Pencil, Paper and Passion.

Noah and I were ten minutes late in getting back to the house. When I spotted my friends huddled together on the porch, I winced and groaned. “They're going to be so pissed.”

“I'd be pissed too, if I had to sit out in the rain waiting on you.” Noah parked behind Brandt's car and shut off his own. He seemed to debate with himself for a few seconds before rolling down his window and hollering, “Hey, kids! Get your happy asses over here and get the shit out of the trunk!”

“Noah! They're mad enough!” I smacked him in the arm before clamoring out of the car. I hurried to the trunk, just as Noah popped it. Micah and Brandt stepped up beside me and I tried to wave them off as I started grabbing bags, “No, no, I've got it. Get out of the rain.”

Micah smiled at me. “It's fine. If we're going to help eat all this, we should help bring it all in, right?”

“Thanks, Mic.” I grabbed as many bags as I could (honestly, they were full of candy; they weren't that heavy.) and left the six packs of soda for the boys. Charlotte stood on the porch, examining her nails. “Wow, Charles, thanks for all your help!”

She gave me a bored look. “I'm not getting my hair wet. I straightened it this morning.”

“God forbid you wallow in my bed with frizzy hair. It would be a tragedy.” I spared a second of a thought for my own hair, which I'd left down for once, and realized the red curls had indeed frizzed around my head. Sighing, I trudged up the porch steps, laden with the sacks of junk. “Okay, yeah. I know what you mean. I need a hair-tie.”

“You need a professional hairdresser.” Charlotte reached out and grabbed half of the bags I was carrying. “But I won't pester you about it tonight. Let's go have fun.”

Micah came up behind me as Charlotte opened the door and let us all in. “Hey, Eliza, do you want these to go straight up to your room?”

His arms were full of bottled soda and he looked a bit strained under the weight of them. I thought about the sheets I'd put on my bed just that morning and made a split-second decision. “You know what, let's go to the game room. What's the point of it if I don't use it?”

Brandt struggled inside, carrying more bottles (ever the showoff) than Micah. He wheezed a little as he spoke. “I thought we weren't allowed in the game room anymore. That's what you said. We haven't been in there for, what, a year?”

“It has been a year. It has been almost exactly one year since you knocked a flat-screen plasma TV off the wall of my game room and destroyed it. Brandt.” I glared at him for a second, before turning and making my up the staircase. My house was three stories, four if you counted the basement, which I did not, because it was dark and creepy. The first floor held the kitchen, dining room, the sun room, the entryway, a study/library, a “family” living room, and the formal parlor. The second floor held the bedrooms, including Maya's (Noah stayed in a small apartment above the garage, which was separate from the actual house). The third floor, one large, open space, held the game room. In it were all manner of things; home theater, pool, chess, video games, and even a few old-school arcade games, such as pinball and Pac-Man.

I reached the landing on the second floor and turned to see my friends struggling up the steps behind me. Noah stood in the entryway, in front of the closed door, and watched in amusement. I stuck my tongue out at him before turning around and starting up the second flight of stairs, my friends following with groans. After much huffing and puffing, the four of us finally reached the third landing and everybody immediately dropped their burdens in the middle of the room with loud, exaggerated groans.

Brandt punched me weakly in the arm. “Why do you always buy so much shit? I know you've got food in your kitchen.”

“Yeah, Maya approved snacks and juice pouches,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at him.

“Where is Maya, anyway?” Charlotte was already rummaging through the bags.

“I forced her into taking a night off, so she went out with some friends. She really needed it.” I crouched next to Charlotte, searching through the bags myself until I found the movies. “Alright, friends. These are our options. We've got gore, mild creep, lame, maybe actually scary, and a few probably meant to fuck you up mentally. What's it going to be?”

“Mild creep, first.” Brandt dug into the bags until he found the crackers and spray cheese, before he began to drag the bags over to the two couches in front of the entertainment center, situated under a huge (new) flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The entertainment center, a clear, glass affair, held game consoles, the DVD player and what I assumed was some sort of iPod dock. Brandt started dumping the sacks out on the floor. “Start off easy.”

“Then shouldn't we start with something lame?” Charlotte asked around a mouthful of Skittles, flopping down onto a couch.

Micah took a seat next to her and cut in, “No, we should save the lame ones for after the mental fuck ups.”

“Then what's the point? Save those for last, that way we have to think about them while we're trying to sleep.” Brandt stretched out on the floor, and then cracked open the cheese and crackers.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Charlotte nudged Brandt with her foot, none too gently.

I dropped down in front of the entertainment center, cross-legged. “I say we go with gore, get our blood pumping, and then watch a mild creep. We can still make fun of the gore, just like we do with the lame ones.”

“Okay, I'm with Eliza.” Micah stood from the couch. “So, count my vote with hers. I've got to go get my bag from the car. Can I have your keys, Brandt?” He caught the jingling set that Brandt tossed at him before exiting the room at a light jog.

“Booze?” I asked, eying Charlotte and Brandt. When they nodded in confirmation, I dropped the movies and rubbed my hands together. “Yes, good.”

“Why do you want to drink tonight, anyway? You never drink.” Brandt furrowed his brows at me.

“I've had a really fucked up week?” I sent him a sidelong glance, hoping he'd just let the subject drop. When he didn't say anything else, I turned around and grabbed the universal remote control from a shelf on the entertainment center. I used it to turn on the TV and DVD player before turning back around to face my friends. “Votes?”

“I'm with you.” Charlotte said easily, and Brandt nodded in agreement.

“Gore it is.” I plucked up three cases, tossed one back down with a grimace, and then held the other two behind my back. I idly switched the cases back in forth in my hands and waited. As soon as Micah appeared at the top of the steps, I asked, “Left of right?”

“Ah, left.” He set his bag gently on the ground in front of me and knelt beside it. He unzipped it and began pulling out bottles. “Let's see. You weren't specific, so I just grabbed a bunch and hoped for the best.”

I turned around long enough to pop the DVD that Micah had picked in, and then turned back around to inspect the bottles. There were a lot. He had brought the usual party mix (vodka, tequila, and a six pack of beer) along with several bottles of fruity flavored vodka, whiskey, and brandy. I eyed the brandy. “That stuff tastes like soap.”

“No, it doesn't.” He picked up the bottle, grinned, and twisted the cap. Within seconds he'd taken a fairly large gulp, directly from the bottle. “Tastes warm.”

“You're disgusting.” I stood up. “I'm going downstairs to get some glasses. I'm assuming we'll need shot glasses?”

“Yup. I thought we could play a drinking game. Any time somebody jumps, winces, or squeaks, they take a shot.”

“We're all going to die,” I muttered as I jogged down the stairs. I'd actually managed to pick out a few movies with the potential of being terrifying, so at the very least, we'd all be drunk for a week if we played Micah's game.

I made it downstairs and into the kitchen within a few seconds and spotted Noah sitting at the counter, staring glumly down at a frozen pizza. I snickered. “You know, glaring at it is not going to cook it, right?”

He looked at me accusingly. “This is your fault. If you hadn't given Maya the night off, I'd be eating like a king right now.”

“Maya deserved the night off. In fact, she deserves at least a month or two of nights off. But since it took me three hours of assurances that I'd be fine just get her to take this one night, I'll wait on that.” I grabbed a chair from the table and pushed it in front of the stove, using it to stand on and reach the cabinet above. Maya had moved all of the liquor glasses here, after my mother had moved out. I opened it up and reached in, shoving a few crystal lowball glasses out of my way. In the back were about twenty shot glasses, reserved for when my mother had had “company” over. I grabbed four in each hand and lowered them to the counter top before reaching back into the cabinet to grab four of the lowball glasses and set them next to the shot glasses.

I climbed off the chair and put it back where it belonged. On my way to pick up the glasses, I noticed Noah staring at me with narrowed eyes. “What do you want, Kalebrow? I'm not fixing that pizza for you, so you can just-.”

“Why do you need drinking glasses? Are you guys drinking up there?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “None of us are even old enough to buy alcohol, Noah.”

“Your mother probably had some stashed around here.”

“Yes, she did. Maya threw it all out. Well, except for the wine in the basement and the manly drinks in the library.”

“Did you get into that?” He stood from his perch on a bar stool at the counter.

“I wouldn't step foot in the basement if you paid me, so the wine's safe. All those manly drinks taste like soap, so they're safe too.” I turned away from his to stack some of the shot glasses into the lowballs, so they'd be easier to carry. “We're not drinking. We're just feeling a little fancy.”

He stared at me as I gathered up the glasses, and then let out a huff of breath. “You know what? I don't care. If you want to get wasted, go for it. It's not like you don't have a reason.”

I paused. My reason? I just wanted a normal, stupid-rebellious-teen night. Something ordinary in the middle of all the chaos surrounding me. Noah understood this and I finally caught on. He was a bodyguard. He protected people for a living. He was used to being in the center of chaos and he realized that I just needed to forget about it for one night. I picked up the rest of the glasses and turned to leave the room. I paused in the doorway, long enough to say, “If you want, grab a couple more glasses and join us. You won't need the frozen pizza.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, I regretted the invitation. Noah not only ate every single Snickers bar, but he also drank like ten men. Not one of us was sober and our alcohol supply had dwindled down to the tequila and the bottle of brandy that only one person touched. Micah sat at the end of the couch, curled around the bottle and giggling. Brandt was draped across his legs, eyes drooping. Charlotte sat at the other end, nibbling on some of the crackers, hoping to soak up some of the booze.

Noah and me? We sat on the floor, across the coffee table from each other. The bottle of tequila sat in between us. I lifted my full shot glass, closed one eye so I could focus on it and muttered, “What number is this?”

“Seven.” Charlotte said around her cracker. She'd been designated score keeper in the little competition between Noah and me.

“No, it's fourteen.” Noah spoke up, his usually light accent thickened considerably with the aid of the alcohol.

“Seven.”

“Can't be. There's two in my hands this very instant and there has been since we started.”

I giggled, nearly dropping my shot as my whole body shook with the sound. “You're seeing double, Kalebrow. On three?”

He nodded, lifted his hand to stop his head from wobbling any more that was necessary, and then picked up his shot glass. “One... Two... Three!”

We tossed them back and slapped the glasses against the table with twin cracks. I shuddered as the tequila slithered warmly down to my stomach. “Jesus Christ in spandex that is gross. I wish I'd thought to grab salt and limes.”

“Pansy.” Noah said it with affection, just before he laid his head on the table and groaned. “Dio, my head.”

“What, are you done?” I picked up the bottle of tequila and, squinting, clumsily poured two more shots. “You gonna let a light weight like me out drink you, old man?”

“You're not a light weight.” He didn't lift his head from the table, but he did lift a finger to point in my general direction. “You have a... steel stomach. That's the word, right? Steel?”

“Cast iron. The phrase you are looking for is cast iron stomach.” Brandt's eyes popped open on a slurred laugh. “Right? Charles, I'm right, right? Charles?” He untangled himself from Micah's legs to crawl over to Charlotte and curl into her lap.

“I thought you were asleep.” Charlotte didn't try to roust him from her lap; we all knew from experience that Brandt was an extremely affectionate drunk and nothing would stop him from cuddling. “But yeah, you're right.”

“You two done?” Micah spoke up and gestured at me and Noah with his brandy bottle, before taking a drink.

I lifted my shot glass and used my foot to nudge Noah under the coffee table. “Come on, Kalebrow. Number... Eight.”

He muttered another 'dio' under his breath, but lifted his head and his shot. “One...”

“Two...”

“Three!” We said the word and tossed back the tequila in unison. Grimacing, I slapped the glass back onto the table. “Ugh!”

Noah carefully set his glass down, right before he let out a soft giggle. He didn't stop giggling as he sort of slid to floor, face smashed down into the carpet. Turning his head to the side so he could speak, he asked, “How're you still co... cohair... co...”

“Coherent?” I grinned at him. The word had definitely been slurred, but at least I'd been able to pronounce it.

“That's the one. How?”

I snorted. “Do you realize just how Irish I am? Look at me.”

“That's a ster- Fuck. Word?”

“Stereotype? Not in the Sinclair family. We're not alcoholics, but when we do drink, we hold our liquor well. We're very good drunks.” I stood up, wobbled for a few seconds, and then made my way to the empty couch and flopped down onto my back. “I probably won't even have a hangover.”

“Fuck off, kiddo. Fuck right off.” Noah rolled onto his back, groaned and let loose a litany of what I assumed to be Italian curses.

Charlotte spoke up and I realized the crackers must have done their job because she no longer looked green and she could actually speak without jumbling her words together. “It's not just the Sinclairs, though. Her mom's family is Irish too. O'Connell. Apparently, they're just as good at being drunk.”

“I'm blessed, truly.” I giggled and closed my eyes as the ceiling spun above me.

“Why do you think none of us tried to out drink her?” Micah asked, finishing off his brandy and dropping the bottle beside the couch.

“I made a mistake, didn't I?” Noah groaned again. “Fuck it. Just... Somebody get up and turn off the fucking light. I'm going to sleep.”

“The light is off.” I pointed out.

“No, I can see it, clearly. Even with my eyes closed. The light is definitely on.”

I cracked open one eye, noted that the only light in the room came from the TV we'd neglected to turn off and giggled again. “Noah, the light's off. Seriously.”

“Oh god. Is this death? Am I dying?”

My friends and I burst into raucous laughter, which only got louder when Noah shot up from the ground clutching his head and screaming at us in Italian.

I remember him trying to smother Brandt at some point and Brandt, in turn, kicking him in the balls. From there, it got really vague and I had some recollection of playing the arcade games while I finished off the bottle of tequila. After that, I assume we passed out because the next thing I remember was sunlight hitting my eyelids and someone shouting.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

I blinked open my eyes, winced at the shaft of sunlight shining directly in them and tried to roll over. When I landed on the floor, the night came rushing back into my mind, followed by a mild ache. I smiled, thinking that I really would prove to Noah how well I could hold my alcohol. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees and froze. Ben stood in the doorway, holding a stack of paper and looking livid. I scrambled to my feet. “What are you-?”

“What happened last night?” He took a step forward.

I took a step back. “I- Well, we- No, wait. What are you doing here?” I shot a panicked glance towards my friends, and had to linger in astonished amusement. Charlotte was upside down on the couch, with her legs hanging over the back and two cans of spray cheese clutched to her chest. Micah was curled up under the coffee table, cuddling the brandy bottle again. Brandt was sprawled out on the pool table on the other side of the room. Noah was... nowhere to be found. I glanced around the room, searching, but didn't see him anywhere. I shot another glance at Micah and Brandt before turning back to Ben. “You can't be here right now, Ben. They'll-.”

“It doesn't matter!” He shouted the words at me. “It doesn't fucking matter if they know, not anymore, Elizabeth!”

I heard three very distinct moans and felt my chest tighten. I whispered furiously, “Ben, please. Just go wait in the library. I can be down in a-.”

“Christ, aren't you listening to what I'm saying? It's done. There's no point in hiding it anymore.” He'd stopped yelling, but his voice was still louder than normal and I watched in dread as three heads popped up in irritated confusion.

Brandt was the first to speak up, as he drug himself away from the pool table, over to us. “Listen, Gallagher, you're my teacher and all, but I'm gonna have to ask you to shut the fuck up.”

“Seconded.” Micah began crawling from under the coffee table.

Charlotte righted herself on the couch and let out a squeaky, “Oh, no!”

“I'm thirding this motion. Shut the fuck up, teach. It's bad enough that you stepped on me.” A muffled voice sounded and everybody but Ben swung their heads around in search of it. I sucked in a sharp breath when Noah crawled in from the stairwell, on his hands and knees. He made it the couch and then flopped down onto the floor beside it, groaning out, “Somebody switch off the sun and get me a god damn aspirin.”

Everybody stood motionless for a few seconds, and then realization began to dawn on my friends. Brandt narrowed his eyes at Ben. “Wait a second. Why is the Chemistry teacher here?”

I lifted my hand and covered my mouth, holding back a hysterical giggle. Now was definitely not the time to have a bout of insanity. “Uhm...”

Micah focused on the papers in Ben's hand. “Did you come over here to bring us homework or something? That's... messed up, dude.”

“It's not homework.” Ben strode forward and slapped the papers down onto the coffee table. “It's evidence.”

“Evidence...?” I stepped up to the table and picked up a few of the papers. No, not papers. Photographs. Specifically, photographs of Ben and I cuddling and kissing on my front porch, from two days before. I stared at them, transfixed. Where had Ben gotten these? Why? “How did you...?”

“They were sitting in an envelope, in front of my apartment door this morning. With a note.”

I finally lifted my gaze from the photos to lock eyes with him. “What did it say?”

“The same thing yours said. 'Stop digging or you'll have dug your own grave'. They're not very original, are they?” He reached out to take one of the photos from my hands. His lips tightened as he stared down at it.

My own mouth pinched as I looked away from him in guilt. This was my fault. Ben's career was in danger, because of me. If he wasn't involved with a student, none of what was happening around me would ever have affected him. I squeezed my eyes shut. “I'm sorry, Ben.”

“Sorry? What have you got-?”

“I apologize for interrupting, but I'd like an explanation.” Brandt edged in, voice hard and more than a little angry and confused.

I looked at him. “Isn't it sort of obvious at this point?”

“You're actually with him? Like... with him?” Incredulity colored his tone.

“Yes, Ben and I are in a relationship.” I glanced over at Micah, to gauge his expression. A small smirk was playing across his lips and I wondered at it. What could he possibly be smiling about, in this situation?

Apparently, Brandt was wondering the same thing, because he whirled on Micah in a flurry of anger. “What the hell are you grinning about? You can't possibly app-!”

“I figured that this is what was going on.” Micah said simply, leaning over to pick up one of the photos. “You two make a very pretty couple.”

“Wait.” I held up my hands and waved them, to get his attention. “You knew?”

“I went to visit you at the hospital, after you were attacked. Got there just in time to see Mr. Gallagher burst into your room, with a giant purple bear. I heard him shouting, so I just left, figured you two were working something out.” Micah finished his explanation and shrugged, dropping the photo back onto the coffee table.

“But... You never said anything!” He'd known, this entire time, and kept it to himself? Why? Most people would have run to the nearest school official! For what reason would Micah keep something like this a secret, for so long?

“None of my business.”

“I... That's it? You kept it to yourself because it wasn't your business?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged again, before lifting his arms above his head and stretching. “Hey, I'm gonna head out. Mind if I use the bathroom before I go?”

“O-of course not!” I stammered, still trying to make sense of him. He'd kept this to himself... simply because he just didn't care. “But you came with Brandt, right?”

“Yeah, he's leaving too. Right, Brandt?”

“What?” Brand't looked and sounded just as shocked as I felt. He was gaping at Micah. “No! I'm not leaving! They-.”

“- need to talk privately. So, we're leaving. Charlotte too.” Micah gave me a pat on the head before heading out of the room, tossing over his shoulder. “Let's go, guys! Noah, I'm sure Maya's probably back and cooking breakfast. Someone had to let the teacher in, right?”

He disappeared from view and we all listened to his retreating foot steps, going down the stairs. A few seconds later, Charlotte popped up from the couch and grabbed Brandt's arm. “Come on. Micah's right, we should go.”

“But I-!”

“I'll try and explain everything in the car.” She began dragging him from the room.

“You knew about this too?!” He screeched indignantly as Charlotte pulled him down the stairs.

Whatever she said in response, we didn't hear. They were already gone. I started to say something, but Noah cut me off. “So, kiddo, how's the head?”

“What?” My head? My head was spinning, trying to catch up on everything that had happened in the space of three minutes. But that's not what Noah was asking; he wanted to know if I had a hangover. “Oh, my head feels fine. Not even a twinge. Stomach's fine too.”

His eyes narrowed, probably squinting at the sunlight more than he was actually glaring at me. “That's not even fucking right. You're not even legal to drink, and you can hold your own better than most fully grown men. Who the hell thought this up?”

I sighed. “I don't really-.”

“I don't really care. I'm going downstairs to get a coffee and a tranquilizer.” Without another word, he left the room, leaving Ben and me alone together.

Ben surveyed the vast amount of bottles, littered all over the floor, before turning a skeptical gaze on me. “You didn't drink very much, did you?”

“Hm? Oh, no, yeah, I did. More than anybody else, actually.” I turned away, to begin picking up bottles.

“I highly doubt that, but we'll talk about it later.” He reached out and grabbed my arm. “We need to talk about what we're going to do about this.” He gestured at the photos.

I furrowed my brows. “Call off the investigation, of course.”

“Oh? And what happened to the Elizabeth who said she wouldn't run from this anymore?”

“Ben, your career is on the line, here. It's a lot more important than my pride.”

“But it's not more important than your safety. You won't be safe until they're caught, you said that yourself. We can't call off the investigation.”

“We have to! You'll lose your job, if those photos get out!”

“Ah, but they won't.” Ben grinned at me and I leaned away from him, a little wary of how manic it was.

“Ben...”

“They think you're on the verge of figuring this all out. They're hiding something. I don't know what it is, but I've thought about this. They think you stumbled on something you weren't supposed to see or hear, the day you were attacked.”

“But... I really didn't. I remember most of it now and I didn't 'stumble on' anything, I promise you.”

“Oh, I know. But they don't. Whoever they are, they panicked. Why would they panic, Elizabeth?”

The light slowly dawned on me and I repeated his words. “Because they thought I heard or saw something that they don't want anybody to know about.”

“Bingo. You didn't, but they don't know that. It doesn't help that we're actively searching for them and the reason they did it.”

“So, now they're panicking again. Resorting to blackmail.”

“Exactly. But we can use it, Elizabeth.”

“What do you mean?” I stared up at him, noting his excitement. It was nearly tangible and he was practically vibrating from it.

Ben grabbed my face in his hands, planted a kiss against my lips, and then pulled back and grinned at me again. “I've got a plan, baby.”