For Kayt, "because it's friday, and the smoking of dope is customary on fridays."


Friday nights were for parties. They were for borrowing a car, heading to the next town over, and crashing the parties the local kids threw because there was nothing better than messing with a bunch of really fucked up teenagers who would never know if the big metal guy or the kid who froze all the sprinklers in the front lawn were real or just another stop on their psychedelic joyride.

If there was anything better, John hadn't experienced it. Yet.

His liking for-no, his ADDICTION to-Friday nights made his punishment all the harder to bear.

"I'm telling you, it wasn't me! What, am I the only one in this freak parade who can manipulate fire?"

"You are, actually."

Fucking Mr. Summers and his fucking rules. It's not like the bathroom door wasn't replaceable. And it's not like Bobby's cellphone number wasn't already common knowledge. They could have at least let him use a power sander, for God's sake, instead of making him do it by hand. It had taken him all afternoon and well into the evening, and by then his crew had split without him.

Cocksuckers. At least I know they're not getting any, either.

Not even having the rec room to himself was any consolation, so by 9:05pm John Allerdyce found himself in his room. In bed. By himself.


He was already on his feet, lighter at the ready and flame in hand, before he realized that the intruder was small, female and…giggling.

John flipped the lighter shut and extinguished his defense. "Kitty?"

Kitty uncurled herself, still giggling, and looked around the room. "Oh…shit. Sorry." Rising a little unsteadily to her feet, she looked to the ceiling, thought better of herself, and started for the door before John grabbed her arm.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He turned her around to face him, peering at her eyes. "Are you stoned?"

Righteous indignation didn't pack quite the same punch in puffy, bloodshot eyes. "No." A pause, a few breaths, and her poker face shattered into another bout of giggles. "Maybe."

"Jesus, Kitty." Casting an anxious look at the door, John hauled her to the other end of the room farthest from the hall and lowered his voice. "It's not even 10 o'clock. Dr. Grey isn't even in bed yet. What the hell were you thinking?"

"She's not? Oh my god, I didn't even know! She's going to find me in here, isn't she? And I'll get in trouble for being in a boy's dorm and for being high and shit, John, do you think they'll send me home? I don't want to go home!" Panic flared in her eyes, which had gone as wide as they could and darted from point to point like a scared animal.

"She's gonna find you in here if you don't shut up." In response, Kitty pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Let me get this straight-you're high? As in-" Pressing the tip of his index finger to his thumb, John brought them to his lips and inhaled. She nodded. "Where'd you get it?"

"Some guys we ran into the last time I went shopping. They were trying to impress us, you know, and they were kind of cute, and I was totally just going to throw the joint away but I forgot and it was in a baggie in my purse…how old are those chips?" He followed her gaze to the opened bag of chips on his dresser.

"I opened them yesterday. You want some?" Before he could even finished the sentence she had phased through him and snatched the bag up, grasping it to her chest like it was a purse full of money.

"So anyway," she said, words muffled around a mouthful of Salsa Verde Doritos, "I had it, and everyone else went out tonight and I wanted to go but I wanted to finish my essay on Communism first and by the time I was done they had taken off-do you have anything to drink?" Without saying anything John picked up the half empty bottle of Dr. Pepper off his nightstand and handed it to her, and she tilted her head back and chugged it down to the last drop, thumping her chest lightly with her fist and letting out a belch of surprising volume when she was done. "Thanks."

"So you were upstairs getting high by yourself?" She nodded, still mowing through the chips. "Christ, Kitty, that's…pretty fucking sad."

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned around. "If you're just going to make fun of me, I'm going back to my room."

"No, don't…!" At the urgency in his voice, Kitty turned around. "If you go that way you're gonna get caught, and then they're gonna assume that you got it from me because apparently, all I do around here is screw up and I don't need to get in more trouble than I'm already in, okay?"

Still pouting, she plopped down on his bed. "Fine. But as soon as I sober up, I'm out of here."

"I got no problem with that." He spun his desk chair around and sat in it backwards, arms propped on the back and chin resting on his knuckles as he glared at her.

When she had finished consuming the chips, Kitty threw out the empty bag, brushed her hands off on her jeans and lay back on the bed with her hands behind her head and a dreamy expression on her face. "I don't think I've ever been in your room before."

"No reason for you to be in here." He scowled. "Unless, you know, you're on something and phase through the fucking floor."

"Shut up. You're just lucky I've never accidentally done it at a bad time." Her eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar wicked light. "Like, you know, the next time you're singing really badly to that CD you're always listening to."

"I do not."

"You do too. I'm right above you. You keep me up sometimes." She rolled over onto her side and snuggled her face into his pillow. "Mmm. Your sheets smell nice."

The non-sequitur gave him pause, and the combination of girl plus bed short-circuited his brain enough that he let the next few minutes pass without comment. Finally he put together a coherent sentence. "If you ever tell anyone about this," he said, "I will tell everyone that you propositioned me."

Her only response was another snorting giggle.


"I don't know why I don't hang out with you more, John."

"Because you think I'm a prick."

"Oh. Right. But, you know…you're a pretty cute prick."

"Will you just concentrate on getting sober so I can have my bed back?"


"I think I'm good. Do my eyes still look all weird?"

"No, they look better-would you strip down and have sex with me if I asked you to?"

"Well, yeah, but I'd want to make out a little, first."

"You're not good. Lie back down."


It was the sun streaming through the open blinds that woke him up, and the girl in bed next to him that reminded him of why he was confined to a 1 ½ foot strip of mattress. A quick look at the clock showed that it was only a little after six, and he tried to nudge Kitty but settled for hissing her name through his teeth when his hand passed right through her back. "Kitty. Kitty."

"What?" Lazily she lifted her head, looked around, and then dropped her face back down to the pillow. "Crap. You mean it wasn't just a bad dream?"

"Yeah, if only. You should get back up to your room. Bobby likes to come try to talk me into going with him on his morning run."

"Ugh. Fine." She stood up slowly, stretching stiff joints.

He watched her, not being able to keep himself from eyeing her slender form. "You know, I could tell everyone you spent the night with me."

Instead of glaring at him, Kitty smiled. "And if you do? I'm telling everyone you suck in bed."

She phased through the ceiling, leaving him to chuckle to himself.