Cold. It was cold. Freezing, in fact. I hated that. If I could choose between summer or winter, I'd pick summer, any day. Cold, cold, go away; come again another day. Wait, on second thought, don’t come back. However, it wasn’t winter; it was that stupid air conditioner. But, of course, Mrs. Pearson, our math teacher more boring than wood, never felt cold. In fact, she felt that it was scorching and so, she didn’t allow jackets, or even sweaters in the classroom. Well, wasn’t that nice? I was pretty sure that the rest of the class had felt that, too. My train of thought was suddenly disrupted by a death-pale hand clutching a note, shivering as well. Taking it, I glanced at the paper note, and unfolded it. My deep, oceanic eyes widened at the message written in pure red: IT'S A LIE. Well, that was pretty straightforward. I stared ahead, to see the clock strike one o' clock. My head turned to my right from where I had received the note. Sky blue eyes on a face of pale skin met my gaze—Francesca. Curiously, I mouthed at her, "Where'd you get this from?" Nodding as she understood, she tilted her head of blonde curls back, and my stare shifted to a sweet redhead, who pointed at a fair boy, who tilted his head to Louis, the class techie, across the room. It boomed like a stampede of one hundred bulls. Like the cold, the class hated the bell. Grabbing my textbook, pen, and the paper note after hoisting my backpack onto my back, I stood up from the chair, and raced to catch up with him. "Hey!" I called out, a few strands flying out from my dark brown hair, which was in a ponytail, folded, and attached to my scalp with a broad clip, just in front of my eyes.
       The call reached his ears, and Louis halted like a car at a stop sign. In response, he turned around and told me, "Ahem. I have a name." His rectangular-frames gave a slight glare from the ceiling light. "You've got thirty seconds. I got History next, and it's at the other side of the school." 
       "Sorry, Louis," I self-corrected in a slight mocking tone and rolled my eyes at the annoyance of not getting straight to the point yet. I continued, "You got a note that was passed to me, right?" He nodded slowly, wondering of the relevance of it to his daily life. "Well, do you know who gave you that note?"         
      “Not sure,” Louis shrugged, “Could’ve been anyone, I guess. That all?” His foot tapping like a bee buzzing made it easy to notice his impending impatience. After nodding slowly, he walked away like no one’s business. Hmm. Kind of odd when the person who originally passed the note wasn’t the one who wrote it. 
                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
          Funny how we all hated that torturous bell, yet adored that final ring of the day, like it was angel’s heavenly song, only it was shrieked out, because from here on out, the rest of the ds=ay would be pure bliss. My footsteps in my violet leather boots and skinny jeans were accompanied by the slightly heavier pats of light blue sneakers and mud-brown slacks. I turned to my left to see a brunette with her hair just below her shoulders, her hoop earrings dangling, and hazel eyes twinkling at me with a lovely red barrette on top—Jaclyn "Jazz" Nunez. With a nourished-skinned finger, she flicked some lint off of her short-sleeved dark green top. "So..." I reported to her with unease in my voice, "Something happened in Math today…” 
         I was interrupted by a lively scat, bearing little resemblance to the pop songs of today. Sure enough, I didn't notice her cloud-white earplugs connected to her iPod Touch, in a matching dove-white case, before. They called her "Jazz" for a reason, but I really needed to talk to her. "Jazz..." I sang. No reply. "JAZZ..." I repeated a little louder. Still no response.  "JAZZ!" I yelled, and yanked off her earplugs. A surprised cry followed.
         “Perdon, Amiga," Jazz apologized, "Sorry. You were saying?"
          "Forget it." I replied, feeling a little more calm, "Let's just go to some ice cream around the corner. I'm starved!"
          "Me, too!" Jazz agreed with joy. With us carrying our large tote bags, we strolled out of the plain, tasteless torture facility—otherwise known as school—and into the soothing sunlight beaming on our skins. Our shoes went from tapping on hard tiles, to rustling on the light green grass. Jazz and I exchanged smiles, mine of sweetness, and another of brightness. Oh, how I loved May.
                         	                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
        Her head was in the menu, like an elephant was pulling her in. "Mmm," Jazz reacted to one of the choices, licking her hot pink lips. "The Strawberry Ice Cream Sundae Delight sounds delicious!"
         "DE-lightful!" I nodded in agreement, and we shared a bright laugh. "I think I'll have the Yum-Yum Mango Ice Cream Sundae."
        "Good choice," she commented.
        I took in a whiff of the aroma of the flavorful gummies, swirled whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles  all around me a moment before a tall, tan-skinned waiter in red walked over to us, his sandy blonde hair shining in the sunlight through the window. "Hey, guys. Nice to see you both at Yum-Yum Sweet Parlor. I shall let you both know about our ‘Being Yum-Yum Healthy is Yum-Yum Sweet’ policy, just as a little assurance. So, ah, what can I get you?"
        "Well, Trey," Jazz answered, and then scatted her order quickly in a matter-of-factly tone. Growing up with her has given me a bit of the tongue of jazz as well.
        "Strawberry Ice Cream Sundae Delight, got it, Jazz," Trey took a pencil from behind his ear and jotted it down onto the notepad, "And you, Myra?"
       "I'll have the..." Chocolate Surprise, the thought echoed into my mind, Chocolate Surprise. "Chocolate Surprise." I finished without thinking twice.
        The two were taken aback. "Chocolate Surprise?" Toby repeated in disbelief.
        "But you HATE the Chocolate Surprise!" Jazz exclaimed. "Scratch that! You DESPISE it!"
        "You SURE about the Chocolate Surprise?" Trey asked with unease.
        "Yeah," I replied, "Tastes change. Who knows? Maybe mine will, too."
       "Oka-ay," Trey shrugged, and walked back to the kitchen.
       "Hmm," Jazz noted, "Odd. Whatever happened to the Mango?"
      She was right. That was odd. I reacted without even thinking, like I wasn't supposed to. What was I to say? "I, um," I answered with a slight stammer, fiddling with my diamond earring, "decided to try something new, that's all." Jazz was skeptical, but my smile had done it in. It was like a plastic cake—its appearance sweet, yet still all the more fake. A few minutes had passed, and Trey was already strolling over with the two sundaes, the both of us already catching the wonderful scent of them. "Strawberry Delight for Jazz," he declared as he set them down on the table, "and one…” His tone sank to be slightly hesitant, “Chocolate Surprise for Myra." Jazz licked her hot pink lips with her serpentlike-tongue upon sight of the appetizing dessert. Bending the straw in my direction, I took a small sip. Already, the choking nutmeg and excess chocolate attacked my taste buds, and it felt like tobacco and ash, sticking to my tongue. In response, a gag escaped from my blood red lips, my eyes bulging out up at the ceiling, as tears struggled to cry down my slightly-pale cheeks.
        "Lay out a napkin in front of her," the waiter urgently commanded Jazz, and my best friend obeyed, opening a "Yum-Yum" napkin just in front of me. Trey bent me over, my long, pitch black hair flowing on my shoulders, and the ends of them barely touching the smooth table. My arms held my head in pain. My head, oh, my head! It's KILLING me! My wild oceanic eyes darted around the room, where people started to stare. "All right, Myra," Trey announced, joining his hands together to make a combined fist, "this is where five years of boys' wrestling comes to use!" Raising his combined fist, he pounded it onto my back... HARD. My coughing halted for a second. Is it over? But, oh, no, there was something, I knew, something forcing its way up my throat! It struggled up to my mouth, and out, and unleashing one final cough and chocolate chunks as well as nutmeg powder spilt out of my blood red lips onto the napkin! "You want me to get the Mango for you?" He asked sweetly. I nodded, still a tad quiet, and Trey raced back to get the order. My lungs took in deep breaths as I stared across to see Jazz's unusual silence. "Whoa," she commented. Then, she carefully picked out the cherry from the whipped cream drizzled with strawberry syrup it lay cozily on, like bouncing on a cloud. Bending the thin straw towards her lips, she curiously slurped with her eyes bulging and with an innocent stare. We giggled softly. If there was one thing about Jazz and I, it was that I was Yin and she was Yang, both balanced opposites yet having a little of each other in ourselves.
                                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
        The streets were crowded with vrooming cars; Ferraris, Hondas, everything, everywhere! I checked my sky blue watch, which read, “4:00” the moment Jazz and I stepped out of Yum-Yum Sweet Parlor, our hearts content, and our hunger satisfied. As my best friend took out her iTouch and started to check her email, I stared around, looking at the flower shop where roses bloomed, and the local deli where fresh bread baked—my eyes halted at a shadowy figure behind a building sign, looking like he was gazing at me through his dark sunglasses. My eyebrows furrowed at him, and the moment our stares met, he quickly turned his back and fast-walked away. “Crud,” Jazz muttered bitterly, “I got to go.”
          “Yeah, yeah,” I replied in a daze, not paying any attention at all. “You know what?” I told her, “I’m going to go, um, run some errands.” My head shifted towards her, smiling deceivingly. Jazz, still fixed on that small screen, nodded, “Sure, bye, see you later.” We headed in separate directions; Jazz’s mind focused on getting home, and mine on “errands”. 
                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
             He was by the hot dog vendor, I thought to myself as I stepped down the sidewalk towards the bearded man scooping up some relish onto a vertical bun of white bread with a turkey sausage already inside, but where did he go after that? After the customer with his newly-bought hot dog strolled away, I faced the hot dog man. “Did you see a man in dark? He was just in front of your ‘business’ a few seconds ago,” I questioned a little loudly to make myself heard over the honking cars driving on the neatly paved roads. 
            “Man in ‘dawk’?” The hot dog man answered in a “New Yawk” accent, “Hmm, can’t say that I do, considewin’ that I work ‘hawd’ ‘thuewout’ the day and could youse some extra change, if ‘ya’ see whehre I’m gettin’ at.” He rubbed the tips of his fingers together as he gave a wink.
          He was right. I did “see whehre he was gettin’ at”. After giving an exasperated sigh, I took out my aqua-coated purse and pulled out a mint green five dollar bill, waving it in his face and then setting the note on the metal counter. Like a thief, he snatched the money greedily and held it up to see it from the sunlight. “Ah, well, if it isn’t my good friend Ol’ Honest Abe? Well, what can I ‘elp you with, ‘sweethawt’? Oh, right, the man in ‘dawk’. Pretty thin for a man, though. I, uh,” He thought aloud in response, chewing on his tobacco, “think he went ‘thaddaway’.” He pointed his slightly chubby finger down south, and faster than a racecar, I ran around the corner, the smoky smell of hot sausages fading within the distance.  There was a rumble in the sky. My head tilted up as I ran to witness the poofy white clouds of joy suddenly fade into ominous gray thunderclouds, preying on the cerulean blueness, dark blandness invading in like a mothership on Earth. Toto, I don’t think we’re in May anymore. The winds gossiped quite loudly, talking about the street-talking hot dog man, the amount of kids at Yum-Yum’s every day, and the mysterious hooded stranger in dark, paying no attention to the odd weather, just sitting there, gazing across the road. Suddenly, already with full knowledge of my glare, his head turned in my direction, like a ghostly skeleton, his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses, like a child behind a rosebush. The hot dog man was right; he didn’t exactly have the build of one with the strength of ten bulls, or one even. One second. One second was all it took. That was all it took for him to snap up on his feet and walk away, his hands buried in his pockets, and his collar of his trench coat folded up to keep him hidden. But I was there to follow, determination settling inside my heart like a boulder in the sea. The crowds were bustling; nobody would notice our cat-and-mouse chase. His footsteps became lighter and lighter as his speed quickened until it reached the point where it was as if he was on air. He was running, definitely. Time to pick up the pace a bit. From fast-walking, I began to dash after him. In response, he began to zoom. Oh, no, you don’t! My breaths accelerated to support my pumping heart, and I could swear that we were running twenty miles an hour. My eyes glanced up at the frightening sky. He began to shove strangers standing in his way. I pushed others as well as my clothes began to get soaked by the heavy rain. I was not about to lose him! Immediately, he made a sharp turn around the corner. Screeching an inch away from touching a taxi, I followed in his direction. We were running down the alley. The figure halted to a stop. He paled. Dead end. Thunder boomed. My feet skidded to a stop. We were about three meters away from each other. I shivered. The rain was icy, pouring on my skin. I saw the stranger tremble as well. But he wasn’t a he. I could see long drenched pitch black hair, almost completely blending in with her trench coat. Over the loud taps of the rain, I yelled, “Who are you?!”
             “Do you remember?” She rasped.
             “Remember what?” I responded, and then questioned, “Were you the one who gave me the note?”
            “At the parlor!” She cried out, her voice hoarse. “The Chocolate Surprise!” 
            I froze. And it wasn’t because of the cold. “Shut up,” I murmured coldly. Why didn’t I want to know?
           “Why did you order the Chocolate Surprise?” She continued. “You wanted the Mango!” 
          “Shut up,” I repeated, the volume increased.
         “Because it wasn’t your choice! Someone else told you to make that decision! And guess who? You told yourself to order it! And do you know why?!” She shouted.
      “STOP IT!” I screamed.
    “BECAUSE IT’S DOABLE! YOU GOT THAT?!” Her voice pierced the thunderclouds. There was a bolt. A bolt of blue struck the ground from the skies as the clouds swirled. How could that make any sense? There was a white beam, like the light that people go to when they die. It touched her skin, yet she paid no attention to it as I noticed the same on mine. “REMEMBER!” She shrieked, her eyes fixed on my confused expression. “IT’S DOABLE!” Those were her last words as she steadily vanished, and went it all went black.
                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    
My eyes popped open with a shock. I breathed in a gasp of air. I saw it. I saw it all. “It’s doable,” I giggled in relief, “It’s doable!” But where was I? Quickly, I got up from the desk where I would sit in, and my head shifted to see a chalkboard with a series of equations written on it. Math. Oh, joy. I was in math class. My eyes rolled over to the luxurious spinny chair, where a long, black trench coat was being hung around. Hmm. The coat could be utilized for disguise. Stepping as quietly as mouse to the chair and silently taking the coat from it. Well, don’t mind if I do. I know I shouldn’t steal, but I’ll have to. Buttoning it and pulling up the collar after I put it on, I strolled over to the hand mirror Mrs. Pearson kept in her desk, and studied my appearance. My jaw dropped. Reaching into my right pocket, my hands took out a pair of sunglasses, and wore them. My hidden eyes, my nearly-covered face, my build—Just like the stranger. My eyes widened in surprise. My ears received a painful treat—the agonizing bell. Staring up at the clock, I realized that it was 12:14. Christ! The note! Any second the students would come in, and two of me wouldn’t be good! Pulling out the “IT’S A LIE” note, and grabbing a Post-It from Mrs. Pearson’s desk, I quickly jotted on the Post-It, “Louis, pass to Myra at 1:01.” I stuck the Post-It to the folded note, and placed it on the solid oak desk in which Louis sits. Laughter getting louder. I let out a soft yelp. My eyes darted around for a second exit. The drawers, the chalkboard, the desks, the window, the sunlight—Window! Like there was no tomorrow (no pun intended), I leaped out of it, and raced away. Now… I wait.
                                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                         Cold. It was cold. Freezing, in fact. I hated that. If I could choose between summer and winter, I'd pick summer, any day. Cold, cold, go away. Come again another day. Wait, on second thought, don’t come back. However, it wasn’t winter; it was that stupid air conditioner. But, of course, Mrs. Pearson NEVER felt cold. In fact, she felt BURNING HOT and so didn’t allow jackets, or even sweaters in the classroom. Well, wasn’t that nice? I was sure that the rest of the class had felt that, too. My train of thought was disrupted by a pale hand clutching a note, shivering as well. Taking it, I glanced at the notebook paper note, and unfolded it. My chocolate eyes widened at the message written in pure red: IT'S A LIE. Well, that was pretty straightforward. It’s doable, but why did I just think that, the mixed thoughts echoed in my mind as I stared up at the clock to see it strike one o’ one.
IT’S A LIE06-80pg. 1