Can I just say this wasn't my idea. At all. I mean, my idea of the perfect Saturday night is staying home eating Cheezels and watching the Lion King for the umpteenth time with my kid sister. This wasn't in my routine at all. So I can easily blame Veronica for this whole thing happening. But I know if I do, I'll be no better than Jesse the halfback, who sold Zayn out the first chance he got. So I keep my mouth shut. I sit here with the music boy from my homeroom class, Jesse the halfback, the freakishly tall chick I saw back at the party and Victoria the future stripper, with my lip throbbing from the bruise I earned, and half-asleep because we've been sitting here for the past hour now.

Gosh, how I wish I had just stayed home tonight.

Freakishly tall girl turns to me. She's a head taller, so I have to literally look up to match her gaze. "You okay?" She asks, observing my lip. "You look like shit."

I ignore the back-hand comment in that, and force out a smirk. "You should've seen the other guy." Actually, 'the other guy' was Zayn, and I barely managed to get a single hit on him.

"What's your name?" She asks.

Why am I finding it so hard to remember? "Um. Ivy."

"That took you a while."

"Well, I feel half-dead so it shouldn't really be a surprise."

"Jillian McIntyre."

Wow, full name too. "I like Jillian. It's a nice name."

She smiles down at me. "Thanks. I like Ivy."

Our conversation ends after Victoria the future stripper dips her head onto my shoulder. I cringe. Doesn't she know I have personal touching issues? Doesn't she know her boobs are extremely large and they're peeking through her slightly transparent black blouse? Doesn't she know I'm bisexual and I find her breasts a huge turn-on?

An officer comes up to us, holding his hands in front of his belt like some kind of old time sheriff. He eyes each one of us carefully, and for some reason, stops at me.

"Convicted of vandalism, public disturbance of peace, underage drinking and violence. You plead not guilty. Tell me why I should believe that."

Well, there is no reason you should believe that. The bruise on my lip just proves the violence thing is true. Vandalism? Well, we were pretty much caught tearing up the local store like there's no tomorrow. Public disturbance of peace most probably boiled down to the moment we started singing 'We Are Young' in front of Jesse's neighbor's home, and underage drinking... Well, that speaks for itself.

So, no. There is no reason why this officer should believe we're not guilty.

But Jesse's a natural born two-faced liar. "Officer, sir, we were just giong through the motions." He shrugs, and flashes an almost charming smile. "The drinking thing, sure, we might've had a few things to do with it. But everything else was ordered by a higher source!" What the heck is this guy babbling about? "His name is Zayn-"

"I've heard this a thousand times from you, blonde."

Jesse frowns at the nickname.

"And we've contacted this 'Zayn'. He's happily sober and situated at home."

Wow, Zayn actually managed to cover up his tracks. Looks like Jesse's brilliant plan isn't exactly falling through.

"But for the rest of you, who were caught red-handed, we're gonna have to do something about this. Letting you go with a warning was crossed out the minute we smelt your alcohol-ridden breaths so I'll give you a few choices here, okay? 6 footer, what happened at the convenience store?"

Jillian, who he obviously meant, raises an eyebrow at the blunt nickname. She doesn't look too pleased with it. "We trashed it."

Short, simple. But ineffective.

The officer glares. "Why?"

"Because Zayn said they were selling cheap booze. And Jess and Art wanted so desperately to see if they could get their hands on some to prove to Zayn and his buddies that they're party material."

None of us actually believed she'd say the whole story so straight-forwardly. But apparently this girl doesn't care for the fact that she might've just sentenced us all to a three-week arrest.

"Beanie boy, what happened at Rose Street?"

That's Jesse's neighborhood. He must be talking about when we sang We Are Young. We sang it pretty loud too. Loud enough for the whole nighborhood to hear. Sadly, we weren't exactly in sync so it was a pretty bad choir.

The music boy from my homeroom class, whom I now remember is named Art, looks up at the officer with an almost pleading expression, and shies away. He doesn't respond.

"Okay fine. How about you, black top?" He directs his gaze to Victoria. Is he staring at her boobs? Oh geez, he totally is! What a pervy!

Victoria stirs in her sleep, and sits in an upright position, bringing her head away from my shoulder. She blinks a few times, wipes her eyes, and looks up at the officer.

"Where am I?"

All four of us roll our eyes, including the officer himself. "You're in the police department. Now tell me what happened at Rose Street."

"Rose Street?" She repeats, sounding unbelievably lost.

Jesse pipes up at this. "Victoria isn't gonna remember anything from the amount of alcohol she consumed. There's no point trying to get her to fess up."

"Well, I certainly ain't getting my answers from you, dixie boy the liar of the gang, or him," He gestures to Art. "I better yet just go to the only honest source of the group." And, of course, he turns to Jillian.

Jesse still looks a little stunned at having been called 'dixie boy', and Victoria's still trying to recover from her memory loss. Jillian matches the cop's intense gaze, and sighs.

"We were dared. By one of Zayn's buddies. Rose Street was a clean-cut neighborhood, with the best people and the sickest positivity rate ever so he told us to change that. To see how they would react to a bunch of teens waking them up in the middle of the night screaming and singing songs they obviously didn't know." She turns her gaze to me all of a sudden. "We got away with most of it."

The officer contemplates this, looking down at the ground with a morbid expression, before turning to look at me. Oh crab burgers, his gaze is pretty intense. I squirm in my seat, and look down to avoid him.

"Okay, bruised lip, why don't you tell me how you got sucker punched in the face?"

"I-I-I was, um, w-with-" I gulp down the bile at the back of my throat. It kinda hurts to talk.

The officer doesn't look too amused with me. I take in a deep breath and force myself to straighten up. "I was with Zayn. W-We were both pretty intoxicated. I can't remember if I said something wrong or anything but he took a swig at me. Got me on the lip."

"Pretty good too."

I ignore that comment from Jillian.

"Did you fight back? The cop asks.

I shake my head. I tried to. But... You know, just looking at my physical appearance can give you a clear perspective of what I'm capable of.

The cop sighs. "Well, from all this information, I'm gonna have to say you only have two choices now. I know I said you had a few but after a confession, it's hard to vary the law."

Jillian asks, "What're the options?"

"The first one, I arrest all of you. A four-week prison-arrest in the State Juvenile Hall."

Jesse and I share a look of horror.

"Or the second one. And this is cause I'm a good man and I think you're all misguided kids with hormonal strikes to drink and party. I assign you all to community service. For three months. With the local Church."

Wait, what? He's kidding, right?

That's the easiest thing I've ever heard! I know my choice now.

"We'll take the first choice."

Victoria flings her high heeled shoe at Jesse. "What?! Are you insane?"

He glares back at her. "I'm not going to do 'community service' for some Church! I'm Jewish, bitch!"

"It doesn't matter! I am not going to Juvy."

"Why? You'd fit right in!"

Somehow, Jillian and I are caught between this messy argument. And the cop doesn't look too happy about it either.

"Shut up!" He glares at them both, causing them to instantly pipe down. He sighs, rubs his temples and shakes his head. "This is a group decision. So I'll give you five minutes to decide. If you do pick the second choice, I'll dismiss you tonight. But ya'll will have to be at St. Marcus' Church tomorrow at 6AM. Bright and early. Got that?"

All five of us exchange glances and nod. He nods back, and walks away.

Jillian glares at Jesse. "If you think we're all gonna go to Juvy just cause you're a Jew, you're fucking mad." I flinch at the hate word.

"I never asked for your opinion, lady long giraffe."

"You fucking pest."

Victoria leans over me, obviously failing to notice the fact that I'm even here. I have to admit though, she has really pretty eyes. "Jesse, you dick. We're not going to Juvy. Suck it up and take this community service bullshit like a man! I mean, beanie boy agrees. Right?"

Art glances at Victoria fearfully.

"Fine!" Jesse groans and covers his face. "We'll do this stupid community thingy! But I don't want to hold hands and sing to Christ. I'm not that kind of guy."

How can you not believe in Jesus Christ? Don't Jewish believe in him? Well, I don't know much about religion outside of my religion. I'm a Christian. Plus my family's pretty religious. We go to Church every Monday and Sunday and we pray before we eat. So this community service thing really isn't much of a big deal for me. I guess it's a different case for these three, huh?

"Okay, good." Jillian pushes them both away, and stands up. She turns to face us, but her gaze lingers on me a little longer than the rest. "I'll tell that cop that we choose the second option. So we all can go home now."

"And we'll see each other tomorrow?" Well, not really tomorrow. In 2 hours.

Jillian smiles at me. Almost seductively. "Exactly."

As she leaves, the rest of us start standing up and making our way out. I linger behind for a few seconds, letting my inner conscious soak it all in. Soon, I'm the only one left sitting here. In this Police Department. With the bottom of my lip bruised and bloody, and my eyes probably black from the smudged mascarra. I never should've gone out tonight.

I stand up finally, and make my way out.

I stop just after exiting through the front doors, facing the road, with the cold 4am air whipping through my face like a dramatic Titanic movie. I turn slightly to my right, and freeze.

Victoria stares at me, smiles and nods. "Hey."

I smile back. Slightly. "Hi."

She has a lighted cigarette in her mouth. She rubs her hands together, and takes the cigarette out before breathing out a puff of smoke.

"You're Ivy, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. Ivy Scoots."

She laughs, and gestures for me to come closer. "You got a pretty nasty bruise there, Scoots."

I shuffle a little bit closer to her. She notices my hesitation.

"Would you relax? I'm not gonna bite you or anything, geez."

"Sorry." I turn away slightly. "I don't really like the smell of smoke."

I can tell she's amused. "You don't smoke?"

"Not at all."

"Wanna try it out?"

"No, thank you."

"Polite too." She chuckles and shakes her head. "You're a picture perfect of lovely Sandy from Grease."

I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. "You know Grease?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Hell yeah I know Grease. I mean, that movie has more cameltoe moments than I can count, but if they got the junk to show off, I don't see why not."

Okay, that's a bit more like the Victoria Jackman everyone in school knows. She tucks a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, and blows out another puff of smoke. "So Ivy, how'd you get caught up in Zayn's party anyways? Judging from your personality so far and your sickeningly sweet looks, I'd say you don't really go out much, especially not to places like those."

"A friend invited me."

"Who?"

"Veronica."

"Veronica, as in Zayn's half-sister Veronica?"

I nod.

"How d'you know her?"

I shuffle my feet, shoving my hands into my jacket to keep frostbite from happening.

"She was my lab partner."

"Is that so?" She breathes out smoke again. "Do you know her well?"

"Well enough to be considered her friend."

"Well enough to kiss her?"

"What?"

Victoria looks at me from the corner of her eye. Something smug lies within her eyes. Something I don't feel like engaging.

"She has a reputation, y'know."

"Veronica? I know. She's Zayn's half-sister. That's reputation enough."

"Well, she also has a thick list of ex girlfriends. Why do you think she's never had a boyfriend before?"

That's not of my business. I thought about it before. But I never brought it up in front of her. I'm just fortunate she considers me a friend. I don't want to snap the line I'd tried so hard to keep straight.

"It's getting late. I should be getting home." I say, my voice softer than usual. I can see Victoria's smirk from the corner of my eye. I give her one last glance, before walking away.

"Good luck with your parents, Scoots."

I wince, but I don't turn around. Instead I continue on my way home.

I have nothing against Victoria Jackman. But the only reason I've isolated myself from the popular people is precisely because of people like her. She's egoistic, arrogant and ignorant. She doesn't care about anyone but herself. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. I'm sorry. I don't mean it in a cruel way. I'm sure Victoria's a nice person at heart. But she can be pretty vindictive. Especially since she's the heiress of the Jackman family. I can't help but turn my head one last time to look over my shoulder at the direction of the Police Department. But in the place of where Victoria stood, is nothing but darkness. I turn my gaze forward, and shrug my jacket closer towards my neck.

I have about an hour and a half till our community service starts. I'm not exactly excited for it. But it's not like I'm devastated either. I mean, going to Church every morning to help other people with the three most troublemaking students in school is not an ideal morning activity, but it's something!

I see my plain white house peeking just between two large oak trees a few feet away. Mum and dad are probably still home. The PD definitely called my parents to tell them about my little disaster, and dad's probably in the living room, fuming, with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the blank television. Mum, on the other hand, is probably doing the thing she always does when she's under pressure or frustration; Cook. So there're two sides to this, really. I'm gonna get grounded, in addition to my community service, with a ban from tv and computers for a month or so. But I'm also gonna get to eat one of mum's delicious dishes. It's a win-win situation. And at this point, the thought of eating one of mum's homemade dishes at home is definitely alluring.

2: Chapter Two

Dad grounded me. I'm not surprised. Two months. No going out with friends, with the exception of birthday parties. Also no electronics, including phones, but only for the first three weeks. That's not too bad. I thought he'd be more upset than he was. But he took it quite well. I think after he saw my bruised lip, he got a little sympathetic. Dads don't like seeing their daughter bruised and beaten up. After he gave me an infuriatingly long lecture, he ordered (yeah, ordered) me to go up to my room to take a hot shower before getting ready to go to St. Marcus' Church. I won't get any sleep today. And sleep is the one thing I crave for every hour of every waking minute.

This is gonna be a long day.

After my shower, I quickly wipe my frizzy ginger hair dry, push it back with a hairband, and look through my closet for suitable clothing. I notice my usual Church clothes hanging from a green hanger by the corner of the closet. It's a pretty long pink dress, with flowers that drape from the shoulder to the hem. But I can't possibly where that today, can I? We're doing community work. I'm only assuming we're gonna get somewhat dirty. Plus I'm gonna be surrounded by my high school acquaintances. They aren't exactly the cleanest people in the block. So I settle for a casual white T, a faded blue sweater and knee-lengthed boardshorts. Call me a nerd but comfortable boardshorts is the best piece of clothing the world has ever made.

I put my clothes on, dry my hair thoroughly, comb through it (making sure to not let the comb get stuck in it this time) and wear my Cross necklace, before heading out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, where mum and dad are lounging. They decided not to go back to sleep after I got home. They're pretty grouchy when they don't get enough sleep. But they know what I've been through, so they won't really nag at me this morning. Maybe tomorrow.

Before I reach the kitchen, I pass the mirror situated by the stairs. I pause in front of my reflection. The girl staring at back at me looks no different from the girl I always see in that mirror. Except today a few red marks mark her neck, and an ugly purple bruise is left by the corner of her lip, looking both badass and pathetic. I frown, and take a deep breath, and then wince. Wow, it does still hurt. I head to the kitchen, where dad offers me the slightest nod, and mum gives me my usual toast. Unfortunately last night, she didn't cook me any of her delicious delicacies. We ran out of cooking oil.

"You're not wearing your church dress." Dad notices it. Not weird. He's the one who buys me my clothes.

I sit down next to him and munch onto my toast. Oh! Strawberry jam, my favorite! "I didn't think it'd be appropriate."

"For Church?"

"For community service."

He thinks about it for a moment, before directing his gaze back to the newspaper in his hands.

Once I finish my toast, I kiss my dad and mum goodbye, like I always do, put on my old torn-up white sneakers, and race out of the house. My bicycle's parked at the usual spot. Next to the fence, chained onto it with a giant padlock. I fish out a key from my wallet and unlock it. Then I direct it out the gate, and ride my way down the road towards the direction of the Police Department.

The feeling of the wind whipping through my hair is breathtaking.

I pass the PD, giving it a small glance, before making my way further down the road towards St. Marcus' Church. My school's a little ways further down. But today's a Sunday. So at this time of morning, the road's clear, and the school's deserted. We have afternoon classes, but those are only for the weaker students.

Finally, I reach the Church. It's not a big Church. In fact, it's only probably half the size of my school. I park my bicycle by the signpost opposite the entrance, lock it onto the pole, and walk up to the tall, giant white doors. I see two figures standing by the stairs. Two familiar figures, one with his beanie pulled down over his eyes, and the other with a cigarette in her mouth. Art and Victoria. I approach them, and Victoria's the first to notice me.

She grins at me. "Lookie here. Scoots has finally arrived."

I glance at Art. He looks like he's asleep, so I turn my full attention to Victoria.

"What time did you get here?"

"I was here all morning. Since you ditched me back at the DP."

"You didn't go home?"

"Did I have to?"

"No. I just thought you'd need like, a bath or something."

She laughs. A husky tone. No doubt because of the smoking she's done. "I don't believe in the myth that you need to clean your body everyday. I'll do it after this whole thing."

I don't want to point out the fact that she might smell like a hobo for the next few hours in fear of getting punched or slapped, so instead I sit on the stairs next to Art, and stare out at the roads. I look at my watch. 5.59AM. Where's our chaperone? And where're are Jesse and Jillian?

I watch as a cloud of smoke comes right up to my face, filling my nostrils with that horrid smell of nicotine, carbon dioxide, and tires. I wave my hand over it.

I turn to look at Victoria. She doesn't seem to notice my discomfort. "Could you not smoke please?"

She shoots me an amused smile. "A polite order."

"It wasn't an order. It was a request."

"And if I say no?"

I don't respond.

Seconds later, I see Victoria, from the corner of my eye, seperating the cigarette from her lips, dropping it onto the ground and stepping on it to kill the lit edge. She exhales slowly, and sits down beside me, looking either completely stoned or utterly exhausted. I vouch for a little of both.

"Thanks."

She licks her lips. "I didn't do it for you. The cigarette was getting short anyway."

I see two figures walking towards us. One half a head taller than the other. The taller one has dirty blonde hair cut short by the neck, with a slim lanky body and gorgeous blue eyes. The shorter one has a neat clean cut, with strands of platinum blonde hair sticking out the top of his neck, with a lean body and brown eyes. Jesse and Jillian. Jillian being the taller one. Jesse being the grumpier one. They both approach us. And once again, Jillian keeps her eyes on me. It's a little intimidating and undermining. I feel like I'm shrinking into the ground.

"Morning." Jillian says, smiling at us. Victoria nods her head at her, and Art remains in his position with his beanie covering his eyes.

Jesse isn't as enthusiastic. He grumpily walks between Victoria and I, and lean against the giant white doors.

"Let's get this over with."

"You shouldn't lean on the Church doors." Jillian says.

"Yeah? And why not? Is God gonna curse me for pressing my back against his unstained, beautiful doors?"

"Probably not. But you reek of alcohol and smoke, and the people coming to Church on this fine morning are gonna wonder why the entrance to this place smells like a horny teenager."

Jesse narrows his gaze, but pushes himself off. Jillian's logic does the trick. I have to admit, I find her brains a turn-on.

"Where's the cop anyways?"

A tall figure emerges from behind the Church. "Right here."

We all turn to him. He's the same guy from yesterday. Big, dark-skinned, muscular, and looking quite alert. Instead of the officer's uniform he wore yesterday, he's wearing a thin white T and dark jeans. He's still wearing a badge on his shirt though, so he is still apart of the law reinforcement. He smiles thinly at us, looking as if it was forced, and nods.

"Let me explain something to you all." He circles us, so that he's standing directly in front of us. "This is community service. Which means this isn't some walk-in-the-park game. You're gonna help children. You're gonna save lives. And you're also gonna praise the Lord." He looks at Jesse. "Not that I'm forcing you to follow a destined religion. I just want you to believe in the power of God. And in the fact that life is not all alcohol and cigarettes and loud music."

Victoria laughs. Loudly. "Are you kidding? Life is shit without all those."

This girl obviously never heard of Pop Soda and the Little Mermaid.

"There are three people I'd like you to meet today. One of whom being my partner in crime. Sam. He's a young officer. Who's gone through what you're all going through right now." He looks at his watch. "He should be here anytime now."

"Um, Mr. Officer sir?"

His sharp gaze turns to me slowly, as if I had just interrupted him in a life-or-death speech.

"What's your name?"

"Earl."

"Earl?"

Jesse scoffs. "Serious?"

"No. My name's Wayne." He nods at me. "Wayne Williams. Assistant Chief of the New Jersey Police Department."

I cover my face with my hand. Assistant Chief? Bullocks.

"All right, Sam's here. He's a nice guy. Just don't try to cheat him. He's still a little naïve and inexperienced."

Something flashes in Jesse's brown eyes, but everyone chooses to ignore it. The sound of a motor engine comes ehcoing through the streets, clear as a bell. Soon enough, a motorcycle pulls up front beside the signpost where my bicycle's parked. A lean, muscular, young looking man gets off. He's sporting a thick leather jacket, a blue T, and black cotton pants. When he takes off his helmet, he reveals his face. Gelled and spiked brown hair sticks up at the front, with the back smoothed to the brick. Tanned skin with a refined face, matched with a nice set of light brown eyes, a straight nose and thin peach lips. He doesn't look a day older than 22. A young cop. Not rare. But a young good-looking cop? Quite rare indeed.

I turn my gaze slightly to the left. I can clearly see Victoria's interest in this guy. She's bitting her lip, staring, and giving off the weird aura girls give off when they're interested in someone. Like, really interested. I turn my gaze back to the young cop. He's nearing Wayne now, with a cute smile playing on his face.

"Morning, Wayne."

"Morning, Sam. These are the kids I told you about."

"Ah, I see." He flashes us a smile. Victoria chuckles silently, and stares him up and down. The sight makes me think of a snake sizing a rat down. It terrifies me.

"Now, we have Beanie boy, 6 footer, Dixie boy, Bruised lip and Black top." He gestures to each one of us respectively. Sam doesn't comment on the nicknames, and instead nods his head like a tentative little boy.

Jesse raises his hand. "Why the hell am I Dixie boy?"

Wayne outright ignores him. He turns to Sam, says a few things to him in a hushed whisper, so that none of us are able to hear him, and shrugs. Sam nods, although he looks a little bit worried. Finally Wayne turns to us, waves and walks off. That leaves just us with Sam, who seems more nervous now that his partner's gone.

"Okay!" He claps his hands together. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Sure," Victoria smirks. "I'll start at the bottom and you can come in from the top."
We all shoot her incredulous looks. Even Art. Who's pulled the beanie from his eyes, and is once again, awake. I'm having a little trouble, after experiencing her personality, registering the fact that Victoria Jackman is the daughter to Nick Jackman, the famous singer songwriter of New Jersey, and is well-respected around the music community. But maybe the reason she's currently acting this way is because she's still slightly drunk and stoned. I turn my gaze back to Sam. He actually looks interested.

"Well, first thing's first. I'm gonna need names. And not the names Wayne assigned to you guys. Real names. Something that makes you guys sound like actual teenagers."

"Jesse."

"Jillian. And he's Art."

I swallow. "Ivy."

Victoria winks at him, before purring out a soft and wistful, "Victoria."

Sam nods, acknowledging Victoria's sultry wink, and gestures to the garden behind him. I don't think anyone's really noticed it until now. I have though. Considering I come here every Sunday and Monday, my attention always seem to waver to that particular mini-garden enclosed on a 15 ft. pavement. It would've been beautiful. A great eden for those who come to worship the Lord. But because of lazy maintenance and the lack of water, the crops, flowers and grass have all but withered and died. Now it's just a faded shade of green, accompanied with a few dots of grey-purple or grey-pink. I don't need to wonder to know what Sam's thinking. We're gonna clean the garden up. Pluck some weeds, cut the grass, plant in new flowers or fruit bushes. Basically just house gardening. And the thought excites me.

I can't say the same for the rest of them though. I take a look to my right, where Jillian nonchalantly searches her fingernails, and Art's kicking a pebble with the edge of his shoe, and to my left, where both Victoria and Jesse look at the brink of falling asleep. Besides staring at Sam, Victoria looks otherwise asleep already.

"Are we gonna clean it up?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. My voice, for the first time since they met me, has a cute ring of enthusiasm to it. Victoria turns to me, eyes wider than before. I can just barely see Jillian's seductive smirk from my right, but I choose to ignore it in fear of blushing at full force.

Sam smiles. "Yes, we are. You garden much?"

"Most times. With my mum and sister. The women in the house always do the house work."

"So you know what to do then?"

I glance at the dead garden. "Oh yeah, definitely."

Sam seems glad at this. Probably because he doesn't know what to do.

"Alright then. Let's get started!" He claps again. Just once. And the five of us are forced to get up.

Gardening is an easy job for me. I do it twice every month. And when I do do it, I always have fun doing it. But maybe that's because I'm doing it with my mum and my little sister. Maybe that's the fun of it all. Maybe doing it with this bunch is just going to be agonizing, pressuring and frustrating. There's a high chance that may be so. Yet that doesn't seem to be the case. I grab the rake leaning on the pillar by the Church, and start raking away the dried leaves and dead flowers, feeling my own consciousness float away with the sense of serenity taking over me. I've always felt calm gardening. I look up slightly. The rest aren't having as much fun though. Victoria and Jesse, especially, who look about ready to drop dead onto the ground and roll around and just lie dead. I don't blame them. We had a tough night.

After we've raked away the leaves, I put the rake aside, and pick up the gardening gloves. The next half an hour was spent plucking out weeds, digging up tiny holes and planting new seeds for the new flowers to bloom. We even watered the garden to keep the soil, which had gone dry, moist. Jillian found this task especially soothing. She was humming a familiar song all the way through. Finally, about an hour and a half later, we finish.

Jesse and Victoria are the first to collapse on the Church stairs. Not that any of us are surprised.

"That was good work!" Sam says, looking bright and chipper. He didn't do anything besides watch us work and give Victoria the occasional winks.

"What's next?" Jillian asks, placing the garden gloves onto the ground next to the rakes.

Sam thinks about it for a few moments. "I think Wayne's supposed to come back. He just told me to clean the garden up. Nothing beyond that." He checks his phone, and then checks the driveway, and then back to his phone. "I think I'll give him a call."

Once he's out of earshot, I sit down heavily on the stairs and breathe out a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad. I like gardening, for one. And even though my body's starting to get heavier by the minute, I can probably pull through until noon. Someone sits down beside me. Someone tall. Someone who likes flashing me seductive smiles. Someone who, from what I've gathered, is clearly confident.

"Hey." Jillian smiles.

"Hi." I smile back.

"You're a good gardener."

"Um, thanks?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I meant to say you had skills. You were good with nature."

I laugh a little nervously. "No, I'm just... I just garden a lot. It has nothing to do with skill or anything like that."

"When a waiter manages to balance a dozen different drinks on top of one tray, you can't just say he 'waits' a lot."

I'm at a loss for wards. "Thanks."

She smiles warmly. "You're welcome."

Before she can dive deeper into conversation and make me feel even more nervous than I already do, Sam comes back, with his phone still at hand. He smiles at us.

"Guess who's going to help clean up Little Shakers Orphanage?"