Pencil, Paper and Passion.

By seventh period the skies had turned an ominous gray, thunder rumbling threateningly. By seventh period I'd been stared down, whispered about, and 'bumped into' more times than I cared to count. By seventh period the news had spread to everyone in the school; Ryan Laski had been kicked off of the football team and it was all Elizabeth Sinclair's fault.

I made my way to Mr. Gallagher's classroom as people muttered and glared behind my back. I rolled my eyes; they were acting like I'd purposely run over someones dog. Ryan was more at fault than I was. Apparently, while Mr. Gallagher had been escorting Ryan to the principals office, Ryan had tried to punch him. If he hadn't, he'd still be on the football team.

I sighed and, having arrived at Mr. Gallagher's classroom, pushed open the door. Mr. Gallagher's head came up as I stepped inside. He nodded, then went back to the paper he was grading, eyes squinting in concentration. I stared at him for a few seconds, then grinned, setting my things on the desk in the front row. I walked to about five feet in front of the supply closet, then, after a quick look behind me, I bent and tucked, Ninja rolling into the closet.

I peaked from around the door frame and looked at Mr. Gallagher. His head was still bent over the paper and I put a hand to my mouth, stifling a giggle. He's totally oblivious, I thought. I could probably just leave and he wouldn't even notice.

Shaking my head, I put my hand down to push myself to my feet. When I felt a piercing pain shoot up my arm, my eyes widened and I let out a surprised shriek. I quickly lifted my hand and wasn't entirely surprised to find a piece of glass, at least two inches long, embedded into my palm. I stared at it dumbly, not exactly sure what to do, as blood seeped around the edges of the glass.

I lifted my other hand slowly, intending to pull out the glass but someone grabbed my wrist, stopping me. I looked up as Mr. Gallagher knelt beside me, eyes on my hand. "What happened?"

I blinked. "I- I put my hand down and- Ow! Don't poke at it!" I tried to snatch my hand back but Mr. Gallagher held fast. "Stop squirming, Elizabeth. I need to see how deep the glass is."

"But- Ow..." My voice trailed off, into a small whimper of pain as he poked and prodded at the piece of glass. I felt tears well up and I shut my eyes as tight as I could.

"Elizabeth, I need you to stand up." Mr. Gallagher said softly. I didn't move and his voice firmed. "Elizabeth. Stand up."

"But-"

He sighed roughly, then wrapped his fingers around my wrists. He stood up, pulling me with him. He gently urged me from the closet to one of the lab stations in the classroom. Before I could blink, he'd picked me up and set me on the counter top. I watched as he pulled a first-aid kit from a drawer, setting it beside me and opening it. He pulled a pair of tweezers, alcohol wipes and a bandage from the kit and set the bandage and alcohol wipe aside, picking up the tweezers.

Grabbing my hand, he went to work.

"Ow! Stop it!"

"Sit still, Elizabeth!"

"No, I wo- Ow!"

"This would hurt a lot less if you'd-"

"Sadist! OW!"

"Dammit! Quit squirming!"

"You're not su-"

"Shut up and be still!"

"No! OW! Son of a-"

"Aha! Got it!" Mr. Gallagher held up the piece of glass triumphantly. I only glared at him, cradling my hand to my chest. I muttered, "Sadist."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. It couldn't have hurt that bad." He dropped the glass into a trashcan then picked up the alcohol wipe. When he reached for my hand, I resisted. He sighed, holding out his hand. "Elizabeth, I have to clean the cut. It could get infected."

I hesitated before I cautiously placed my hand in his. As soon as the wipe touched the laceration, I hissed but kept my hand in his. Mr. Gallagher hastily cleaned the cut, then wrapped the bandage around my hand. After he'd taped it off, he said cheerfully, "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I stared at him. "Yes, it was. It hurt like a sonofa-"

"Watch your language, Elizabeth."

I huffed but kept my mouth shut. I stayed sitting on the counter as Mr. Gallagher bustled about, throwing away the alcohol wipe and putting the first-aid kit back in the drawer. That done, he looked at me. "Under the circumstances, I don't see any reason for you not to go home, now."

"Yeah." I turned my head to look out of the window. The sky had grown darker and I knew it would be raining before I got home. Sighing, I hopped off of the lab station and went to grab my things. When I had them in hand, I turned to Mr. Gallagher. "Thanks. Sorry I was so difficult."

"It's fine. You were in pain, it's understandable."

"Yeah." I said again. For some reason, I felt terribly depressed. I knew it had a lot to do with the events of the day, but I also wasn't looking forward to spending a stormy night alone, in my big house. I sighed again. "Thanks again, anyway. See you tomorrow, Mr. Gallagher."

"Goodbye, Elizabeth."

I left the room, not looking back. I walked slowly down the deserted hallways, wanting to prolong the time until I had to go home. All too soon, I was standing next to my car, in the parking lot. I pulled my keys from my pocket, intending to unlock the doors, but a flash of white on my windshield caught my eye. A note, I thought. Leaning over, I plucked up the piece of paper and read it out loud, "'You'll roo this day, you bitch.'"

Sighing, I said to myself, "They spelled 'rue' wrong." A breath shuddered out from between my lips. I was scared of Ryan. Like most people in my grade, we'd gone to the same elementary and middle schools and from what I remembered, Ryan was a true sadist.

On the playground, he would pinch the other kids and you could see the pleasure on his face as the children cried in pain. He'd push, hit, bite, and kick, but it was in fifth grade that I'd come to truly fear him. During passing, a student had fallen down the stairs, breaking both a leg and an arm. He claimed that somebody had pushed him, but nobody had seen anything; it looked as though he'd simply tripped. I remember standing with the crowd of onlookers, staring down into the stairwell at the fallen child. Looking up, I noticed Ryan Laski at the head of the stairs, glee and exultation warring on his face. I hadn't understood then, but I was well aware now of what that look of joy meant.

And now, Ryan was pissed at me and there was no telling what he'd do to me. Shivering in the chilly air, I stepped away from the car door to unlock it. It was then that I noticed it.

All four of my tires had been slashed, the knife still embedded in the rear, left tire. I stared in disbelief. How was I supposed to get home? My mother wasn't there, so she couldn't come get me. I didn't want Charlotte and Brandt knowing about this and I didn't have enough cash on me to call a cab. I kicked a tire, just as the skies opened up with a rumble and started pouring. In seconds, I was drenched.

"Goddammit!" I screamed, not caring if anybody heard me, throwing my bag onto the ground. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Shit!"

I kicked the tire again, then did it again. I was still kicking it, screaming expletives, when I heard a voice behind me. "Elizabeth? What the hell are you doing?!"

With my heart in my throat, I whirled, coming face to face with Mr. Gallagher, who was standing under an umbrella. Great, I thought. Now, I have to deal with him.

"Elizabeth?" He repeated.

"What?" I snarled out.

"Are you okay?"

"No!" I yelled, suddenly snapping. "I am not okay! Do I look okay to you?! Huh?!"

He eyed me before asking calmly, "What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" I hissed, balling my hands into fists as water ran in rivulets down my face. When I felt a slight crumpling, I looked down, surprised to see the note still in my fingers. I shoved the wet piece of paper in Mr. Gallagher's direction, shouting, "I woke up late, spilled coffee on my favorite shoes, cut my hand, I'm being threatened, my tires are slashed and I'm cold and wet! How's that for you?! Fuck!"

I twisted back around and kicked the tire over and over again. When I felt arms wrap around me, I screeched, kicking. "Put me down! Put me down, right now!"

My arms were pinned to my sides so I couldn't hit him and he easily deflected the backward kicks I sent his way. Still kicking, I wondered absently what he'd done with his umbrella. I screamed again as Mr. Gallagher carried me across the school parking lot in the soaking rain. I lashed out with my feet once more before subsiding. There was no use fighting if wasn't going to win. To my surprise and outrage, I felt tears threaten and I blinked, trying not to cry.

But, the accumulation of the days horrible events caught up with me and suddenly, I was sobbing. I let my body go limp and just cried; great, heaving wails that tore at my throat. I heard Mr. Gallagher curse and the bawling escalated. "I- I'm s-s-sorry! I d-d-"

"Hush, Elizabeth. You're fine." He said softly. I felt one of his arms unwrap itself from my waist and I noted absently that he'd stopped walking. He opened a car door and I was shoved into a black SUV. With my hands free, I buried my face in them as my crying lessened. I heard the door slam, only to hear another open, then slam shut again. I looked up to see Mr. Gallagher in the drivers seat, turning the key in the ignition. He glanced at me and cursed again, before leaning over to latch my seat-belt. Without bothering to latch his own, he put the SUV in gear and drove from the school parking lot.

"Elizabeth?" His voice was hesitant and quiet, as if he thought I'd break down again at the slightest provocation. I probably would have.

I sniffled. "W-what?"

"What's your address? I need to take you home, so you can change into something dry, okay?"

At his words, I felt more tears well up and I covered my face with my hands again. I didn't want to go home! I'd be alone and it was storming!

"Hey, hey now, stop crying. What'd I do?" Mr. Gallagher asked, sounding panicked.

"N-nothing! I'm s-s-sorry!" I wailed, not even knowing what I was apologizing for. I just knew that I had no intention of going home to my empty house. I took a deep breath, trying to control my tears. "C-could you take me to Charles' house, instead of mine?"

"I would, but I'm sure your mother is wondering where you are, Elizabeth. I think it's best that I take you home."

"No! My mother isn't even there! Nobody is! I don't want to be alone!" I started blubbering again.

"Where's your mother at?"

"T-the Hamptons! Mr. Gallagher, please, don't make me go home!"

"Alright, alright, just, please, stop crying. I can't take it."

"S-sorry." I said again, calming. Yes! I wasn't going to be subjected to empty, echoing rooms!

Mr.Gallagher sighed but didn't say anything, driving in silence. When I started shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to get warm. My mind started fuzzing around the edges and after a while, my shivering stopped. I closed my eyes on a sigh and snuggled down, into the seat.

When the SUV stopped and the engine cut off, my eyes popped open. In a brief moment of clarity, I realized that I'd never given Mr. Gallagher Charlotte's address. I sat up and peered out the window, at a tall apartment building. I frowned, my head whipping around to face Mr. Gallagher. Immediately, I regretted the action as dizziness stole my breath. Groaning, I closed my eyes again and grabbed my head with both hands, willing the spinning to stop.

I felt a cool hand against my forehead and I opened my eyes slowly. Mr. Gallagher was looking at me with a worried expression as he flipped his hand over and held it to my cheek. My moment of clarity had ended and I watched him dazedly. I realized vaguely that something was wrong, but I just couldn't be bothered by it.

"Elizabeth..." He said cautiously. "We've got to get you inside."

I smiled in his general direction. "Okay, Mr. Gallagher. Where are we anyway?"

"Doesn't matter. Come on." He pulled his hand from my face and climbed from the SUV. I watched contentedly as he ran around the hood, through the torrential rainfall. When my door opened, I blinked in surprise. Mr. Gallagher's hands reached in and unlatched my seat belt before he slid one arm under my legs and the other around my shoulders, easily lifting me from the SUV. I smiled; he seemed to understand that I was just too tired to move, let alone walk. I closed my eyes and dropped my head to his shoulder, yawning.

I was exhausted. Everything that had happened was weighing heavily on my shoulders, bringing me down. I lifted a hand to rub my aching eyes and thought absently that I hadn't cried so much since my dad had died.

When the gentle swaying of Mr. Gallagher's arms turned into a slight jostle, I realized we were walking up a flight of stairs. I heard the jingle of keys as the gentle swaying returned and opened one eye, watching as Mr. Gallagher unlocked and opened the door to apartment 2B. When we entered the front room, the eye closed on it's own, not giving me a choice.

After a few more seconds of gentle swaying, I heard the unmistakable rush of water against tile. Suddenly, I was standing in that rush, fully clothed. My eyes flew open. "What the-?"

"You have to get warm." Mr. Gallagher said, tugging at my hoodie. I gasped, batting weakly at his hands. "Stop that! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Elizabeth, stop fighting. You have to get warm or you're going to catch pneumonia. You already have a fever." He resumed tugging on my hoodie until it slid wetly over my head.

He knelt and pulled off my shoes, tossing them near the door of the bathroom we were in, where my hoodie had landed. When he reached for the button on my jeans, I yelped, trying to shuffle backwards in the small shower stall. Mr. Gallagher let out a long suffering sigh. "Elizabeth, I swear to God. Stop being so difficult!"

"I'm not! Excuse me for being unaccustomed to my teachers undressing me!"

"Get used to it!" He reached for my pants again. This time, I was too stunned by his words to do anything and I still felt too foggy headed and exhausted to fight. I looked down at Mr. Gallagher's dark-brown head as he cursed, struggling to pull the wet denim down my legs. When he'd accomplished the task, the jeans landed with wet splat on top of my shoes and hoodie. He stood up and said curtly, "Stay in there for a few minutes."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, as I stood in what I assumed was his shower, in my white cotton bra and panties. He sighed, grabbing my arm and positioning me directly under the warm spray of water coming from the shower head. He hurried from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I stood awkwardly for a few moments before I reached out and turned a handle, turning the shower off. I stepped from the stall and stood in the middle of the bathroom, shivering in the cool air. The door swung open and Mr. Gallagher stepped in, holding a bundle of cloth in one hand. When he saw me, he dropped the cloth bundle on the back of the toilet and started swearing. "Dammit, didn't I tell you to stay in there? How are you supposed to-"

"Mr. Gallagher? Where am I, exactly?" I crossed my arms over my chest, self-conscious of my partially nude state.

"My apartment." He sighed, pulling a towel from a cabinet under the sink and wrapped it around me. "You were quite adamant about not going home and you never gave me Charlotte's address. Plus, you and I both needed warm clothes, immediately."

I looked down and noticed that he'd exchanged his normal slacks and sweater for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. My eyes returned to his face. "Oh."

Mr. Gallagher bent down and grabbed another towel from the cabinet. When he straightened, he dropped the towel on my head then briskly rubbed, drying my hair. When he'd finished, he pulled back and pointed to the cloth bundle. "Put those on. Hang your, uh, [i[things on the towel rack to dry."

I blushed and dropped my head, nodding slightly. A few seconds later, I heard the bathroom door shut again. I reached for the clothes, sighing. I knew I should have been freaking out about being in Mr. Gallagher's bathroom, but I just didn't have the energy.

Slowly, I stripped from my bra and panties and hung them on the towel rack to dry, my face beet red. I unraveled the bundle and discovered a long-sleeved white cotton shirt and grey draw-string, sweat pants. I pulled the shirt over my head and the pants up my legs. The pants were too big, so I pulled on the draw-string tight and attempted to tie it in place, but I couldn't make my fingers work. They kept fumbling, until I gave up and grabbed the waist of the pants, bunching it in my hand. I cautiously left the bathroom and stepped into a white painted hallway.

I followed the hallway for about fifteen steps and entered the living room. Mr. Gallagher sat on a black, leather couch, with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. I cleared my throat and watched his head shoot up, his eyes focusing on me.

I stammered, "I-I couldn't- I mean- W- Will you help me?" I finished, miserably embarrassed.

"With what?" His voice was soft and faintly amused.

With my free hand, I gestured at the bunched pants in the other. Understanding immediately, Mr. Gallagher motioned me to come forward and stand in front of him. I did so and awkwardly stood there as he tied the draw-string tight enough so the pants wouldn't fall off of me. When he was done, I moved away and went to sit in a recliner that matched the couch. Unfortunately, the fogginess that had disappeared during my impromptu shower, was returning and I sat quickly.

Mr. Gallagher looked at me in concern. "Are you okay, Elizabeth?"

I nodded vigorously but regretted doing so when the room started spinning. I closed my eyes on a groan. "No..."

He sighed and I heard him stand up. I felt him pull me from the recliner and lead me somewhere but I didn't open my eyes and I didn't protest. When I was pushed down onto something soft and warm, I did the only thing I could do.

I snuggled in and fell asleep.