She'd been about to shout after him, "What others?"  But as the lights flickered, she was distracted.  Just enough so that she didn't miss the fact that he'd apparently disappeared, leaving her feeling uncharacteristically dumbfounded in the cafeteria.<br/><br/>Esther decided to take a seat at the edge of one of the tables.  The milk didn't matter much to her anymore: she was shaken.  Never mind the fact that she didn't really like Billy; to be honest, she wasn't fond of any man getting in her face and telling her that they could have her if they wanted.  But Billy had sent a chill through her that went from her toes to the roots of her hair.  He wasn't kidding.  And from a purely survival standpoint, that made this a demand, not a request.<br/><br/>There were people she'd met on the Rez, once or twice, that seemed to be able to do things like this.  To tell you, for a fact, that you were not in control, with a knowing that made it impossible to disagree.  And then to vanish at will, just because it was more convenient.  Those people had a community, though, and a certain kind of etiquette to follow.  Billy didn't seem to be encumbered by any of that.  He was boundless.<br/><br/>No rules.  At all.<br/><br/>To her own horror, the thought turned her on.  She'd gone from disliking Billy on principle to being threatened by him, and that was inexplicably, and disturbingly, preferable.  Even as she rapidly pushed those impulses away from her mind, she was absolutely sure she'd be there at midnight.  It might require some rescheduling, but that was no problem.  Her life didn't have much of a schedule, anyhow: not one that mattered, anyway.  Esther took a moment to ground herself, breathing deeply, trying to feel the earth through the soles of her feet.  It wasn't working so good, and she gave up with a slump of her neck.  She looked down at the pouch of hard-boiled eggs in her bag, decided she wasn't hungry after all, and decided put in her ear-phones and go sit on one of the benches outside.<br/><br/>She skipped math class that afternoon.  Patrick Walker wasn't her least favorite teacher.  He did his best to make things fun, and wasn't afraid to admit the bull-shit of his own methods sometimes.  She'd found herself laughing during more than one of his lectures, which was a first, for a math class.  He was also a coach, apparently, although she couldn't say what sport the guy presided over.  It wasn't bad, but with her head as full as it was, she didn't see the reason for cramming x=y's into an already messy space.<br/><br/>Half-way through that period, she saw the one man in the whole god-forsaken building.. besides Billy, as of an hour and a half ago.. who she really felt wary of.  They called him Officer Smiley.  His real name was something like Benjamin Dyle, but the truth of it was that he usually<em>was</em>smiling, although seldom out of the kindness of his heart.  Like this time: the smile he was wearing as he approached Esther was unmistakably snide.  Louder than words, it simply said:<em>I gotchya.</em>Esther took out her ear plugs and greeted him with a blank stare.<br/><br/>"Lunch ended a while back, you know.  Didn't realize you had open period."  Smiley was all bull-shit.  It would be so much less irritating if he just said<em>You're skipping.</em><br/>"Don't have open period.  Waiting for my mom."<br/>"Oh, really?  And the, uh, office.. can verify that's why you're out here?"  Or another way,<em>And you're lying.</em><br/>"Look, Mom has family stuff to.."<br/>"Oh, no, no, that's alright." Dyle cut her off and took a seat next to her.  "I wanted to talk to you about something else, anyhow."  Esther thought, furious, about what his translation would be, but she already knew.<br/>"Been hearing interesting nicknames for you, Ms. Wilmington.  You familiar?"<br/>"Can I take the fifth amendment and you just go away?"<br/>"Not in school, you can't." he smiled.<em>Gotchya.</em><br/>The two just stared at each-other for a little while.  Esther was pretty proud of her patience, but Smiley wasn't having to tax his.  He loved his work: every bust, every snap, every single person made to squeal or wriggle in his grasp.  After a few minutes, Esther got tired of it.  She decided she didn't care.  "Yes, I've heard.  They call me the Weed Girl."<br/>"Weed Girl.." Smiley turned and made a show of tasting the words on his lips.  God, she hated this guy.  "Interesting name to have, at a school with a drug problem."<br/>"I don't fit in.  Mom's a hippie.  And I have the DVD box-set." she shrugged, her voice a case study in bitter.  "The name stuck.  Need to search me?"<br/>"That would be a good guess," he smiled, standing.  Taking her cue, she stood as well, every fiber of her being annoyed.  She didn't have anything to hide this time around, and she'd even had her de-tox juice last night, in case he decided to test her.  Sure, she sold pot at school.  She just wasn't dumb enough to carry it around with her.  And that made this less about the fear of getting caught and more about not being able to relax.  She looked up at the officer, reading his facial expressions.  He was proud, and he was enjoying this way too much.<br/><br/>------------------<br/><br/>When she got out of school that afternoon, her bag was in complete disarray.  They'd broken her hard boiled eggs and searched pretty much everywhere on her person.  She felt violated, as though she had just had to do a strip search for this sleazy mall-cop that was supposed to be the school's main defense against shit that actually mattered.  She was fuming about it, the whole walk home.<br/><br/>It had been a bad day since Drama Class.  Biology, Billy, this..  She walked through the door of her mother's one-room apartment, hearing the snores from the cheap sofa in what counted as the living room.  Mom, out cold again.  This was just the icing on the cake, really.  She felt her brow twitch and her teeth grind, as everything she really loved or really hated in all the world lay passed out in front of the TV.<br/><br/>Sighing, she went to her room in the back and got right to work.  She picked up a phone and cleared her schedule for the evening.  No trades.  No part time jobs.  If they asked, she said she had a date with the devil himself.  She didn't really care what Billy was selling, or what he wanted for it.  She knew in her bones he wasn't going to disappoint her.  And after a day like today, a night like that was very fucking welcome.<br/><br/>Headphones on.  Clothes off.  Esther began her afternoon ritual of self-grounding.  By the time it was 10:00, she'd put in an hour of belly-dancing, made three wax candles, whittled the first part of a faerie sculpture she had been meaning to create, woken up her mother and cooked dinner, ranted like she was on The View, watched an episode of Weeds, and gotten stoned.  In no particular order.  All while going through a play-list of everything from Pirate Chanteys to Nine Inch Nails.  She was more relaxed than she thought possible when the clock struck 10:30, indicating her time to get moving.<br/><br/>Her Mom sleepily asked where she might be heading at such an hour, and her story didn't change for her.  A date with the devil.  Her mother laughed and sprawled out on the couch, asking her to bring by a demon or three if he had some left over.  Esther smiled and shook her head, pulling a blanket over her.  She resembled her mother too closely: it was as though she was tucking herself in, 20 years in the future.  It was an affectionate though, until the possibility of being like her mother in 20 years made her skin crawl, and she felt that affection dry up.  She showered, dressed comfortably in her hippie attire, and made ready to leave.<br/><br/>She picked up her mother's taser, which had no charge.  Quietly, Esther cursed herself for buying a weapon for a woman that couldn't charge a battery.  So, she opted for her whittling knife, instead.  Not much, but she didn't fancy the idea of being totally defenseless around the 'others,' which she supposed meant other people that Billy was trading his.. whatever it was, with.  She made sure to pick up a flash-light, checking it twice to make sure the batteries worked, and slipping it into her bag.  As she was about to leave, she borrowed some of her mother's swag, a lighter, and a bowl, just in case these 'others' were open to peace piping, or on the off chance that they'd had a bad day as well.<br/><br/>She would arrive at the train station at about 11:30, give or take.  She'd enjoy wandering around the area a little if time and company allowed, but would quickly get bored, instead gravitating to whatever 'others' would be present.