"Nick!" Lissa exploded, and I looked down when I remembered that that was the name she knew me by.

"Hmm?" I half-said; not feeling like the situation at hand was remotely worth opening my mouth for.

"Just… Forget it," she said, raising a tense arm and then letting it fall to her side.

Maybe that was supposed to sound threatening, maybe it was just frustration, but I knew I'd have to deal with whatever it was sooner or later. Frankly, delaying the inevitable sounded like a lot more fun; dangerous in the sense that it could mean the end of whatever it was Lissa thought we shared, but definitely a lot more fun.

She didn't seem to share my opinion. "Forget all of it."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, and nearly winced when I realized I had failed to keep an impatient tone out of my voice.

"Oh, so now you care?" Lissa shoved me, and I raised an eyebrow as I compared the force to, say, an Eraser's rib-cracking roundhouse. "You are so full of it, Nick Walker."

My eyes flashed and my shoulders went back as I straightened to my full height. I could tell by her involuntary step back that the sudden change was intimidating, but all I did was swing my backpack over one shoulder and walk away, throwing a "If you say so," over my shoulder.

"It's over!" The scream reached my ears, yet another reason for me to keep walking. Sure, my "sooner is safer" policy had just gone belly up, but there was something amusing about that high, desperate sound, and something freeing as well.

"I thought you liked her," a voice said, and I turned my head to see Iggy struggling through the school hallway's milling crowds to reach me.

"I did."

"Did as in past tense?"

"'Did' is a past tense word, yes."

He shrugged, sightless eyes gleaming with potential mischief. "So who's next?"

I pointedly turned my attention back to weaving through the mob.

"You're not ans-" Iggy began, but stopped and he walked headfirst into a fellow, albeit human, student. The kid was tall, almost Ig's height, but what he didn't have in inches he made up for in bulk, and possibly stupidity.

"Watch where you're walking, freak!" he exclaimed, running a hand down his letterman jacket as if brushing away dirt.

"Thanks for the advice," Iggy said dryly, not particularly amused. It was easy to tell that he was embarrassed; he usually didn't make these kinds of mistakes.

"You being smart, freak?" the teen asked, glowering by this point.

"Smarter than you," Iggy replied, and hoped fervently that the hand straying toward his backpack wasn't going for something explosive. Let's not ruin the pretty hallways with scorch marks.

Yet, for some reason Iggy's newfound best bud had to prove the pyromaniac's point. The bulky teen charged, tearing Iggy off the ground in a running tackle of sorts. Being the wonderfully helpful person I am, I grabbed the moron's jacket before he could literally crush our friendly neighborhood bomb maker and pulled back as hard as I could.

Apparently I'd underestimated my strength, or this guy was lighter than he looked, because not only did I prevent him from landing on Iggy, I also threw him back several feet behind me. His ankle made a pleasant crunching noise as it went in a ninety degree angle I'd never seen before. He yelped loudly and didn't even manage not to whimper afterward, his face reminiscent of a wounded, ugly puppy.

"I've seen worse," I commented after kneeling next to where he sat on the tile floor and jiggling his ankle none too gently. I gave it a final, hearty pat and urged him to get better soon before walking away with Iggy.

"Let's go h-" I caught myself. "Back to Anne's house."