Mark took another long, slow drag of his cigarette, then glanced back over at Jade, who watched him silently, without emotion. To be honest, her silences often scared him, for during times like these, she watched him with a steady, wise, unblinking gaze not unlike how he imagined a living sphinx. She seemed to watch him as though she knew what he was going to say, but would rather hear it from his own lips.

“Hey,” Mark said, trying to lighten the mood a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jade replied, then fell silent again.

“Piece of advice, Princess,” Mark continued. “Don’t start smoking. Do as I say, not as I do, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jade said again. “Trust me, I won’t; I have enough health problems.”

She pulled the shirt-- Mark’s shirt-- more tightly around herself. He stubbed out the cigarette and lightly tousled her hair. Jade smiled a little at this.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Mark asked.

“Life, I guess.”

“For example?”

“Well, I was thinking of that time we first men, and you told me that you felt only a few things are truly eternal. You’ve never told me what they were, even though I’ve asked plenty of times.”

Mark smiled and shrugged a little. “You still haven’t figured it out? Memories and experiences.”

“How so?”

“Well, with both things, you can tell others about them, and they can tell others, and so forth, and your memories could potentially be around long after you’ve died. Also, they change you. Something that happened when you were a little kid, you might not necessarily remember, but in some way, it’s shaped who you are. Even something as minor as your name has influenced who you are.”

“So, you’re saying that when I had my name legally changed, what I really wanted to change was my life?”

“Essentially, yes. You didn’t like how your life as Iris was going, so you decided that as Jade, your life might be better. But your memories of who you were when you were Iris, those will always be with you, no matter what your name is.”


“I wish I could forget my teen years, the ones that made me decide to change my name,” Jade said bluntly.

“Why would you want to do that?” Mark asked. “If you did that, you wouldn’t be the same person you are now.”

“Yeah, I’d be happier.”

“Happiness is overrated. If you were happy all the time, you wouldn’t be human; you’d be a game show host. What matters is whether or not you’ve led the quality of life that you wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jade replied slowly. “But there’s other stuff that I’ve been thinking about.”

“Such as?”

“Just how long do you think this will continue?”

“What?”

“This. Us. Do you really think we’ll keep meeting like this when we’re old and gray?” Jade asked, almost accusingly. “I’m sure if one of us gets married--”

“--I’m never getting married again,” Mark interrupted. “I tried that once before, and it didn’t work out. You’re more of the marrying type than I am.”

Jade scoffed, “What guy would be stupid enough to marry me? But, fine, for the sake of discussion, let’s pretend I did get married. Then what? Will you find a new ‘special friend’?”

“I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. No sense in worrying about things before they happen.”


“I don’t want to do this project,” Mae grumbled. Julia looked over at her, surprised.

“What project?”

“This,” Mae replied, shoving a piece of paper at her friend. Julia silently read it:

Here’s a chance to get an easy “A” on a test! You’re about to graduate in a few months, after years of long and often mind-numbingly dull learning. Undoubtedly, you are a different person now than you were when you first started school all those years ago. Now, it’s time to show it.

You are to put together a scrapbook. This may be done with a notebook, binder, photo album, or any other storage medium you can think of. Now, the fun begins. Anything that you feel defined you or was significant to you-- assignments, photographs, letters, souvenirs, etc.-- are to go into the scrapbook, along with a written explanation of why these items are so important to you. There is no maximum number of items allowed, but you must have a minimum of twelve items (12 photos, 12 report cards, etc.), along with their corresponding explanations. These scrapbooks will be for you to keep and will not be shown to anyone unless you decide to. As long as you follow these guidelines, you will receive an “A,” which will count as a test grade.

There was more information about due dates and so forth. Julia shrugged and returned the paper to Mae. “It doesn’t sound too bad,” Julia remarked. “So, what’s the problem?”

“What the hell am I going to put in there?” Mae snapped. “’On such-and-such day in seventh grade, I chopped off my hair to make myself look like my favorite anime character. Here’s a picture of it.’ Something like that?”

Julia shrugged again and said, “If it was that memorable, go ahead.”


“I don’t know,” Emily muttered. “I mean, yeah, I can talk about what I’ve done academically over the years, but…”

“But what?” Ophelia asked.

“I don’t know. I guess that right now, looking back, it just feels like I haven’t done much with myself, aside from getting good grades.”

“Are you kidding?” Ophelia asked, astonished. “You’ve done plenty. Just this year alone, you were part of CNC, dated a guy you really liked for a long time, and were involved in college play productions. You call that nothing?”

Emily shrugged and said, “Even that just doesn’t seem like very much. I have a ton of awards for being on the ‘A’ honor roll, but… well, sometimes I wish I’d thought more about enjoying myself once in a while. Not worrying so much about getting into trouble.”

“What about the time we skipped class to spy on Charise?” Ophelia suggested. “I mean, maybe that wasn’t fun, seeing her and her mom fighting, but the excitement of breaking rules, for a change.” Emily shook her head in response. Ophelia sighed and said, “Maybe you just need ideas to get you started. Let’s go to Z’s. I’m sure you’ll get some ideas there.”