Rafe leaned over his chocolate milkshake, voice low. "It's all a conspiracy, you know."

Shara's expression blanked out, and she looked at me, hands freezing around her paper-cupped latte.

I shrugged. This was Rafe. According to him, there were not one, two, but seven conspirators in the JFK assassination, the world was made of tiny elephant-shaped particles in lieu of atoms, and - my personal favorite - Steve Jobs and the Google crew were teaming up to overthrow the government. "What is?" I said.

"Your parents being out of town so much, travelling around the world. They're spies." He calmly adjusted his black beanie. Edges of tin foil poked from the hem, and he tucked them back in.

"I thought that too, when I was seven." I said this in a matter-of-fact tone. Not that a patronizing tone would offend Rafe. Nothing offended Rafe. He'd been called a nut, looney, maniac, oddball, and loser. All the names bounced off him like tennis balls, probably scared senseless by his grin.

He leaned back in his wrought-iron chair and winked. "Trust me, sugar. You'll see the light one day."

I sighed. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"I have a name."

"Meh. I like Sugar better than Emily." Rafe tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Yup. Sugar."

"Geeze, cut it out." I couldn't say it with much irritation. Mostly because I liked the nickname the same way I liked peppermint mochas - far too much. I mean, Rafe was mind-meltingly droolingly heart-beating-like-a-helicopter gorgeous. Lanky limbs, caffe latte skin, soulful brown eyes, swishy black hair, a face of subtle angles, and a smile that made girls swoon, until they realized it was...well, Rafe. He thought the Titanic was an early German U-boat attack, for heaven's sake. Did I like him? As a friend. Did I want to like him as something more? Yes, if he weren't batcrap crazy.

Rafe took a languid sip from his milkshake. "I only do it because of the irony."

I wadded a napkin and threw it at him. It nicked his left ear before falling to the ground. "Okay, Quixote." That was my retaliatory nickname for him. Pretty darn fitting, too. I checked my watch, did a double-take, and pushed my chair back so fast the legs scraped the concrete. "Holy crap, it's almost five."

"Erk." Shara winced at her sound of dismay, and started sweeping a collection of pink Post-it notes, sharpies, and notebooks into her purse. I don't know how it all fit. Rafe theorized she mugged Mary Poppins.

He took another long draw of milkshake, watching Shara and I clean up our studying supplies, none of which we'd actually touched in the last hour, except to re-enact a particularly good play in yesterday's soccer game. "You're actually going to class?"

"Yeah," I said, shoving my laptop into my backpack. "You should too. For once."

He lifted his shoulders enigmatically. "I do alright without."

Truth was, he had a better grade than I did, and I worked my butt off in that class. I sighed. Cute, ridiculously smart, and completely insane. I always fell for the impossible cases. My phone buzzed, and I snatched it off the table. "Huh. Thought Mom and Dad were still on the plane to Beijing." I aimed a finger at Rafe, who raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "Don't even start." I flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Emily, where are you right now?"

I frowned. At first, I thought my mother sounded controlled and angry, voice tight like a rubber band. "Heading over to Psych. What's up? I thought you were still-"

"You need to get out of town, now."

Rafe leaned in, mirth dropping from his face. I tried to glare at him, but that failed when I recognized the exact emotion in my mother's voice.

It was fear.

"Okay," I said. I slung my backpack over my shoulders. "What's going on?"

She released a breath. "There's a lot I can't go into right now, but you're in danger, and you need to run."

Across the table, Shara tilted her head. I shrugged, shaking my head. "That's pretty vague."

Rafe swore under his breath, standing, milkshake tipping sideways on the table. "Fantastic."

"Is that Rafe?" said my mother.

"Yeah," I said. "Look, what the heck's-"

"Just tell-"the line went dead.

I stood immobile, phone in my head. "Mom?"

The bell on the front door jingled, and two men entered. They looked like a couple young professionals in business casual attire, stopping in for coffee after work, except for the way they moved. The dark-haired one got in line to order, and the blond walked our way, casually. Something about it seemed rehearsed, like they'd done this a million times.

Rafe took my hand in his, and started walking toward the side door to the patio. "Come on."

I followed, bewildered. "What's-"

"You too, Shara. Leave the notebook, it doesn't matter right now." He dropped my hand and settled an arm over my shoulders as Shara trotted to catch up. "Don't look back, just keep walking. We just have to get to the car."

My breath lodged in my throat. I looked at Rafe as he pushed the door open with one hand. He looked no different for a moment, smiling like a loon, but his gaze was both a million miles away and assessing every detail of our surroundings. "You weren't kidding about-"

"No," he said. "Sometimes the windmills really do come alive, Sugar."

______________

Sorry. No real ending here, and this is not my best writing by any stretch, just a bit of a creative exercise.

Wow.

Sorry, y'all. I have been super-spotty with my blog reading and updating. It's the college life - 16 credit hours on top of track, which easily occupies the space another class would, homework and all. So basically, I'm taking a very full load, and yet somehow finding time to write these happy little poems. That time is usually past midnight, when I should definitely be in bed, but those stupid things called emotions keep me up.

The bad news: I have realized I am about six feet in over my head, and have an insane amount of homework.

The good news: I'm emotionally stable, and therefore able to (mostly) logically deal with it.

The best news: It's Friday. As soon as I'm done with the workout of death (to which I am headed in exactly three minutes), I have nothing else scheduled for the weekend except a birthday party and church. Happy days. The unscheduled time, though, really is scheduled. Homework is a demanding taskmaster.

Hasta luego...

*deep breath*

Wowza. It's been a long last seven days. The good news is, things are looking up for my friend (and consequently me)...AND I FINISHED THE THREE HOUR TAKE HOME SHAKESPEARE TEST OF DEATH!!!!!!!!!! Can't you tell I'm excited? I never use all caps and that many exclamation marks. The deal is, I've gone to bed very late...or early, actually over the last four days. A sampling: 2 o'clock. 1 o'clock. 3 o'clock. Almost 5 o'clock. And last night was early - 12:30. A few months ago, I'd call 12:30 late, and anyone who stayed up past 1 that many days in a row absolutely crazy.

Well, crazy life = crazy sleep schedule.

More finals today...and a Shakespeare PowerPoint presentation. Blah. After I eat lunch. Hold on, did I eat breakfast? No, actually. A couple handfuls of Chex mix. I haven't been eating enough the past few days, and definitely too much sugar. I would have thought if I were to gain weight at any point, it would be finals week, but amazingly, despite not being able to run due to an injured hamstring (GRR), I may actually lose weight. Not like I need to or am concerned about it, I just find it odd.

Off to lunch...and tests...

A Bipolar Day

No, I am not bipolar. The day has been bipolar. I woke up and did the first track workout of the season in 60 degree weather. Yes, I did say 60 degree weather. Winter in Houston sucks. So, I had my customary breathing issues as I do when it gets above 60. It could have been worse, but after the wonderful cool spell (of a single week), I was disappointed. At least it's supposed to get coldish again for the time trial on Friday.

I have two PowerPoint presentations coming up. One is Shakespeare, due originally tomorrow, but got bumped to Tuesday, Thank you Lord (I mean that sincerely). One of them I have been jittery about for three days now, and am steadily descending into the dark pit of nerves. Gah. I'm presenting in front of the other group (the Honors classes are split into two sections) because my partner is in that group. I don't know everyone in that group and -

Oh, how convenient. What would come up on iTunes right now but Disturbia. How perfect. Ha.

Anyway, then The Democrat is in that section. He's notorious for asking somewhat pointless but difficult to answer questions. And, also in that section is The B-

Whoops. Almost let that one slip. Classified information, you know. That would have been Very, Very Bad. I'm rambling now. Back to the point! I'm so-so at PowerPoint presentations. Really, I just sound stilted. I don't know - okay, that's a lie, I know darn well why I'm nervous. Which is so stupid. Gah!

The happy part of the bipolar day: I went Christmas shopping. I didn't have a lot of time today, so I employed some extreme hunt-gather-run tactics. Guys are hard to shop for sometimes unless I know what I'm looking for exactly. I found what I wanted (exactly! These items were perfect) for these people.

I even think I nailed the sizes, of which I feel rather proud. One guy isn't much taller than me, and the other...well, I had the remembrance of wearing his sweater to gauge his size, heh heh. Didn't even plan that one. And we were playing 21 questions on Facebook chat a few days ago, and the subject of favorite colors came up. I didn't plan that either. *does Snoopy dance of joy*

Girls, on the other hand, are so easy to shop for. My first go-to: Bath and Body Works. (To any guys who might read this, I'm giving sound advice. Girls, as a rule, like lotion, shower gel, body spray, and lip gloss). That was super-easy. And I found this for my mom (it's an even brighter yellow in real life). It was a solid one-two-knockout hour at the mall. CVS provided me with bags and tissue paper (easier than wrapping paper), and I'm about to go doll up the gifts.

Hasta luego!

My View On Too Much Homework and Living Life

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Theodosia. She found her name absolutely contemptible and very English, like a high lace collar that had been so overstarched it could stand on its own. As the rain fell down gently, she looked from her high window, across the pond to the parking-lot opposite. She saw two or three people huddled beneath their umbrellas, walking quickly to their automobiles and scurrying in. She saw rain dance on the shallow puddles spreading across the cement. She saw a little silver car nip out of the parking lot and a curvy red one glide in, as if they, too, were anxious get get out of the rain. She saw steam rise sullenly from a building far away. She saw a security man in a golf cart buzz through the parking-lot, disappearing between the two apartment buildings. She saw all this happen, while listening to the Allegro Movement from Bach’s Double Concerto.

She wished terribly to be outside, feeling the rain on her face, inhaling the cool breeze that doubtlessly roamed the campus, and wanted nothing more but to press her nose against the window like a small child and continue watching.

But no. She sighed and looked away from the lead sky, rippling with clouds and adventure, and to the book sitting sullenly on her lap. “Lucretius: On The Nature of Things” glowered at her in white and red letters against a black background. How horrible! Would it not be better, she thought, to experience nature and its things, rather than only read about them? Would she not better understand the true sense of rain as she felt wetness trace her face, not by a textbook informing her rain was a three-atom structure, composed of hydrogen and oxygen? Instead of being told the universe was made of the solid and the void, couldn’t she just look at bubble wrap and understand?

Theo huffed, glared at the book, and opened it to chapter four, scanning the overview of the chapter.

Theo blushed a lovely shade of red, much like Heinz 57 or a ripe cherry, coughed twice, and revised her opinion. Perhaps she had been overhasty in her judgment. Some things, it seemed, were better to be read about than to learn about by experience at the current moment in time.