Gwyn sat calmly in his seat as the final school bell loomed near. In fact to any casual observer he'd look like he was trying to become the seat. He naturally just sort of bled into the background that way. Unless he was catching your attention with strange, off habits like his nervous twitching or mumbled half-finished sentences. To be honest he just wanted the day to end so he could slink away from all these faces. Ever since Suzie vanished, no, ever since the photography incident, people have been giving him far more attention than he'd ever wanted. It only became a whole lot worse since she disappeared. The situation was uncomfortable in the best of times. At the worst... Well... Mr. Scott, can't you just hurry up and let us go already?

That's when Olivia Hall took center stage, metaphorically speaking, at the front of the classroom. Oh god no, not Olivia. She was just [i]the worst.[/i] Others held him in contempt without ever really trying to get to know him. She seemed to completely [i]loathe[/i] him. How she was one of Suzie's closest friends--nice, angelic, borderline saint-like Suzie--he couldn't figure out for the life of him. It was harder to tell who was the bigger jerk: Olivia, or that walking amalgam of stereotypes Quincy Knight. Well, she was addressing Suzie, so best to be respectful. Olivia announced that the Moore's were holding a funeral service for their daughter. This shocked Gwyn down to his core. His normally lazy looking eyes stretched open and immediately his fingers began tapping the top of his desk very quickly, signalling off his nerves to anyone bothering to pay him the attention. That was it? They were giving up? This was... But why? It it it it had only been three weeks. Three weeks, that's not even as long as he had been stranded on that island in the dead of winter! His own parents, they never gave up hope, they found him they they they the Moores no, they couldn't stop, no. Suzie... Suzie was out there, somewhere. No. No this wasn't right. This wasn't right.

Lost in thought, beginning a cold sweat, Gwyn almost failed to notice when Olivia completely passed him by and didn't give him an invitation to the service. [color=gray]"Hey, I didn't get one... Oh..."[/color] Oh. That look said it all. She wasn't inviting him. Well that wasn't for her to decide, was it? That was, that was the Moore's decision, right? Screw that bitch. Yeah, that's what he should say. But, oh dear, that would just make things worse, huh? Oh. Well. Well she couldn't stop him. Gwyn liked Suzie very much. She was always nice, even if they hadn't sat down and had a full conversation. Her smile told him everything it needed to. She always liked him photographs on Facebook, too. He didn't have anything to do with what happened, why why why would he when she was nice the only nice one why? If he did something wouldn't he do it to everybody else? Ugh. Whatever. He was going to go to that service and there wasn't a thing Olivia could do about it. He had every right to pay his respects. In fact, he could help. Yeah, he could help with the service. He had the perfect picture, something that he could put in the coffin. Better to bury something than nothing, right? Maybe... Maybe...

That was it. Time to go. Gwyn almost missed it and was the last one to get up out of his seat. Oh man, so much was going on. The young man shook his head defiantly, then sighed and resumed his usual look of defeat. No. No no no. Something had to be done. The Moores. They were making a big mistake. Yes, yes they were. They needed to talk to someone. Someone that knows about these things, someone with personal experience. Someone like [i]him.[/i]

... But nobody ever wants to talk to him. Crap.

Dejected, Gwyn slung his backpack over one shoulder and went for the door. As usual he took the fastest, most efficient route straight for the school exit. The longer he lingered, the more chance people would pull him aside to make fun of him, call him names, or accuse him of terrible things. Best to avoid all that. Yeah. Best to avoid it. Gwyn got up to his car in the parking lot, then stopped in his tracks. The windshield had been covered in shaving cream, real thick, about three inches of the stuff. One word had been drawn in the stuff, one word to really twist the knife in. "Pervert."

God damn it. Gwyn unlocked the door, tossed his backpack in with more force than he needed, and slammed the door hard. Starting the car, he turned on the windshield wipers, and the cleaners too. Clear blue liquid moistened the cream and helped to wipe the stuff away. Teenagers. So immature. Shaking his head, Gwyn cautiously pulled out of the high school parking lot, but he didn't head for home. He needed to take a risk. He needed to tell Suzie's parents what a mistake they were making.