Not The Sun - 1. Chapter One: Brandon

Blank, thought Brandon, scowling because there was nothing to put onto it. He pushed away from his desk. He hated days like this, when his energy was low, his ideas flat and his creativity almost non-existent. And he hated Sundays in general, just on principle. Useless day.

He loved to sketch. He was an artist--a good one, proficient in many mediums--but he liked sketching more than anything, the smooth lines of pencil on paper. Lately, however, he felt... frustrated, bored. There wasn't anything new to draw, nothing exciting, just the same old shit.

His fingers, always moving, nervous and clumsy except when he was drawing, started to pick at his fingernails, scraping off flakes of dark blue polish. He picked up a pencil, started a quick rough sketch of his hand, lost his focus after a few lines, and tore the page out of his sketch pad. He crumpled it up in a ball and threw it across the room where it hit the wall with a dull thump and fell back to the ground.

He growled, then stood up and left his room. He passed his older sister in the hallway, talking on her cell phone. She was in college now and visited home on a rare weekend to see her friends from high school. His little sister Kelly, was sitting in the kitchen doing her homework when he walked in to get a Coke. "What's up lil' pup?"

Kelly rolled her eyes. "When are you going to get tired of that stupid saying?"

"Probably the same time you start wearing mascara and kissing boys."

Kelly wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

Brandon laughed. "Keep that attitude, lil' sis, so I don't have to wear myself out chasing away potential suitors."

Kelly scowled and shoved her paper at him. "Here, check this. And stop being weird."

"I'll never stop being weird. It scares all the normals," he said, scanning the sheet. "Here." He placed the sheet back in front of her and circled one of the problems. "You added instead of subtracted and this one-" He circled another problem. "You didn't carry the three."

Kelly frowned and scrubbed the answers out with her eraser, muttering a thank you that sounded distinctly ungrateful. He went back upstairs, sat down at his desk and drank his Coke. He could hear his older sister chatting from within her room and turned up his stereo, blasting out heavy metal at louder and louder volumes until his sister screamed at him to turn it down. He hoped to annoy her into leaving early.

He grabbed his sketchpad again, the loud music and caffeine soothing a little bit of his frustration. He had to draw something; it was driving him crazy. Something new, something new...

His mind focused and settled and he started to draw. He could draw anything he wanted, but did not find much fun or excitement in still life or landscapes, nor did he consider himself imaginative enough to draw fantasy stuff, like fairies and shit. He loved drawing portraits, had done several of Kelly and used to give out a couple to teachers he really liked at the end of the year. He stopped when his art teacher had taken one he had done of her and had hung it up in her classroom. It had deeply embarrassed him. But he loved drawing people, bodies and faces that didn't even realize how fucking beautiful they were.

He started one now, of a guy at his school who was fairly new, a transfer that had shown up a couple weeks after school had started. Brandon hadn't paid much attention to him even though they had shared several classes, because this kid looked and dressed far too preppy for Brandon's interest, and it was pretty clear which of the little cliques that populated the school the new kid would be absorbed into and it wasn't going to be Brandon's motley group of geeks and freaks.

Still, Brandon reflected as he drew, the kid was a good subject. He had great bone structure and a face that held carefully guarded expression... one that was intriguing to work with.

He worked for a long time on it, longer than normal, but he liked getting every detail down, honing it to a fine edge of perfection. He was pleased when he finally put his pencil down and studied it. It was a drawing of the kid from Physics class, his chin propped up in his hand and his eyes staring down at his textbook. His expression clearly read "I've done this all before and I'm bored." It wasn't quite the same memory that Brandon had culled from his mind, but it was close. He remembered glancing over at the kid--God, what was his name?-- during class and seeing that expression and almost laughing out loud. It was so fucking perfect.

A loud knock on the door startled him from his thoughts and he went over to open it. His older sister stood glowering on the other side. He turned down his stereo apologetically.

“I’m heading back to school, you little punk; gimmie a hug,” she growled, and gave him a hard, unforgiving embrace, cracking her fists against his spine. He squawked and she chuckled. “Take care,” she said, giving him another hug, a real one, and ruffled his carefully styled hair.

“Not the hair!” he protested, pushing her away. She simply laughed and went vaulting down the stairs. He grinned as he shut the door.

When his alarm rung early Monday, Brandon moaned, pulled his pillow over his head and swatted at his alarm clock until it went silent. Blinking and squinting, he stretched hugely until his body sang and then stumbled out of bed, feeling light headed and tired.

Most of his time every morning was spent fixing his appearance. He had an outside image that expressed something that was different than what was inside, and he thought it was fucking awesome. His friends had gotten him into the style he wore. He had one that was a punk and another that was a cybergoth and he himself fell somewhere in between the two. He liked it though; another form of art, his body the canvas, the clothing and accessories the medium. In school, however, everyone was stuck wearing a uniform, but hair and accessories were fair game, so he settled on focusing most of his attention on that.

He grabbed his books, stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth on his way out the door then inwardly cursed as he saw the bus pulling away. Great. Now he would have to walk at least to the city bus stop, ride to the stop nearest the school and probably walk a little further from there. He would never make it on time. Way to start a Monday. He sighed and started down the street. A car, a small compact Honda pulled up beside him, the window rolling down.

“Hey.”

Brandon looked over and bent down to look in the open window. It was him, the new kid that he had been thinking about yesterday. He remembered his name, finally. Jordan.

"Hey," Brandon said, intensely uncomfortable. There was no reason for him to be speaking to him, or to even be in his neighborhood.

"Want a ride?"

"Huh?" Brandon stared at him outright. What the hell?

"A ride. To school," Jordan clarified.

"I'm good, thanks."

"C'mon. I want to talk to you."

"Right. About what?"

Jordan smiled and nodded to the interior of the car. "C'mon. I'll tell you on the way to school."

Brandon looked around, sighing in annoyance. "Fine." He opened the door, slid inside and dropped his bag down onto the floor. He slumped down in his seat then pulled his safety belt on.

Despite Jordan's insistence that he wanted to talk, he said nothing as he drove through the streets towards the school. Brandon studied him discreetly from his lowered lashes during that brief respite. Jordan had the classic all American good looks... blond hair, bright blue eyes and a perfect white smile. He was well built--not skinny and lanky like Brandon himself was. He looked every bit like the perfect prep school student and the polar opposite of himself. Probably made straight A's and played football or lacrosse.

"Um...you wanted to talk?" Brandon prompted.

"Kinda." Jordan glanced at him. "Wanted to get to know you a little bit."

"Why?"

Jordan shrugged. "I'll tell you later."

Brandon looked out the car window, feeling the back of his neck grow hot and itchy.

"So... you're new right?" Brandon finally said.

"Yeah. Just moved here."

"From where?"

"Chicago."

"Must be a big difference."

"I guess."

"Look... I'm not sure what you're trying to-" Brandon started.

"You called me yesterday," Jordan interrupted.

Brandon looked up. "Um...you must be mistaken."

"I'm not. I heard you loud and clear."

"Look, I didn't call anyone yesterday; I didn't even pick up the phone. Maybe someone-"

"Right. I get it. You're an artist, correct?"

Brandon was a little thrown by Jordan's sudden change of subject. "Yeah."

"I bet you drew a picture of me, didn't you? Yesterday afternoon?"

They had reached the school, but Brandon hardly noticed as the car came to a gentle stop in the parking lot. He was still trying to wrap his mind around that last statement.

"How did you know that?" he asked, his heart beating high and fast in his throat. He felt incredulous and embarrassed at the same time... incredulous because Jordan had known he had drawn him, and embarrassed for the exact same reason.

"Yeah," Jordan said and unbuckled his seatbelt. "I kinda need to explain that to you."

Suddenly very spooked, Brandon didn't even wait to hear Jordan's explanation, but instead opened up at the door and stepped out. Wherever this was going to lead, he had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like it. This new kid was just too fucking weird.

"Listen," Jordan began, also climbing out of the car, but Brandon cut him off.

"No, you listen. I don't know what kind of fucked up shit you're trying to pull here, but I can tell you right now, I'm not going to fall for it, so why don't you just save yourself some time and find some other dumb sap to pull this-"

"Shut up," Jordan snapped, and the strength and authority backing up his voice actually surprised Brandon enough to quiet him momentarily. "I know what kind of people you run around with and you know what kind of people I hang out with. You know as well as I do that I wouldn't be caught talking to a guy like you if it wasn't important. But we do need to talk."

During this little speech, Jordan had reached over the hood of the car and placed his hand over Brandon’s. Brandon felt his arms breakout in goose bumps as his palm gathered sweat. Jordan's hand was warm and strong on top of his, and his mouth was painfully dry. His head spinning and his stomach turning, he yanked his hand away, turned and walked towards the school. He felt a blossoming relief in his chest when he saw the familiar form of his friend Alexis in the crowd and ran to catch up with her.

"Hey, sexy."

Alexis turned and smiled at him. She was very short and very round, with a cherubic face, heavily made up. Her dark black hair was hanging loose with two hot pink pigtails sprouting off the top of her head.

"Heeey," Brandon said again, tilting her face up and studying the new labret piercing protruding from underneath her lip. "When did this happen?"

"Saturday night. I have a friend whose older brother works for a piercing place and he did it for fifty percent off, and I didn't have to show him an ID or anything," she announced proudly.

"What did your parents say?"

"They freaked out." Alexis shrugged with obviously little concern. "They'll get over it. So what were you talking to Mr. All American about?"

Damn, Brandon thought. If she had noticed, who else might have seen them?

"Nothing," he mumbled. "He's weird."

"Have you heard from Leia?" Alexis asked.

"Nu-uh. Why?"

"I saw her this weekend. She's in some serious shit."

"No way," Brandon said, opening his locker. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you about it at lunch, but I have to go right now. The newspaper is having a meeting before classes start. Later!"

Alexis ran off and Brandon pulled out his books, worrying about what had happened to Leia. Andrew came by and slammed his head against the lockers next to Brandon. "I am so hung-over," he groaned. Brandon slammed his locker shut and grinned as Andrew grimaced at the sound.

"Teach you to go drinking without me, asshole," Brandon said cheerfully. "C'mon, let's go."

Andrew, his long hair pulled up into a Mohawk of tall purple tinged spikes, draped his arm around Brandon shoulders as they walked down the hall.

"Kill me man," Andrew muttered.

"Suck it up, you pussy," Brandon teased.

Brandon didn't care much for school. English was stupid, Physics was boring and Spanish was full of incredibly dumb people, the large majority of them cheerleaders and jocks. He wished that the school offered some languages that might actually be cool to learn, like Japanese or Russian. All they offered were Spanish, French and German, and what self respecting person would want to go around speaking German all the time? That language didn't even sound nice.

He almost liked Anatomy, because he shared it with Alexis, Andrew and Leia, if she had been there, and you got to cut up dead kittens. But it was also right before lunch, and it was hard to work up an appetite with the smell of formaldehyde all over your hands and the sight of an animal's inner viscera a little too vivid in your mind. Math was right after lunch, a perfect place to catch a nap if you were careful, then Shop class, where you could play with a lot of fun equipment that could maim, burn, and cause other grievous injuries if one of the guys in class started acting like a jerk. And even then you could claim it was an accident. His teacher also had one finger missing up to the second joint, and God, he couldn't wait to hear that story.

He sidled up to Alexis after Anatomy and asked her again about Leia. She looked around and followed him on the way to the cafeteria. “She’s prego.”

Brandon’s eyes got huge. "No shit... Leia?”

“What about Leia?” Andrew asked, coming up behind them. “Why didn’t she come in today?”

“She got knocked up,” Brandon said.

“Shit! By who?”

Brandon looked at Alexis, who shrugged. “I don’t know. Hell, I never would have known she was pregnant if I hadn’t seen the test in her bathroom waste bin. She’s not saying a word about it, but she’s upset.” She looked at Andrew and Brandon. “Will one of you talk to her, please?”

Brandon shrugged. “Sure, let’s go over there now. I don’t mind missing class.” He glanced at Andrew to see if he would be willing to drive Brandon over there.

“Yeah,” Andrew said without Brandon having to say anything. “Let’s go.”

Andrew, followed by Alexis in her own car, stopped by a Subway near the school, and they ate in the car on the way to Leia’s neighborhood. When they knocked on the door, Leia’s mom answered. “Why aren’t you kids in school?” she asked in a way of greeting.

“It's a half day,” Alexis said without batting an eye. “We came to find out why Leia didn’t show up.”

"She's ill. Throwing up all morning," Leia's mother said, standing aside and letting them come inside. "She's in her room. You can go up."

"Thanks," Alexis said brightly.

Leia was sitting on the floor, back against the bed, playing PREY on her X Box 360 with a mindless determination. Her lights were off and her shades were drawn, casting the entire room in a murky, feeble darkness. She glanced up at them, offered them a tired "Hey" then returned her eyes to the screen, paying them no more attention. Alexis sat down next to Leia and Andrew collapsed on Leia's bed. Alexis put a tentative hand on Leia's shoulder and Leia shrugged it off. Alexis turned her eyes to Brandon, still standing near the door, and raised her eyebrows. Brandon knew that look. It was Alexis' 'Get the fuck over here and make her talk' look. Dammit. Why was he always the one who had to deal with this kind of shit?

"Hey, Leia," he said, kneeling down in front of her. She frowned and shifted around him, trying to see the screen. Brandon reached behind him and turned off the X Box. Leia sighed.

"Dammit, why are you guys bothering me?" Leia's face looked painfully young and sad looking without her make-up on.

"You weren't at school today. What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm sick."

"C'mon, Leia, talk to us. Tell us what's going on."

"Nothing is going on. Leave me alone."

"Something is going on, Leia, this isn't like you."

"Then leave."

Brandon sighed. Leia was the quiet one of the group. Quiet, smart with a very, very dark sense of humor, but this was totally unlike her. She was often depressed, but she would never ask them to leave. Would never really be assertive enough to.

"Leia-” Alexis started.

“We heard you got knocked up,” Andrew interrupted.

That got a reaction.

“Shut up!” she hissed. “Christ, you want my mother to hear you?”

“She doesn’t know?” Alexis asked.

“No-one knows,” Leia said. "Only you guys and-and-" Leia's lips began to tremble, before her face crumpled and she started to cry, bringing a hand up to cover her face as she broke into sobs. Alexis crawled over and embraced her.

"So it's for real, huh?" Alexis asked softly.

Leia nodded against her shoulder.

Andrew knelt down next to Leia, pulled her back to look her in the face. “What happened, Leia?”

“He-He said he loved me,” Leia said, sniffing and wiping at her nose. Brandon looked around and passed her a box of Kleenex, earning him a teary smile. “He was so-so sweet. Brought me flowers, sent me sweet emails, and swore to me he had been waiting all his life to meet someone like me, so we-we did it. I was so in love with him.” Leia sniffed, and her chest started to jerk like she was going to sob again, but she held it off. “And when I missed one of my cycles, I took the test. And I thought if I told him, maybe he would help me take care of it or, you know, want to get married or something.” She laughed and the sound of it was so broken and bitter that it made Brandon shiver. “I was a fool.”

“What did he say baby?” Andrew asked, rubbing her shoulder.

“He-he denied ever sleeping with me. Said he didn’t know who I had quote “whored up with”, but that it wasn’t him. He called me crazy.”

“Who is this guy, Princess?” Brandon asked, calling her by her childhood nickname. Princess Leia; she always got a kick of out that. “Tell me who he is so I can go and fucking kill him.”

Leia shook her head.

“Come on, baby girl, tell us,” Andrew said. “Don’t worry, I’ll help Brandon kill him, and then we’ll alibi each other.”

Leia laughed again, but humor was still gone. “He’s one of the Untouchables.” She shook her head. “No-one is going to take my word over his, and even if I can prove it’s his, his dad can get my mom fired and-” She shook her head and ran a hand over her cheek, attempting to wipe away her tears. “God, I haven’t even told my mom. After all the times she told me not to end up as a single mother the way she did-”

“Didn’t you use protection?” Alexis asked timidly.

“Yeah.” Leia let out another one of those humorless laughs. Brandon was really beginning to hate hearing them. “Of course I did. I guess the condom broke. That’s all we had. I never thought this would happen. God, what am I going to do?”

Leia curled up and started to cry again. Andrew picked her up and sat down with her on the bed, rocking her back and forth. Alexis, looking embarrassed, stared at the floor, and Brandon stared at the wall without really seeing it, processing the information. Something about Leia’s story wasn’t quite clicking, but he couldn’t figure it out.

“Are you going to abort it?” he finally asked.

“I can’t afford it,” Leia bit out.

“I have six hundred dollars in the bank,” Andrew said.

“I have about three hundred,” Brandon piped up.

“I have two fifty,” Alexis offered.

Leia smiled. “Thanks guys, but this is my fault, my problem. I’ll deal with it. Besides, I don’t know if I can kill it.”

“Leia, this is not your fault. It’s the fault of that asshole who used you and dumped you,” Brandon said.

Leia frowned, moving away from Andrew. “Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," she said sarcastically. "Stupid, gullible Leia, huh?”

Brandon felt like kicking himself. That wasn’t what he meant. “That wasn’t-”

“I know. Sorry, I’m just--” Leia lifted her hands and then dropped them back at her sides again. She waited a minute before speaking again. “Thanks for coming by, guys, I’m sorry to worry you. I’ll go back to school tomorrow. I just-I needed some time to myself to think things over. You guys can go; I’ll be okay.”

Alexis kissed her on the top of the head. “You know you can talk to me anytime, babe.”

“Yeah, yeah. And for God’s sake, Alexis, don’t tell anyone else about this.”

“Gotcha.” Alexis winked. “I wouldn’t have told these jerk offs, but you know, they kinda like you and all. See ya.”

Brandon and Andrew left a few minutes later. Alexis had already gone, driving back to her own house on the other side of town.

"Dammit!" Andrew said as soon as they got into his car, punching the steering wheel. "Goddamn, Leia, how could you be so stupid!"

Brandon didn't say anything. He was still trying to work his head around the idea that not only had Leia dated an Untouchable, which was about as far from their strange little clique as you could get, but that she had done it without anyone else noticing and had now found herself in a situation where she was pregnant and alone.

"She's not," Brandon said softly.

"What?"

"She's not that stupid. Leia's one of the smartest damn people I know. She wouldn't-" Brandon rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead, unable to figure out how to express what he was trying to say. "I don't understand how this could happen. Leia's too smart."

"Love makes people stupid. Turns them into fucking idiots," Andrew growled, throwing his car into gear and taking off down the street.

The rest of the ride back was made in absolute silence. Andrew got really quiet when he got mad enough, and Brandon was still trying to figure out what was going on. Leia was too smart, too savvy to fall for an Untouchable, to do something so careless, no matter how in love she was. And the way she had told the story was too smoothly flowing, too coherent, too scripted. Something wasn't clicking, but he couldn't figure out what.

Andrew dropped him off at his house. It was earlier than he would normally be home from school, but his parents worked during the day and his sister always got home after he did anyway, so it didn’t matter. He fixed a snack for Kelly and left it on the counter, then went upstairs and took a nap. When he woke up, he went downstairs to check on Kelly, went back upstairs, did some homework, then opened his sketchpad, drew a portrait of Leia with that small sad smile, remembering the bitter sound of herself depreciating laughter.

Maybe... He sighed and tapped the pencil against his lips. Maybe her story did make sense, and he just didn't want it to, didn't want to see it. Yeah, Leia was smart and she was tough, but Leia was also a person, someone who made mistakes and wanted to be loved just like everyone else. Andrew was his best friend, but Leia had been someone he always held in highest regard because she was smart and sophisticated and classy in a way that most Goths just couldn't master.

To cheer himself up, he drew a portrait of Kelly, smiling with her braces, and then, because he couldn’t stop thinking about it, drew a portrait of Jordan, the intense, determined expression on his face from that morning.

You called me.

What the hell did that mean? He didn't even know his phone number. And how did he know he drew a picture of him? Lucky guess. He drew pictures of everybody.

By the time he was done, his hand and fingers ached. He stretched his fingers, cracking the knuckles, rubbed at the callus that had formed from where the pencil rested against the side of his finger. He ate, took a shower and chatted on the Internet before going to bed. It was a normal evening.

Leia still wasn’t at school the next day. During lunch, Brandon studied a group of students at another table. The Untouchables were easy to spot; they always had the most expensive clothes, the newest, trendiest hairstyles and the latest electronic gadgets. Most of them were in some kind of school club or organization. He studied them carefully, wondering which one could seduce Leia, fill her cynical, sardonic head with pretty words and promise then leave her the broken girl he had seen yesterday. He felt rage bubbling up in his chest, made hotter by his frustration at his helplessness.

He was throwing his books that he wouldn’t need that night into his locker after his last class when Jordan approached him again.

"Listen,” he said before Brandon could say anything. “I know that you don’t like me and that's fine, it's not going to break my heart or anything, but I still really need to talk to you."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," Brandon replied, slamming his locker shut.

"I think you are. It involves your friend. It involves Leia," Jordan said quietly. Brandon looked up at him, his eyes wide.

"What do you mean?"

Jordan nodded his head towards the doors of the school. "Come on, let me take you home. We can talk about it."

Brandon scowled but followed him out the door. He usually had Andrew drop him off at his house, but Andrew would know that if he wasn't waiting for him at his locker, he had found another way to get home. "So, what do you know about Leia?" Brandon asked as they walked out in the parking lot.

"I know that she's in trouble. I am well aware of her current situation," Jordan said, approaching his Honda. Brandon grabbed Jordan's shirt, banging him up against the car. The car alarm started blaring, but Brandon ignored it. "Was it you? You fucking bastard, are you the one who got her knocked up?"

"No. But I know who did."

"How? How would you know if you weren't the one?"

"I will tell you, but there's more to the story than what you know. Let go of me and I'll explain everything I can. Some of it will sound absolutely unbelievable, but I need you to trust me to tell you the truth."

Brandon released him and Jordan turned the car alarm off. Brandon was suddenly aware that everyone in the parking lot had paused in their business to watch their confrontation and felt the back of his neck heat up. He hated causing a scene. He slid into the car and slumped down in the seat.

Jordan pulled out of his spot, letting the car idle in the parking lot while waiting for traffic to clear out. "Can we talk at your place? Privately?"

"Yeah," Brandon said. "My sister will be there, but she goes straight to the kitchen to eat and do her homework. We can talk upstairs in my room."

"Good," Jordan said. Brandon was burning with questions, but the impression he had so far was that Jordan didn't really like to talk while driving, so he let the silence ride until they pulled up into Brandon's driveway.

Brandon got out of the car and walked into the house without waiting for Jordan to follow him. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a Coke from the fridge. "You want one?" he asked, hearing Jordan's footsteps enter the room.

"No thanks." Brandon shrugged and led Jordan up to his room. Brandon sat down crossed legged on his bed. Jordan looked around and sat in Brandon's desk chair, loosening his tie.

"Start talking." Brandon said.

"Before I tell you about Leia, I need to let you know a little bit about what's going on with you and me, or else it won't make sense. This is going to sound really weird, understand?"

"Weird is my life," Brandon replied.

"Let me start by asking you a question. You are an artist, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Jordan closed his eyes and ran a hand over his hair. "I'll try to present this in a way that will make sense." He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Whenever someone creates, through drawing a picture, writing a poem, or telling a story, they aren't just making stuff up. They are creating."

"Isn't that the same as making stuff up?" Brandon interrupted, being careful to make sure his voice conveyed what he wanted it to--amused skepticism.

"No. Do you read science fiction novels or watch sci-fi movies?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Are you familiar with the ideas of... alternate universes, parallel realities?"

"Somewhat."

"There are other realities, whole worlds other than the one we exist in. Alternate dimensions, kind of. When a person draws a picture of something, they are bringing that thing into existence. Not here, not where you can hold it, feel it, manipulate it, but in a different reality, one we cannot touch. Whatever you draw comes into existence somehow. It exists, because you made it so, but not here."

Brandon raised his eyebrows. He was trying to look like he was amused or just humoring Jordan, but the truth was, he was a little intrigued by what he was hearing. "Interesting theory. So what is this alternative dimension like?"

"Dimensions, plural."

"How many are there?"

"I have no idea. Each time a Creator creates, a dimension is created for that object to exist in. There's a countless number."

"Dimensions, then. What are they like?"

Jordan shrugged. "Depends on what you create."

"So, if I drew an apple, a dimension would be created for it?"

"If that was what it required, yes. But if you drew an apple on a talking tree guarding the yellow brick road in the Land of Oz, no. There would already be a dimension for it. See?"

He didn't, not really. "It's an interesting story. What does it have to do with me?" He smiled. "Want to team up to turn this story into a comic book or something?"

"You're not taking me seriously. You're not listening."

"Yes, I am listening. And no, I'm not taking you seriously."

"Okay. Do me a favor." Jordan sounded the tiniest bit frustrated. "Draw something."

"What?"

Jordan gestured to his sketchpad on the desk. "Draw something."

"I heard you the first time. What the hell do you want me to draw?"

Jordan shrugged. "Whatever. A pencil."

"Okay." Brandon sat down at his desk when Jordan got up, then glared at the teenager hovering near his shoulder. "I can't do it with you watching me."

Jordan rolled his eyes and turned away, walked to the other side of the room and examined the selection of books on Brandon's bookshelf.

Brandon finished the drawing quickly, and since it was such a simple piece, added some shading, shadows, little details like the no. 2 stamp near the tip.

"Good job."

Brandon started a little, then turned and scowled. "I told you not to watch."

"But you're done."

Brandon put down his pencil and sighed. "I guess."

"Okay. So this pencil you just drew, it's hanging in its own dimension here, right?" Jordan said.

Brandon shrugged. "Sure."

"I want you to focus on it. And I mean it; this isn't going to work if you don't take it seriously. Imagine that it's real. Imagine that you can see it, smell it, and feel it in your hand." Jordan's voice had dropped, low and soft near Brandon's ear.

Brandon focused on the picture, focused hard, remembering how a freshly sharpened pencil would always bring him back to the first day of school, the smell of it and chalk and the dry paper smell, the first time he placed a pencil to the paper on his desk and drew that first line. Focused on that pencil; the dark tip, the smooth wooden body, focusing, focusing, hardly even noticing Jordan's hand slip into his and hold on tight. Jordan’s other hand touched the drawing, fingers brushing the dark lines, the gray shades. The drawing seemed to waver slightly, popped into a slight 3D perspective and then, in front of Brandon's astonished eyes, the pencil was there on top of the paper, just like that, whole and solid and smelling just the way Brandon knew it would. Jordan dropped the pencil into Brandon's hand. Brandon stared at it, turned it over in his fingers. It was perfect. Every detail, down to the no. 2 he had drawn in there, it was a perfect replica. Except it wasn't a replica, couldn't be, because the sheet of paper he had drawn it on was perfectly blank.

Brandon dropped the pencil like it was on fire. "Jesus mother-fucking Christ," he said.