat and starting again in a calmer manner, "I mean… Yes. Yes, I am all right. Nothing to see here. Hahahahhaha. Be on your way, then." Ugh. You make your own skin crawl just talking to this buffoon.

"If you say…" his eyes drift down to your lap, "Is that a sketchbook?"

Damn!

How careless! You left the fucking book open!

"Can I see?" Jake takes a few steps toward you.

You absolutely cannot let the Jake human see! There is cotton candy in there for your and Dirk's eyes only!

"N-!" you try to scream at him, but the book is already in his hands. An ungodly sound escapes your throat caught between a shriek and a roar. How dare he violate your privacy? "No! Get your grubby, filthy hands. Off my art. That. Belongs to me!" You lunge at Jake, attempting to claw the book back in your possession.

The Jake human's arm stretches out and hits you square in the chest. He fists his hand in your shirt and holds you in place. "I just want to have a look-see! All good sport, dear fellow!"

Jake English is touching you. Jake fucking English is fucking touching you. And worse! The bastard is holding you at arms' length like a child! You will bite off his arm for this!

He looks down at the fine piece of art you've created and furrows his brow.

HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS. ABORT MISSION.

You struggle harder now, kicking, clawing and screaming, "GIVE IT BACK. GIVE IT BACK. GIVE IT BACK. I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS." You even manage to sink your teeth in Jake's arm in an attempt to make him let go of you and drop the book. You receive a surprised yelp for your efforts, but soon find yourself crushed face-first on the bathroom tile. Jake's knee is planted firmly on your back and your arms trapped either underneath you or under his elbow. In hindsight, you suppose you really should have thought this through before challenging the school's champion wrestler. Shameful.

"I say, my good man," Jake begins, holding your book in his free hand and still perusing your work without any evidence of exhaustion from fighting you. The nerve! "What is all this hullabaloo I'm looking at?"

…what?

Who's he trying to kid? He can't be serious. He's not that stupid. It's right there in front of his face in perfectly vivid detail! He's got to recognize the very friends he hangs out with every day. Surely he understands that you are so in tune with the Jane and Roxy humans that you are able to draw them perfectly from memory. Surely he's made the connection that this means you have been watching them closely from afar. This alone would be alarming information for any normal, rational person. Even if he wasn't disturbed by this information, surely he knows that someone who watches his friends so closely is obviously the one who Dirk has undoubtedly given the order to seek and punish.

"What trickery is this?" you ask suspiciously, narrowing your eyes up at him from your position on the tile.

"I… what?" The Jake human legitimately looks confused.

"What is the meaning behind your words?"

"I…" Jake's eyes dart to the book and then back to you, "Are we talking about the same thing, mate? I just want to know what this is a picture of." He shows you the picture of Jane and Roxy.

Perhaps he is that stupid.

Having dropped his guard, Jake's grip on you slackens and you gingerly push him off of you with one sharp finger as you right yourself. "Well, isn't it obvious?" you ask frustrated, "Look! It's right there! Enough with your lies."

"I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble…" he squints at the picture, "…making this out."

You snatch the book back in sheer indignation. The nerve of this human! "You either have no eye for fine art or you are a horrible liar," you snap, getting to your feet and straightening your vest. The pathetic Jake human has wrinkled your pants. He will pay for that.

"…If you say so…"

At that moment the bell rang. Thank God.

"Ah, that's my signal to take my leave," Jake says, standing up and brushing off his shorts. He offers his hand. "I'll be seeing you around then?"

You don't take it. It's a trap for sure.

Instead, you glare at the hand. The silence stretches between the two of you as you stare down those five digits.

"Right…" Awkwardly, Jake pulls his hand away, covering his handshake by scratching the back of his head with the same hand he just offered you. Good thing you didn't take it. That hand could've been anywhere.

"Well…" And without knowing what else to say, the Jake human claps his hands together once and retreats like the coward he is. Ha.

You spit after him for good measure.

Still, as you pick up your belongings off the bathroom floor and head to your next class, you can't help but feel suspicious. You can't tell for certain whether or not the Jake human was being sincere in his inability to recognize the candy babes that he calls his friends. It is possible that the Jake human is simply an idiot and there is nothing for you to fear. However, it is also equally possible that the Jake human is actually more cunning than he lets on and has just "played dumb" as they say. This would put you in a false sense of security and the Jake human would be free to plot with Dirk as to how to seek revenge for all the games you made them play.

The crafty bastard!

Ohhhhh… but you are on to Jake English. He can't pull the metaphorical wool over your eyes, oh no. You see what's going on. You see through this ruse. You will be prepared for what the Alpha Kids will throw at you. Perhaps there is time to convince Lord Dad to transfer you to another school… again.

You spend the next two hours in class brainstorming in detail the best way to bring up the proposition of moving to another school, which school you will go to, and what the benefits are for your dad in moving again. You think your plans need a little more work to be convincing enough and you may need to enlist the help of – oh you shudder to think – your sister. After all, moving is the only foolproof plan you have with no repercussions to resolve this situation with the Alpha Kids.

It's a blessing when the bell rings to dismiss school. Well… it's a blessing to not have to sit through another boring ass lecture. However, it is also a curse because shortly after you're dismissed you endure the 10 most adrenaline packed minutes of your young life ducking, darting, and backtracking across campus to your chess club in fear of running into one of four familiar faces. You're proud to say your sneaking is an overwhelming success – if you do say so yourself – and you like to think you've achieved ninja status despite the odd looks you receive.

You can breathe easy as you throw yourself into your usual chair – in the back of the room by the window where you have complete control of the temperature in the room as well as the sole decision of which bugs can and cannot be let in. (You often collect the most hideous bugs to drop down your sister's collar when she's not looking. Ha.) Casually, you glance around the room to pick your prey for your first chess match of the day. It seems the club has started without you – an unforgiveable notion that makes your blood boil seeing as you're obviously the most important member of the club – and people are already locked in matches, paying you no heed.

You frown and bite your lip in agitation as your eyes dart from one chess set to another. Damn! There seem to be no free players left for you to humiliate in a game! The entire spectacle you made of yourself in trying to get to this stupid club unnoticed was entirely for naught! Unacceptable! You're about to get up and storm out in a huff to catch a bus home when it happens.

A figure plops down in front of you.

"Hello, dear Caliborn!"

Oh no.

"I see you left me hanging in the courtyard for the umpteenth time this year during lunch."

Oh, no no no no.

"You know, I thought after I forced you to go to school this morning you made off without me to go home."

Damn it all, why?

"Or perhaps you might have skipped school halfway through behind my back since I didn't see you since this morning."

Calliope.

"But then I remembered! Today is your chess club day!"

You slam your hands down on the table and glare the most menacing daggers you can muster at your sister. "Then you should know that you should've got lost without me!" you bark a bit too loud, "You know I hate having you here in the one place that's meant for me and me alone!"

"Oh, but I love playing chess too, you know," she says, gingerly taking out her own chess set and opening it between the two of you, "And it seems you are without a partner today. I think it would be good for us siblings to take some time to bond over a nice game of chess.

"And besides," she looks up at you with her ugly green eyes through ugly lashes with ugly concern and says, "I've been meaning to talk to you all day, but you didn't meet with me earlier."

You accept her challenge begrudgingly and start setting up your preferred black pieces. You can kick her ass up and down the checkered platform and gloat about it later. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to talk to you."

"But you do now?"

"No!" – damn her! – "I mean I still don't!"

She makes her first move, having possession of the white set. "Fine. Yes, I know you have your reservations for talking with me. But what I have to say is important!"

You scoff and make your own move, folding your arms and slumping back in your chair. "I doubt it."

She brings out her night – she's being quite aggressive this time around. It puts you on edge. "It has to do with Dirk Strider."

You stiffen and feel a little uncomfortable this time. She knows something. But what? You haven't let on anything about being in communication with Dirk or any of the other Alpha humans for that matter. As far as she knows, you ignore the fuck out of them. You proceed cautiously with another pawn. "…what makes you think I have any interest whatsoever in Dirk Strider?"

"Honestly, it was the strangest thing yesterday," she begins, continuing her aggressive maneuvers on the chessboard while you counter every move, "You were acting so odd. A little quieter and moodier than usual, I think. Anyway, I grew really worried last night when you started shoving things around in your room and then immediately pretended it didn't happen."

"I was not-!"

"Shoosh!" she holds up a finger to your lips, which you try to bite, but she pulls away too quickly, "I'm not done. It was stranger still when Dirk Strider messaged me late last night."

Your blood runs cold.

"Excuse me?" you ask weakly.

"I know! I was surprised too! None of them ever message me first!" she says, still concentrating on her chess moves, "He started asking me all these questions, like…"

She pauses as if she doesn't know quite where to start.

"What?" you ask through gritted teeth, "What did he ask?"

"Well… he started out to confirm that I go to the same school as my brother! I've already hinted that I have a brother on the occasions that you put me in a particularly bad mood. I, however, never told them your name or your username. I've also sort of… err… hinted that I go to the same school as Roxy and the rest of them, but I've always refused to tell them who I am. I keep telling them it's a secret."

Suddenly, you feel sick. You've never told Dirk where you go to school or that you even go to school. You don't like where this is going. "Bullshit secret if you ask me," you retort weakly under your breath. She hears you anyway.

Calliope returns the favor with a disapproving frown. "Well, I suppose. You know my reasons."

Reasons being your sister's fucking ugly and she knows it. She doesn't want her precious Alphas to be repulsed by her. She doesn't want to be rejected. You find this abhorrently weak. You hate it and you hate her. But you're impatient with her low self-worth today. "And…?" you press, a bit agitated.

"And then…" she looks a little apologetic, "he wanted to confirm that I am your sister. Specifically. UndyingUmbrage's sister."

Oh, fuck. "You said no, right?" you ask weakly.

Calliope presses her lips together and looks away for a moment. "Well… I was taken off guard because I didn't think he even knew your screen name! Yes, I've hinted that I have a brother, and from the sounds of it you possibly hinted the very same thing about having a sister! I didn't know you even talked to the others. So I said yes. Check."

Oh, fuck. A cold shiver runs down your spine. "No…"

"And then he asked what your name is."

OH, FUCK. "You didn't!" you cry, gripping the table in your agitation.

This can't be happening. This is another nightmare, isn't it?

"No don't be silly!" she says with a chuckle, "I realized at that point that Dirk Strider might be trying to track you down. I could not give away that information so easily. I respect your privacy and your name. We have an agreement to not leak out our private information on the internet for revenge or any other purpose."

No, no, no. This isn't right. Why doesn't she understand the seriousness of this situation?

"But you told them we're related and we go to the same school!" you argue back, your voice rising with every passing second. You can feel your rage threatening to throw you into another fit.

"I didn't give them any more information about you than they know about me. They know what school I go to, I see no harm in confirming that my own brother goes to the very same school. They don't know my name, so I didn't see it fit to tell them yours."

You snap.

"DO YOU NOT REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" you bellow, standing up and flipping the table over between you and your sister in one fell swoop. The pieces clatter loudly and scatter across the room. All eyes are on you now. You can feel them burning in the back of your head.

Your sister looks shocked at first. But her expression softens into something more… apologetic? It doesn't matter. She doesn't grasp how upsetting this is to you. You stare at her for a few long seconds, willing her to sense just how distraught you are. Your muscles are tense with your fists clenched at your side. You're breathing a bit heavy. Your nose twitches through the force of your snarl. Everything is dead silent as you stare down your sister.

"I…" she starts a bit hesitantly.

Before she can get another syllable out, you turn on your heel, grab your backpack and rush out the door, shoving a couple of the silent observers out of your way.

It is official, you think as you half run through the hallways. Dirk definitely knows exactly who you are. He's got all the clues. He knows you think about him. Follow him. Watch him. From your stupid comment about his gloves he knows you're close. He immediately talked to Calliope after you logged off. Why'd you have to tell him you had a sister? Why'd she have to mention it too? She told him you both go to the same school. The very same school he knows she attends with him. He knows you're here too. He would surely be closing in on you now with that information alone. Then there's the incident with Jake in the bathroom. Whether he was playing you for a sucker or really is just dumb it doesn't matter. Even if he just mentions the odd incident in passing, Dirk would surely catch on. Dirk always catches on.

The thought distresses you. You feel panicked. The feeling of the whispered white noise from your dreams envelops you again. You can hardly hear anything. It's too much. There's still hope. One tiny little sliver of hope. You find the thought of Jake secretly having a fully functioning human brain – as limited as that might be – a little hard to swallow even if it might be a small possibility. You want him to be stupid. You need him to be stupid. Stupidity means Jake won't recognize suspicious behavior to relay to Dirk regardless if he understood your Jane and Roxy artwork. It is your very last hope. Perhaps the Jake human didn't mention you at all to Dirk. You clutch this little shred of hope so tightly in your metaphorical clutches that-

You freeze in your tracks as you round a corner of a narrow shortcut that leads you directly to your bus. Dirk Strider and Jake English are standing there. Talking. They glance your way, presumably due to your new presence in an otherwise deserted walkway. Your brain is screaming at you to run, but your legs won't move. You stand there tense and helpless.

You think you see recognition pass over the Jake human's face. He turns back to Dirk, nudging him with his elbow and his head jerks in your direction. He says something. What, you don't know. You can't hear anything except the pounding of your blood in your ears. You can almost make out the whispered insults of your dreams in the rushing of your blood.

That's him.

Isn't he ridiculously average?

Just look at him.

So ugly.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Dirk nods in response, slaps Jake's hand in some code you don't understand. They turn away from each other. Jake, heading further down the path away from you and Dirk…

He turns and faces in your direction. Everything seems to slow down. You hear nothing anymore. Not the blood in your ears or even the sound of Dirk's shoes hitting pavement as he steps forward casually, slowly. Every step he takes is perfect. No single hair blows out of place as he walks, even with the slight breeze. His face is a seamless poker mask.

You can't help but admire how flawless his skin is. He's in no rush, but you are. You can feel terror raking your very being as he makes his way toward you. Your brain is screaming, begging for you to turn and bolt before he gets to you. You can't. You fucking can't move from your spot.

Just as he's within inches of you, you feel your heart race faster. There's a swelling tightness of tension in your chest. You think your heart may have just exploded. As a last-minute reaction, all you can muster is a wince, shutting your eyes tightly and preparing for the worst.

All you feel is Dirk's arm bump lightly against yours in the narrow walkway as he passes you. Scratch that. It wasn't even a bump. It was more of a light graze, but still enough to feel the heat of his body as he walks by.

Time seems to return to normal as you turn surprised to watch Dirk leave. He didn't say anything to you. He didn't even look at you.

Could it be?

Has he really not figured out who you are? Maybe Jake didn't tell him what happened in the bathroom. Maybe he's just dumber than you gave him credit for. Maybe he doesn't know it's you. Maybe he never will.

You're right back where you started. Dirk doesn't even know you exist. You don't quite know how to feel about that.

Your hand comes up to lightly rest where his shoulder touched yours. You can still feel the heat from Dirk. You find yourself grinning something caught between a half-smile and a sneer. What an idiot not to have figured it out by now! Maybe everything can go right back to how it was before.