Phoebe

It always seems to rain at the worst time. Immediately after your heart is broken. When you need to go somewhere fancy and you're all dressed up. When you're stranded somewhere and say, "Can this day possibly get any worse?"

It really makes you wonder if rain is supposed to be depressing or if it just has bad timing and shows up at the wrong time.

It was raining now and I was watching from the window as the water collected in puddles and washed over the Earth. Like always, I was thinking.

It had taken several days to track down and compile the list of girls Kevin had previously dated. The list went all the way back to fourth grade and included twenty-two girls who now harbored ill feelings toward the boy. Beside the name of the girl was the reason why they had broken up. Naturally, nineteen girls had stated Kevin Royce cheated and had broken their hearts. The remaining three declared they realized he was an ass before he cheated and called off the relationship.

I was disturbed. Not because I learned what a man-whore my sister was dating but because of Joey.

Almost immediately after typing and printing the list I had hurried over to Joey's house. There, we sat in the swing on his front porch and small-talked while drinking some delicious lemonade his mother had made. There was not a cloud in sight and a slight breeze now and then eased the ever-present humidity. After some time he finally asked why I had come over.

I ecstatically pulled the list from my bag and handed it over.

He frowned a bit. "Don't you think the girls on this list will hate you after you do whatever it is you're thinking?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I contacted each and every one of those people and asked them if they would consent to being on the list. And obviously they all agreed."

He cleared a lump in his throat loudly. "But don't you think they'll each freak once they see the next girl on the list? This is a pretty extensive record and it might overwhelm them."

"I don't think so. I mean, most of them solely hate Kevin." I fiddled with the frayed ends on my self-created, blue jean shorts then added, "I don't think anyone will complain or be vindictive toward the girl Kevin left them for."

"What do you wish to achieve, Phoebe?"

"Hmm? What do I wish to achieve? Well you know that already, Joey. Kevin's downfall. My sister returning her affection."

His waved his hand and returned the paper. I slipped it back into my bag hastily as if the tension now present in the air would dissipate as soon as the catalyst was gone. But even the smallest thing -- like the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand -- can cause the hugest conflict.

"No. No! Phoebe, what are your dreams? What do you want to be when you grow up? Where do you see yourself in five years? ten? How about twenty years?" he interjected viciously.

"I -- I don't know," I stammered. And I didn't know. Not really.

"You have no clue who you'll marry -- if you'll marry? No wishing to go to a certain college -- to be a certain person? No children? Will you travel to Europe in your lifetime or will you live your life out in this little no-town?"

My legs unfurled; my foot stopped the swing suddenly; I lurched forward and stood. He stared at me and I gazed back.

"I can almost guarantee I won't be here next year. I'll be gone," I said a bit difficultly. For some reason a lump had lodged itself in my throat.

"Gone --gone with the wind. You know, Phoebe, I think Scarlett O'Hara was an idiot. She had everything she could possibly want and it all left her in the end. No parents. No Ashley. No Melanie. No social status. Of course, those couldn't be prevented. Parents are supposed to die first. She didn't really love Ashley and was bound to realize it eventually. Melanie was tragic, of course, but her leaving was purely her own fault; she let personal desires cloud her better judgment. And social status never lured Scarlett anyway. So really, Scarlett should be faulted for pushing her true love away. That was her main problem, I think. She didn't realize until it was too late that she loved Rhett Butler."

His words were all said in a whisper but I could still hear them. I didn't know if I was meant to answer and so I hesitated.

"Yes, well, it was a tragic ending," I finally supplied after a minute of silence. "Scarlett had it coming to her though."

"You should leave now," he growled suddenly. Then, jumping from the swing, he grabbed the glass of lemonade from my hand and entered the house. The door slammed and I was left in silence: even the ever twittering birds had seized their songs.

Walking down the steps, a roll of thunder sounded. And then, it poured.