How many times could I say—really and truly—that I was at the top of the world? No regrets, no ill feelings, just endless ecstasy and constant contentedness? I was as close as I'd ever come to being able to make such a declaration.

If there were ever such a cut-out for the perfect high school life, I'd fit right in—no gaps, no cracks. Popularity had hit me as hard as it'd left me, trickling in from two sides: athletics and the Deal or No Deal. I was a man of two crowds, and perfectly happy with that. This probably sounds incredibly cheesy, but there's not much that a high schooler really has under his name; this newfound popularity was next to eternal glory for me. My social life had flipped-turned so much that I felt like some hormonal teenager girl—like my sister or something! Emotional roller coaster, anyone?

You know what, who in the hell cares? I'm doing great, and I'm never gonna be doing anything else!

~*~

"Kherrington!" I heard as I left Chem with Danny and the buds. Today's class had been particularly brutal; if I ever hear the word mole again, I swear I'll blow up into pieces even smaller than Avogadro's number!

I turned around, and Riley, looking more excited than a kid in an amusement park with an all-access-pass, bounded up to me.

"Dude, what's—" I started to ask, wondering what in the hell had got him so hyped up this time. He didn't let me finish, however, just dragged me to the corner of the hall and had me backed up against the wall like we were lovers or something.

"Fuck, man! Back up!" I growled, shoving uselessly at his shoulder. Soccer players aren't known for having great arm strength.

He ignored me, and instead raked his fingers through his hair so hard I was sure there'd be blood under his nails. Riley was often hyper, over-excited, even dramatic—usually about a deal. What can I say, the kid loved his money almost as much as he loved his drugs. However, this trembling ball of elation was so unrecognizable I had to do a double take and be sure that it was indeed still Riley standing in front of me. Or, bouncing, anyway.

"Riley, chill!" I exclaimed, shoving him with both hands this time. I wasn't gonna sit there pinned awkwardly all day waiting for him to calm his ass down.

My partner in crime seemed to gather his surroundings then, and backed away, grinning at me sheepishly. "Sorry, man," he muttered, scraping his nails through his poor scalp again. "It's just that—We have a—Dylan has a—Well, it's coming up really soon and—" he trailed off, beginning to bounce on his toes again.

I grabbed his shoulders and attempted to force his feet to remain flat on the floor; he looked like a freaking jackhammer or something! I leaned in towards his face, definitely too close for comfort, and tried to speak as calmly as I could.

"Riley. What. The fuck. Is up!?"

My friend let out a puff of air, raked his fingers through his hair one last time, and looked up at me with steely resolve.

"We've got a deal. At the dance. Peters wants half profit, but we're looking at at least quadruple digits here."

My heart stopped.

The dance. One of Willow Academy's biggest events. Everybody who was anybody went, and as much as this seems like some sort of Mean Girls quote, we were somebody. A deal at that dance held the key to our imminent success, and it wasn't something you even thought about declining. So, why was I?

Why didn't I share Riley's excitement? I should have been bouncing off the freaking walls right about now! He'd said we would be expecting quadruple digits. Quadruple. Thousands of dollars! I couldn't even wrap my head around it.

That was the problem. I wasn't so sure I could hold myself responsible for something so colossal. That, and the last thing I wanted was to become more involved than I already was in this drug dealing business. Don't get me wrong—I love the money and the friendships it's given me, but running this dance deal would get me connections all over the state. I'd become a name in schools other than Willow Academy. I wasn't so sure I wanted that.

No, I was positive I didn't want that. More connections equal more deals and, while more deals does equal more money, more deals also equal more reputation. More responsibility. More fingers that could be pointed in my direction if something doesn't go right.

I didn't want to end up like my parents.

"Owen?" Riley asked, snapping me out of me reverie. I jumped, and looked cautiously back at him, hoping my face portrayed something along the lines of happiness.

"Peters wants us to meet him right now. Are you in or what?" He asked, like he already knew the answer. I already knew my answer, too. Fucking peer pressure.

I shook my head, knowing grin plastered on my face. "Are you kidding, man? What kinda question is that?" I clipped him on the back, beginning to walk down the now-deserted hallway. I was pretty sure the bell had rung, probably during my earlier introspection, when a plane could have hit the school and I wouldn't have noticed.

"Fuck yes! We're gonna be famous, Kherrington!" Riley exclaimed, trailing behind me like some kind of lovesick puppy. "Why are you going this way? We always meet Dylan near the dining hall..."

"Dude, I've got Dana's class right now. I miss that, and the whole deal might as well be off." Riley opened his mouth to protest, but I quickly cut him off. "I'm always walking on eggshells around him, especially lately. I think he's getting kind of suspicious. So, tell Peters to meet me in the usual place during third. We'll get this thing settled, then we'll get on to being famous and all that shit." I grinned, stalking toward the stairs that would take me up to the third floor of the north hall.

Riley still seemed to hesitate as we parted ways—you just didn't tell Dylan Peters "No" when he told you to do something. I hoped that our tentative friendship would keep from taking too much heat, especially if he wanted to keep that B in Calculus.

Oh, crap.

I audibly groaned, slouching against the stairwell and repeatedly banging my hand against the wall. How could I have forgotten?? Peters needed that answer key soon- definitely before the dance. I think I was supposed to have it for him today... shit!

I was already late for Dana's class! How in the hell was I supposed to snatch the answer key when he would be watching me even closer than usual?

I would have to get him out of the room again. And this time, a class would be in there, so I couldn't just go up to his desk and take it. Hell, where was a freshman in a bathroom when I needed one?

My inspiration came as I grudgingly made my way to my brother's class. The welcome wouldn't be a nice one, so why rush?

Red is my new favorite color. It should be our school color. It's the color of tomatoes and apples and fire trucks and well, fire alarms. I think you get the picture. What was a sure- fire way I could get Dana and his students out of the classroom? Why, by pulling the fire alarm, of course.

My hand had barely pulled the lever down when a sharp, shrill, blaring noise exploded around me. I had to resist the urge to cover my ears and get away from the god-awful screeching.

The reaction was instant. It was a boarding school after all, so we had to be more prepared for something like this than just your average public school student. One by one, doors began to open, and I saw edges of the American flag peeking out from the frames. I had to find a place to hide, and now, before I was swept away with the panicked crowd. The teachers' frantic instructions were a dead giveaway that this was no drill.

Brown is my second favorite color. It's the color of footballs and my hair, and, of course, the conveniently placed door just down the hallway.

I waited until all was silent, and slowly crept out of my cramped hiding place. Dana's room was right there, sitting like the Holy Grail, just waiting to be discovered. There was no way this could have gone better.

The answer key was right where I knew it'd be. Right where the last one was, and right where the future ones would be. Everything had worked out perfectly.

So, why was I such a goddamn mess? I wanted nothing more than to shove the answer key back into Dana's face and beg for forgiveness.

I just didn't want to become my parents.

Instead, I did what Owen Kherrington would always do. I put on a happy face, shoved the answer key in my pocket, and prepared myself for the massive Dance Deal, closer than I'd have ever liked it to be.