"Taelor!"

I sprinted through the clumps of people crowding around in the subway, trying to catch up to my estranged best friend. I'll admit it had been a little weird, going so long without talking to Taelor, and I really did miss her. And besides, she'd been totally right. She sometimes was, even more so when it came to guys.

Damn. It was time for some serious groveling.

"Taelor!" I gasped out, clutching at her forearm when I finally caught up to her.

She stopped midstep and whipped around to glare at me, a murderous look on her face. I would've been completely freaked out if she didn't look just the slightest bit ridiculous, all angry and pissed off when she was dressed in her totally glamerous designer clothes.

"Well?" Taelor practically hissed, her eyes narrowed.

"You were right," I panted, trying to catch my breath. "You were totally right."

Taelor frowned, momentarily distracted. "What do you mean?"

"I like Archer," I blurted out. "I like Archer a lot."

She stood there with a completely baffled look on her face for several moments, long enough for me to think something was going wrong with her thought processing. But then she surprised me beyond belief when a huge smile broke out across her face and she clutched at my shoulders with a squeal, giving me a little shake.

"I so knew it!" she shouted, making me wince. "I so knew you had a thing for him!"

My face turned a little red against my will and I scowled, looking away from her in embarrassment. "Okay...well, you were right."

Taelor smirked, looking insanely smug. "Of course I am. I'm totally right about everything all the time."

I fought back a snort. Right. Okay.

We shuffled onto the train, lucky enough to actually snag seats towards the back and not have to stand up. I clutched my school bag to my chest while the train took off, just the slightest bit nervous. Taelor had this look on her face that would've given the Cheshire cat a run for its money, and I knew this couldn't be good at all.

"So?"

I glanced over at Taelor, biting my lip. "What?"

Taelor stared at me me in an are-you-really-as-stupid-as-you-seem-right-now way. "Don't just what me! How can you drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to ask for details?"

I blew out a sigh, rolling my eyes. Clearly that was a mistake on my part.

"Well..." I trailed off. "What exactly do you want to know?"

Taelor gave me an shove, making me knock into the surly looking woman beside me. I quickly apologized to the now scowling woman before glaring over at Taelor. She didn't look phased in the slightest.

"What?" she said innocently, shrugging a shoulder.

I rolled my eyes again with a scoff. "Nice, Taelor."

"Well!" she squeaked again, shaking my shoulder. "Tell me! Does he like you? Does he know you like him?"

I thought about that for a moment, and then my face burned bright red. I decided not to answer that question. Unfortunately, that told Taelor more than she needed to know.

"Oh my god!" she squealed. "He so likes you!"

"You don't even know him, Taelor," I laughed without thinking. "So you couldn't possibly tell whether or not he likes me. He's honestly the most confusing person I've ever met."

Taelor heaved a sigh, as if everything that was wrong in the world with men rested on her shoulders. "My dear, dear Hadley, cleary you have much more to learn about boys if you're just now beginning to think that they're confusing."

I snorted out a laugh. "Right, Taelor. Okay."

"Details, Hadley, details," she said, snapping her fingers. "I need them."

"There's not much to tell," I said as easily as I could manage. "We just started hanging out over break. That's about it."

"Just hanging out?" Taelor said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Just hanging out!"

Well, apart from the time where we made out in the coffee house's kitchen. But that was about it.

"The look on your face says otherwise," Taelor said shiftily, crossing her arms over her chest.

Please let this train ride be over soon, please let this train ride be over soon. That phrase was going through my head like a mantra over and over again while Taelor continued to give me a look that made me feel like I was standing underneath a hot spotlight.

Fortunately for me, the train came to a squealing stop a moment later, before Taelor could interrogate me any further. I jumped to my feet and quickly fought my way off the train through clumps of people. Taelor wasn't far behind, following suit, and I had a feeling she wasn't about to let this subject drop in the near future.

Considering her tenacious attitude, it was bound to have happened sooner or later.

"Hadley! Hey, wait up, Hadley!"

I turned and waited impatiently for Taelor to catch up with me through the clumps of people in the subway, while she continued to look like a lunatic.

"I don't understand why you're getting so worked up over this, Taelor," I told her as we fought our way up the stairs. "It's not like you even like Archer, anyways. You've made your opinion on him perfectly clear."

"So?" Taelor snorted. "I've been waiting for you to actually have some sort of involvement with a guy ever since we started high school. I could care less who the guy is."

I gave her a raised eyebrow look. "Thanks, Taelor."

Taelor scoffed and rolled her eyes, giving me another shove. "Oh, you know what I mean, Hadley."

Funnily enough, I suppose I did.

Things seemed to be falling back into our normal routine between Taelor and I as we headed towards school. I continued to stand around like an idiot while Taelor blabbed on and on about how her break went - what new things she bout, how the food at the restaurant she went to with her parents for Thanksgiving was - the usual. Taelor didn't seem to mind so much, as she didn't see anything was wrong. I was "Hmm"ing and "Ah"ing at the appropriate times, so apparently that was good enough for her.

But truth be told, my mind was on other more important matters, rather than Taelor's new obsession with Bloomingdale's high heels.

Sometime over the past two days of Thanksgiving vacation, I'd come to the conclusion that I was going to have to talk to Mrs. Anderson whether I wanted to or not. If what Havoc had told me really was true, then she'd have a few pointers on how I can help Archer, right? And it wasn't as if Death had told me that I couldn't ask other people for help, rather than himself.

I was still having a little troube believing what I'd heard - Havoc seemed like the type of person to totally screw me over on something like this - but there was only one way to figure out the truth. I was going to have to talk to Mrs. Anderson for myself.

Perhaps it was sheer dumb luck on my part that my homeroom teacher happened to be Mrs. Anderson. That gave me the perfect opportunity to talk to her about what was going on. I just hoped that everything was going to go alright and that she wouldn't start shouting at me in German.

I was a little surprised when Taelor and I walked through the main entrance of the school, being surrounded by other teens that looked just as enthused and ecstatic about starting more school as we did. I'd been so caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn't even been paying attention to where my feet were carrying me.

"So," Taelor said, practically skipping along beside me. "Are you going to talk to Archer today?"

I scowled. "Yes."

"And what are you going to talk to him about?" Taelor asked, giving me another suggestive look.

Honestly, I wanted to ask him why the hell he'd kissed me that night, but I figured that this was probably not the right time for that. As much as I wanted to kiss Archer again and again, there were more pressing matters at hand. Archer was more important.

"Nothing of consequence," I finally told Taelor, shifting my school bag awkwardly.

Taelor didn't look convinced. I had to give her credit. She wasn't as stupid as a lot of people thought she was.

"I'll see you later, then," Taelor said, her voice full of suggestion before she flounced off down the hallway.

Well, that was one thing over and done with. Now on to Mrs. Anderson.

I stopped by my locker to drop off all of the textbooks I'd taken home with me over break and then headed to homeroom, my heart beating all the more faster as I walked.

It wasn't that I was exactly nervous, but I was pretty freaked out about this whole thing. My hand was still burning from where it'd been cut Friday night. Whenever I had a minute to myself, the conversation I'd had with Havoc would replay itself in my mind. I was beginning to get very scared of everything that was happening. Not only was I afraid for Archer, but I was beginning to get afraid for myself, too. The gash on my hand was pretty disgusting, and if that was anything to go by, I might be in for a lot more trouble.

Mrs. Anderson was seated at her desk when I walked into the classroom. Her glasses were slightly askew and she looked lost in thought, her lips moving with slight words as she read something in front of her. This wasn't any different from any other day, but after what I'd discovered over break, I couldn't help but look at Mrs. Anderson in a totally different light.

I took my normal seat in the middle of the classroom, setting my bag in my lap and clutching at it tightly. Everything seemed to be going along normally today, but I couldn't help but feel that something was very different now. I had no idea what it was, but I wasn't so sure I liked it.

The bell rang on schedule a few moments later and my classmates around me quieted down enough for Mrs. Anderson to get up and start reading off the list of annoucements the staff apparently thought we needed to know.

I barely paid attention to what Mrs. Anderson was saying at all. I just kept staring at her with a fascinated look on my face. I just couldn't see how this ditzy, hair-brained teacher could have done something as serious as saving someone's life. Call it harsh or whatever you wanted, but it was the truth.

I jerked in surprise when the ball rang, signaling the start of first period, and the teens around me started getting to their feet and leaving the room.

I stayed sitting in my seat, not quite sure of how I was supposed to go about this. I got the feeling that going up to Mrs. Anderson and saying, "Hey, I heard you stopped someone from committing suicide," wasn't quite that acceptable.

Mrs. Anderson had returned to her seat at her desk and was back to reading whatever she'd been reading before and didn't seem to notice that I was still sitting there.

I coughed loudly, trying to call attention to myself without saying anything.

Mrs. Anderson glanced up in surprise and looked over at me with a confused look on her face, like she couldn't believe I was still sitting here.

"What're you still doing here, Miss Jamison?" Mrs. Anderson said in a shocked voice.

I awkwardly got to my feet and walked over towards her desk, still scared that something could go wrong in the next few minutes.

"Miss Jamison?" Mrs. Anderson repeated, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

I had no idea what to say to even begin this conversation, but it had to start somewhere, right? So I did the only thing I could think of at the moment, which was to pull up my jacket sleeve and show her the marking on my wrist - the number 14 on my wrist. Two weeks was all I had left at this point.

Mrs. Anderson stared at my wrist for several moments, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and then she gasped, her glasses slipping down her nose as she leaned back in her seat as far as she could.

I shook my sleeve down and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for Mrs. Anderson to get her composure back. She was gasping like she had a very bad case of asthma, and I was worried for a second that she was going to pass out.

"How...how did you get that?" Mrs. Anderson finally asked in a hushed voice, her face very pale.

I took a deep breath, swallowing hard. "I'm supposed...supposed to...to..."

I couldn't get out the rest of my sentence. It was like someone had suddenly messed with my vocal chords and I was incapable of speech.

But thankfully Mrs. Anderson seemed to get what I was trying to splutter out. She took off her glasses with a sigh and placed them on her desk before folding her hands together in front of her.

"Who is it?" she asked quietly, staring down at her hands.

I gaped. "What?"

"Who is it?" Mrs. Anderson said again, staring up at me now. "Who are you supposed to be stopping?"

"Archer," I managed to answer shakily. "Archer Morales."

So what Havoc had told me really had been true. Mrs. Anderson really did save someone's life.

I was so bowled over by the news that I could have let out a loud bout of elated laughter.

"Archer Morales," Mrs. Anderson said with a frown. "I know who that is. Poor, poor boy. That's not going to be easy for you to do."

Well, she was definitely right about that one. I didn't need her to tell me that.

"Mrs. Anderson..." I trailed off slowly, rocking back on my heels. "What am I supposed to do?"

Mrs. Anderson pursed her lips, a pained look coming into her eyes. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Hadley."

I let out an exasperated sigh and threw my hands in the air. "Oh, great. Just another person to tell me I'm going to fail at this."

Mrs. Anderson sighed heavily. "Hadley, if I could tell you what to do, believe me, I would. But every person is different."

Grudglingly, I had to admit that she was right. I still glared at her, though.

"Why do you think Archer would have killed himself?" Mrs. Anderon asked me, a very serious look on her face.

That one was obvious.

"His dad," I said. "That's probably one reason."

"One reason," she pointed out. "That's only one reason. You really have to think about this."

Mrs. Anderson did have a point. Maybe I was focusing too much on the obvious.

If my father had killed someone, I don't think I'd be able to handle that at all. I would feel ashamed and horrible and awful nearly every day. I wouldn't want anybody to know a single thing about my life. I wasn't stupid enough to think that Archer felt that way. Of course he did.

But then there had to be other reasons why Archer would have been driven to kill himself. I didn't know what it was like to have depression, but I knew it was no walk in the park. And then Archer was always taking care of his little sisters and his mom and grandma, and he was working two jobs, too. Not only that, but if he did have any spare time, than he had to be doing homework. The guy was insanely smart. There was no way he didn't study. That'd be enough to make me go insane. And then there was the way Archer was treated at school. I'd seen some of it before, even if I hadn't done anything about it, and I knew verbal abuse could hurt just as much as physical abuse.

"Hadley?"

I looked up at Mrs. Anderson and saw her concerned expression, and then realized tears were flowing fast and furiously down my cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Anderson asked me carefully.

I nodded, rubbing my jacket sleeve across my cheeks. "I'm fine. I just..I just...want to..."

"Save him," Mrs. Anderson finished for me with a nod. "I know. But let me tell you, Hadley, that if you weren't going to succeed, you wouldn't have been given this task."

"But Havoc said - " I started to say, completely losing track of my thoughts, but the look on Mrs. Anderson made me fall short.

"Havoc?" Mrs. Anderson said in a deadly serious voice.

I nodded shakily, shuffling back a step.

"Please don't tell me you've ever even seen a man called Havoc before," Mrs. Anderson demanded, looking like she was about to punch someone.

"Well, I...sort of...the other night, I was..." I stammered, my face turning bright red.

I'm fairly certain Mrs. Anderson swore in German.

"This is not good," she was muttering as she massaged her forehead with her fingers. "Not good at all."

"But - "

"If an underling showed up at your door, then you've definitely got bigger problems," Mrs. Anderson said, more to her self than me.

"What the hell is an underling?" I broke in, my voice pitching.

"Havoc is an underling," Mrs. Anderson told me, staring at me with wide eyes. "Not exactly a demon, but not exactly an angel, either. Underlings usually do the dirty work that angels or demons don't bother to involve themselves with. And Havoc is the worst of his kind."

Okay, so now we were throwing angels into the picture? Good God.

Mrs. Anderson continued talking, and I wasn't so sure if she was even aware that I was still standing in front of me.

"Of course, if Havoc of all underlings is showing up, then that means he considers you a big enough threat. But it won't be easy. Oh, no, it won't be easy at all. There's a good chance you can save Archer, but it'll come at a price, whether you want to pay it or not."

Death had warned me. Havoc had warned me. And now Mrs. Anderson was warning me? I couldn't believe this was happening.

I understood that the people involved with all of this weren't exactly playing with a full deck of cards, but when were things going to start happening? Weren't people who were tricksters or whatever got down to business right away? Havoc had showed up on Friday night, and apart from the grisly cut on my hand, nothing had happened since then.

Well, to me, at least. I couldn't speak for Archer.

When the hell were things going to start actually happening? I only had fourteen days left, and that wasn't exactly a large amount of time.

If everything was laid out on the table right now, wouldn't it be easier to deal with all at once?

"What are you saying, Mrs. Anderson?" I asked her slowly, gripping my jacket sleeves tightly.

"I'm telling you that you need to watch your back," Mrs. Anderson said, rising to her feet. "Just because you can't see Havoc doesn't mean he's not here."

That comment was enough to send a sliver of ice cold fear down my spine.

"That cut on your hand is the least of what could happen to you," Mrs. Anderson said, pointing a finger at my bandaged hand. "You have to be careful, Hadley. Do you understand? Be careful."

I nodded shakily, swallowing back more tears. "I will."

Mrs. Anderson glanced up at the clock tacked to the wall above the dry erase board. "You should get to class. You're going to be late. Don't speak to anyone about what I've just told you, alright? The Lord knows enough people already think I'm insane."

As much as I wanted to tell her she was totally wrong about that one, she wasn't kidding. There really were people who thought she was criminally insane. Now that I'd actually had a civil conversation with her, she really wasn't that bad of a person.

"Mrs. Anderson..." I trailed off hesitantly, glancing back at her over my shoulder as I made my way towards the door.