Isn't that just the way? You stress and kill yourself and guilt yourself and it turns out to be nothing.

"So are you gonna do it?" he asks.

"Are we talking about my skin again?"

"No. About you moving out here."

"Is that really why you called so early?" It's like four in the morning out there.

He waits so long to answer that I think-again-we've been disconnected. Finally: "Kev? Do you remember what it was like when Mom and Dad were married?"

The yelling and screaming? Sure. Who could forget? "Well, yeah."

"Because I don't."

"And that's why you called me this early? Because you don't remember..." And I stop.

Jesse sounds sad that he doesn't remember.

It hits me then-he doesn't know what it was like. He has a good life out there in California, but he doesn't know if his life used to be better. As far as he knows, it's always been this way.

I try to remember back to when I was six or seven. It's tougher than I thought it would be. I remember little bits and pieces, but nothing major. Maybe that's because I don't have anyone to talk to about those memories, so they just fade. Is that how memory works?

"What's wrong, Jesse?"

"I don't know. I just wondered what it was like."

"Do you remember Pandazilla and Aquahorse?"

"Of course." He laughs a little. "I remember you, Kev. I just don't remember them."

Maybe that's for the best. But we talk some more and I try to be fair, try to tell him the good stuff and the bad stuff. We start filling in each other's gaps a little bit and that's cool, even if some of the gaps are painful.

After a while, call waiting beeps, which is probably good. I don't know how much of this remembering we should do at one time.

Jesse hangs up after saying, "I hope I see you in a couple of months," and I click over to the other line.

"Did you see the paper?" Flip asks, his voice bouncing.

I go get the newspaper from the doorstep. It's raining and the paper's a little soggy, but I can still read the headline: VANDALS DESECRATE SAMMPARK. There's a picture of cops milling about the statue, and you can actually see the statue just the way we left it.

"It's even better this way," Flip says, all giddy. "I didn't even have to hack anything this time. They did the work for me. Of course, we lost Officer s.e.xpot, but that's no big deal. She went out at the top of her game, G.o.d bless her."

I tell him I need to go, even though I don't have anything to do before school. I look at the mess of my camcorder, at the picture of Leah, at the newspaper. My life is a mix of some really weird stuff and I don't know what any of it means.

But maybe I don't have to. Maybe I just have to keep running back to it.

If Flip thought that the attempted desecration of the SAMMPark statue would somehow take the heat off me at school, he was wrong. Even the mayor's new stickers on my car don't inoculate me.

There is a slightly different vibe, though. I'm not crazy enough to think that I changed people's minds, but maybe I gave them something to think about, at least. And if Dr. Goethe takes my idea seriously, there will be more opportunities to do that.

One inch at a time. One mind at a time.

I feel ... OK. But I should feel great, tell the truth. I mean, I stomped all over John Riordon, verbally speaking. I got some people to applaud for me. Just this morning, Mr. Wistler, the guy who runs the school paper, asked me if I would write an editorial.

I fought the good fight for Susan Ann Marchetti. I finally told Dad about Mom's offer.

But...

But even though I try to avoid seeing Leah or Riordon in the halls, I end up catching them repeatedly, almost as if G.o.d is shoving them in my face. See what you don't get, Kross?

It bothers me up until around lunchtime, when I go hide out on the catwalk and then kick myself for being a complete idiot.

How can I be p.i.s.sed at Leah for not returning my, y'know, my emotions when she didn't even know about them? Is she supposed to read my mind? Until I saved her life, I hardly ever even talked to her. Even G.o.d likes us to remind him we love him-how can people be any different?

It's tough to admit, but Riordon deserves her. He had the courage to talk to her, to go after her. Me? I just ... I never did. I had the courage to save her life, but not to ask her out. I don't have any right to be p.i.s.sed at either of them.

Man, that sucks. No matter how bad things get, you can make 'em a little bit better by getting angry at someone.

I hear Fam on the ladder before I see her.

"Hey, Kevin."

"Hi, Jules." It just feels right. I don't feel like a Fool right now. "Thanks for letting me borrow your cell the other day."

She plops down next to me. "You're welcome."

"And thanks for, you know, for everything else." She says nothing, so I keep going. "For the research. And for keeping my secret. And for, you know, not telling Flip about me being an idiot. And..."

And we sit in total silence for a little while.

"You OK?" she asks.

"I guess."

"Is this about ... that girl?"

Something in the way she says it ... It's that hesitation. I realize that she knows "that girl" is Leah.

"Yeah. I don't ... I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

I sigh. "Anything."

She laughs. "Have you tried talking to her?"

Now it's my turn to laugh. "Not a chance."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Because she's perfect. And I'm sc.u.m. "There's just no point. She's better than me. She's out of my league, OK?"

Fam snorts. "I don't know what's worse-when guys treat us like s.e.x objects or when they treat us like ... like...G.o.ddesses. I mean, we're just people, Kevin. We stink up the bathroom like anyone else. We're not magic."

Not much to say to that, so I just nod and sit there.

"It doesn't have to be all or nothing. You can be friends with girls, you know."

"Like you?"

"I'm a good role model," she says, preening. I laugh.

When the bell rings, Fam gets up and heads to the ladder. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nah. I'm sitting out gym today."

"Take care of yourself, Kevin."

"I will."

So I stay there for the next period. Away from everyone. I just sit there and look at Leah's picture and wonder what the h.e.l.l I'm doing with my life, with myself, with any of it.

And I think about what Fam said. And about how stupid I am. She's right: Why do I think girls are either G.o.ddesses who can't be bothered with me or not good enough for me? Why am I always on the extreme end?

Well, Kross, it's simple: You miss your mommy.

Ugh. That's stupid. Flip's voice in my head. I don't know where that came from.

I do miss my mom, though. I miss feeling like I matter, like I belong.

Gee, Kross, and here you've been moving heaven and earth to get all kinds of attention. Go figure.

My own voice that time. I tell it to shut up anyway because I don't feel like listening.

Back in the real world, I get busted for skipping gym and sent to the office. Figures. I've blown off enough cla.s.ses that I guess it was inevitable.

Which, really, isn't that bad, since I want to talk to the Doc about more debates anyway.

Today I rate-I get not only Dr. Goethe but also the Spermling.

"This is very disappointing," says Dr. Goethe. The Sperm-ling sighs heavily.

I shrug.

"You could have been a wonderful role model for your cla.s.smates," Goethe goes on, and the Spermling nods righteously. "You could have been an inspiration. Instead, you've..." He trails off, as if he's not sure exactly what I've done.

"I what? I spoke my mind? I encouraged other people to think for themselves? Is that a crime?"

"You didn't go about it in the most mature fashion, Kevin."

"Well, I'm sixteen-what do you want?"

That shuts him up for a second; I don't think he expected that.

"And now, uh, skipping cla.s.ses..." Goethe goes on.

"Just gym."

"Physical fitness is very important," the Doc scolds.

Just then, the Spermling does something that could be a grunt or could be a snort-who knows? He's so fat that he snores even when he's awake. I can't help it-I grin like a smarta.s.s. Yeah, physical fitness is real important. Exhibit One-the Spermling.

"Oh, yeah, totally. Clearly."

The Doc catches my drift, but he just says, "Nonetheless."

Silence. I don't really have a smart retort to "Nonetheless." What a lousy, conversation-killing word.

So I get some chewing out and some detention and I get dismissed.

But then something bizarre and amazing happens.

When I emerge into the murky halls of SBHS, t.i.t comes up to me, breathless, before English starts.

"Kross, where have you been? You missed gym and you-"

"I was meeting with the Doc and the Spermling."

"You missed it! Oh, man, everyone's talking about it! I was there. You missed it."

"Missed what?"

"Crazy J beat the c.r.a.p out of Mr. Kaltenbach in gym!" His eyes dance like someone's flashing a strobe light in his face.

"Really? Are you sure?" Crazy J has beat up just about everyone in the senior cla.s.s at some point. He's a really screwed-up guy, but I've never heard of him beating up a teacher.

"I was there," he says again, as if that explains everything. "Mr. Burger had us inside because of the rain, so we were doing chin-ups. Kaltenbach had the baseball team doing laps around us. And then out of nowhere-wham!" t.i.t smacks a fist into his palm to make the point. "Crazy J hauls off and punches Kaltenbach. Hard. Knocked him right on his a.s.s. He hit his head on the bleachers, man!"

And then...

And then a tiny miracle happens.

By the time I'm out of English, it's like my life's been reset to the day before the library and the Surgeon, and the ribbons, wiped off the South Brook radar screen by Hurricane Crazy J. The hallways are abuzz with talk of Josh Mendel's latest and greatest affront to civilization.

All traces of my celebrity and notoriety have been swept away in the most recent tide of teen scandal. At the end of the day, I head to the parking lot, unnoticed and alone.

How weird.