Alone by Francine Pascal

intervals. That is, until Natasha’s cell phone shattered their peace with its shriek.
    â€œExcuse me,” she said, still smiling, and Tom noted that she turned away from him slightly as she answered.
    â€œHello? Yes. Yes. Da. Okay. I understand.” She said a couple more words in Russian and then closed her phone. Tom looked at her expectantly, but she said nothing.
    Something stirred inside Tom—something dormant, something he’d hoped would stay silent. Old habits die hard, he thought. He felt his old friend suspicion roll over, open its eyes, and tap the monitor next to its hospital bed. This particular habit wasn’t quite dead yet: the habit of suspecting everyone, even those closest to you, of something nefarious.
    He tried to smother it, but there it was: He was suspicious of Natasha. What was that phone call? Why didn’t she fill him in? She just smiled, sat back, and acted like nothing had happened.
    Well, maybe nothing had, Tom thought as he tried to return himself to his peaceful state.
    Maybe.
    Or maybe not.

Total Orgy

    EIGHTY BLOCKS DOWNTOWN, TATIANA sat in a stuffy classroom, trying to keep her mind on the calculus test she was supposed to be ready for. She scanned the page of formulas she had already memorized, making sure every x, y, and pi was burned into her brain, but her eyes wandered out the window. There was Heather, the perfect American girl, poised on the steps at the front of the school. The sun made a rainbow of highlights burst from her long, straight hair. And she always had a distinctive look. Lately she’d been going for that slept-in-her-clothes look, the one that usually only worked on Chloe Sevigny. But what really caught Tatiana’s eye was the way Heather glowed from within, filled with joy and excitement.
    Tatiana followed Heather’s gaze and saw the most massively cute boy standing a few feet away, grinning back. God, he looked like he’d just stepped off a billboard: athletic build; just-right jeans; a tailored, bowling-style shirt casually untucked; and a shock of silky black hair that brushed over his forehead. Heather walked slowly toward him and greeted him by first reaching a hand forward, then letting him draw her in slowly for a sensuous, full-lipped kiss.
    A kiss like the one Ed had given her. After which, by the way, he seemed to have completely forgotten her phone number, e-mail address, and place of residence. Ed seemed to be totally avoiding her.
    Oh God! Was Heather going to take off for a quickie at lunch? Tatiana burned with envy. She tore her eyes away from the decadent display in front of her and tried to focus on the numbers and letters on the page, but they were dancing around, deserting their regular places so they could run off together to the dark corners in the margin and make out. Sixes and nines hopped on top of each other in carnal abandon, and the ones and sevens were having a complete and total orgy with the y’ s. Ugh!
    Tatiana let out a frustrated sigh. What she wouldn’t give to be planted in one of the uncomfortable seats aboard Aeroflot, heading home to Russia right now. She’d spend the whole thirteen-hour flight scrunched between two fat Ukranians if it meant getting away from this stupid city with its annoying people.
    Take Heather, for instance, who didn’t even know how amazing her life was: she was off somewhere making out with Josh Hartnett, and the only care she had in the world was whether to use gel or mousse when she blew out her hair. And Ed, who was so cute and charming and amazing, but would rather moon over the unattainable Gaia than admit that he and Tatiana would be a great couple. And of course Gaia, with all her possessions: boyfriend, beauty, and intelligence—Tatiana could tell she was incredibly sharp and smart, despite how she tried to hide it—Gaia was more interested in making everyone around her uncomfortable to the point of misery than in enjoying her life for