Invisible Saviour Siblings Essay Example for Free

Invisible Saviour Siblings Essay The philosopher Immanuel Kant said â€Å"Treat others as an end and not as means to an end. † People need to value others for themselves rather than for what they can achieve by the means of them. The idea of selecting an embryo, conceived by IVF, which will become a child that can donate for an older sibling suffering from a genetic disease, has created a difficult moral dilemma. Concerns over the creation of what are called â€Å"savoir siblings† are specifically created to help an existing child. In the novel â€Å"My Sister’s Keeper† by Jodi Picoult there is a girl named Anna who was brought in to this world for the purpose to save her sister Kate. Anna suggests that while her method of coming into the world is not conventional, since most babies born are unwanted; she at least was a wanted child. But she is wanted as a product, as a medical treatment, as a donor. Anna came to a decision that she wanted to stop donating to her sister, so she starts a lawsuit for medical emancipation; the right to control her own body. The child is used as something instrumental and has a welcome that is far from being unconditional. Even the label savoir† is a misnomer. When we speak of a savoir we refer to someone who has made an active choice to donate. The child never has a choice. When a donation occurs it will have lifelong effects on the body. The possible psychological problem the child will have from being a savior sibling. The parents do not think about the saviour child in the terms of an individual. The parents need to realize that there is a line that separates the value of preserving life and the costs of the quality of life. When a child is born it is up to the parents to make the decisions for them, but what if the parents are not focus on that child? It is their zeal to make things better for their sick child, but the parents have forgotten that their donor child is a person with feelings, not a something just to pick at when needed. In the case of babies who are selected as a source of cells, the â€Å"savior is passive and is treated as a product. The choices being made about donation is not even being discussed about. Anna is not even being asked about what she wants to do, â€Å"You make it sound like there’s some process involved. Like there’s actually a choice. † (192) the parents are deciding what is for the best. They do not even consult with Anna about how she feels about everything. Anna had to quit hockey because she was missing two many games, but the only reason why she was missing games was that she had to be there when Kate might need something. Her choice to play hockey was taken away from her and no one in her family even cared. They did not even notice when she started to play hockey, so why would they notice when she stopped. There is a big chance that the family would not even listen to Anna if she would have said that she does not want to continue being the donor. The doctors do not ever consult with Anna about what she wanted to do; they only talked to the parents. They never let Anna make her choice. She was brought in this world as a savior sibling, but it did not mean to make her sacrifice her whole life. The use of savior siblings have raised the issue of the possibility of psychological trauma that the created sibling may suffer from knowing that they was created partly for reasons of imposed selflessness. The child could feel as if they had been used. The donor sibling would feel that they were around to provide â€Å"spare parts†, and were not valued for who they are. Remember the adolescent cry â€Å"I did not ask to be born† and add to it the accusation that the parents only had them to save their siblings life. The moment the child is brought in to this world they have a job to perform. How the parents treat Anna makes her feel like her only purpose in life is to help heal Kate. With these feelings it makes her think about what if Kate was not sick, â€Å"It made me wonder, though, what would have happened if Kate had been healthy. Chances are, I’d still be floating up in Heaven or wherever, waiting to be attached to a body to spend some time on Earth† (08). If Kate was healthy would the parents ever thought about having a third child. The parents once said that their family was complete with two children; each child favored a parent. Anna has matured faster than any child her age, because from the start of her life she was not fully allowed to be a child. She learnt early on that Kate was the main focus and everything else became second. Growing up is hard enough, but when there is question on ones existence it can have serious emotional effects. The child becomes lost in their quest for their own identity. Furthermore, if the treatment of the sick child is unsuccessful, their death can be much harder for the savior sibling, as they may feel as if they have failed. The child would have to go through the rest of their life feeling guiltily about not saving their sibling life. Donating an organ is not as simple as it sounds. The donor of the organ has to deal with limitations on their life. In the novel Anna is being pressured by her mother to donate her kidney to her sister Kate. Her mother does not think about the after effects of the surgery. Anna loves to play hockey, but donating her kidney will stop here from playing. Kidney organ donors should not participate in physical activity that could damage their other kidney. Anna’s mother Sara only concern is Kate, so when Anna wanted to go to Hockey camp her mother said no. Her mother is not caring for what Anna wants â€Å"Not because I am afraid of what might to Anna there, but because I am afraid of what might happen to Kate while her sister is gone. If Kate survives this latest relapse†¦.. we will need Anna-her blood, her stem cells, her tissue-right here. (269), she wanted Anna to be where she needed her. If Anna did go through with the surgery something could go wrong, but does her parents ever does comprehend it. If there were no complications with any of these procedures, the savior sibling would still stay in the hospital with stress and pain which they are not gaining any type of personal benefit. The mother will be so worried about Kate after the surgery; she will be by her side and not by Anna’s. The parents should not make an organ donation decision. It has to be Anna’s choice. Going through with a kidney donation, she would lose some quality of her life. While there is potential harm, it is not without potential benefits to the saviour sibling. The donor child might derive pleasure from knowing that he or she has saved his or her sibling’s life and would benefit from the saved child’s company. In this respect, it is appropriate to consider the welfare of the donor child within the context of the family since his or her social, emotional and psychological interests depend on the welfare of the child’s family. Saving the life of the existing sibling is also in his or her best interests. This will ensure a happier family (e. g. no grieving parents) from which the donor child would benefit. There are benefits to the child, but if the child is born and the transplant is made but is unsuccessful, what comes of the family at that point? The donor child would feel that they have fail in their job in helping to keep their sibling alive. If the transplant was successful, there is no time frame for a savior sibling to stop providing transplants for their older sibling. The donor sibling could chose not to donate later in life or chose to no longer accept the role of â€Å"saviour† for which they were originally conceived. The parents might not like that they brought this child in to this world for a certain purpose, but now the child does not want to donate anymore. The savior child would have no support from their family. They would feel that they had only one purpose; to save their sibling. Parents have more choices than ever before and they need to use every resource available to protect the health of their children, but there is a line that should not be crossed. There are potential harmful psychological effects on a child born not for itself, but to save another. If conception of saviour siblings for the donation of cord blood stem cells is permitted, what is to stop donation ending there. There may be an inevitable situation where the donor child will be expected to â€Å"donate† bone marrow in the event that the umbilical cord stem cell transplant fails or the sick sibling relapses and requires further treatment. If the child is under age, then the parents decide the choice for them and of course they would have the savior child donate whatever the sick child needs. Parents are blinded from seeing what is in the best interest for both of their children. The only thing that is on their mind is to save their sick child. If there is no benefit at all to the created saviour child, it appears hard to justify that it is humane and proper to use them to save the life of a sibling. Every parent has to seriously decide the point at which they will halt their efforts to save their sick child regardless of the potential outcome. There comes a point when people have to realize there is nothing they can do. The parents get so consumed in the entire process and the emotions involved in saving your sick child that they may lose the ability to know when to stop. Despite how gut-wrenching it may be, they have to stop, not only for the sake of their other children, but for the sake of their sick child. They should have to realize that there comes a point when vigilance becomes obsession and good intentions get warped and bastardized to the point that they do more harm than good. People should to write to President to have him put regulations on the use of Genetic technology for creation of savoir siblings. A savior sibling cannot lose their quality of life just because they were conceived with the weight of the family on their shoulders. The child should not go through life suffering, for the reason that she was conceived to help heal their sick sibling.

Jesus Rejected At Nazareth Theology Religion Essay

Jesus Rejected At Nazareth Theology Religion Essay 54  Coming to his hometown, he began teaching the people in their synagogue,  and they were amazed.Where did this man get this wisdom and these miraculous powers. they asked.  55  Isnt this the carpenters son?  Isnt his mothers  name Mary, and arent his brothers  James, Joseph, Simon and Judas?  56  Arent all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?57  And they took offense  at him. But Jesus said to them,  Only in his hometown and in his own house is a prophet without honor.  58  And he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith. Introduction: The aforementioned verses are from Matthew of New Testament and the authorship of the book weather it was written by Mathew himself or not is in question itself. Matthew was tax collector in his early life. Harrington(1991, pp.8) mentions though this Gospel is called anonymous but we still can find the evangelist and his community to be from Jewish background. In the above given verses, it talks about Jesus being rejected at his home town when he returns from his ministry. If we follow the accounts in synoptic gospels, Jesus rejection has been mentioned in Mark 6:1-6, Matthew 13:54-58 and Luke 4:16-30.France (2007, pp.20) states that it was widely accepted Matthew was first Gospel until middle of nineteenth century and for more than a century it was considered Mark as first and Matthew and Luke drew on Mark, along they had access to some source called as Q. The incident takes place in Nazareth. The verses includes Jesus and the people of Nazareth as parties of communication. Before rejection story Matthew mentions about Jesus using parable to teach his disciples. The above passage are full of implications, people were in tolerant of his visit due to his ministry at the place. He is pointed not as a messiah rather as a common labor, they were not ready to accept him anything else than a common carpenters son. Mathew 58 sums up he did not performed many mighty works because of their unbelief. Whereas Mark 5 says he could not do many might works but heal some people there. Both agree that Jesus did performed some miracles in his hometown. Mathew put it as Jesus did not performed much miracles because of their unbelief irrespective of what they saw. it is not that he could not rather limited himself because of their unbelief. Body: In this part we try to scrutinize the rejection from different perspective. This is a unique pericope where Jesus does not stand as a central theme rather other characters are dominant in the story . View of pericope through Mark : Mark talks about parables in 4:1-34 and the rejection story in 6:1-6, but the middele of those two incident are filled with Jesus miracles ,Jesus calms the storm (Mark 4:35-41), restoring Demon-possessed man (Mark5:1-20) and raising a dead girl and healing a sick woman (Mark 5:21-43).As Rudolf Schnackenberg, In Mark 6:1-6, Jesus rejection in Nazareth is recorded by way of intentional contrast with his cures in Mark 5. In Mark the rejection story starts after Jesus healed the lady and little child (Mark 5:21-42). So through this verse Mark tells us Jesus can do miracle and had worked. But when he visits Nazareth, the people there cannot accept the wisdom and miracles of Jesus with the ordinary Jesus they knew as. So Marks writes about Jesus not being able to do much miracles. Mark here tries to show the emphasis on importance of relationship between faith and miracles View of pericope through Matthew .Whereas Matthew talks less about miracles. There are no supporting miracles ahead of these above verses. In Mark, the people ask about numerous question at a time about wisdom, origin and miracles as they cannot relate this with common man. While we go through Matthew we come to the verses appear after parable discourse. Also it focuses on teaching of Jesus rather than miracles. Here Matthew tries to show Jesus himself chooses not to show miracles to people because of their unbelief. 54: When he visits Nazareth he teaches people in synagogue and gives them messages of God when he delivers it people are taken in surprise but they lacks the faith to believe it was Jesus who did it. Nazarens asks. Where did this man get this wisdom and these miraculous power? Here we can read people knew what Jesus was saying is wise and he had miraculous power but they can only remember him being carpenters son. 55-56: The mention of Jesus family and its members is to disrespect or to show that he was from socially lower origin. And when the verses it to complete Matthew states, Where then did this person get all this? (which we cannot read in Mark). 57: 58: Matthew focuses on unbelief of people of Nazarens for less miracles of Jesus whereas Mark only concerns about Jesus lack of miracles. Conclusion: Unbelief is negative attitude and it is always disheartening. Jesus after his long ministry out of his hometown comes back to home with remembrances of friends and family. But his town mates at Nazareth refuses to acknowledge his wisdom, his teaching and his mission as they identified Jesus with his ordinary childhood. When Jesus limits himself with miracles its not because he could not rather it was his will. Now we can see the significance of the whole story. It is narrated as a rejection story in midst of miracles and wisdom. But the vitality of the story lies in part of Jesus and his reaction to whole rejection. Matthew convinces us that despite what Jesus has to hear from his hometown folks he stands strong and confronts the rejection. He wins a battle of rejection with a rejection to show many of his mighty deeds. He does so because he Jesus knew its not worth to change unbelief through miracles. This pericope on the rejection of Jesus at Nazareth is followed by rejection and death of John. Immediately after rejection by his people, Matthew tells us about death of John in Matthew 14:6-10, here we can also see how the teaching of Jesus have been rejected by a ruler of his home town.

The Day Of The Dead In Mexico

The Day Of The Dead In Mexico Every Mexican is closely acquainted with death, jokes about it, caresses for it, sleeps with it, celebrates it, said the Mexican poet Octavio Paz (Kuhn. 2006). Day of the Dead (Spanish: Dà ­a de los Muertos) is a holiday, festival which is dedicated to the memory of the dead people, and is held on the 1st -2nd of November in Mexico. There is a belief that the souls of dead people come to their relatives` homes these days (Williams, 1998). The origin of the holiday goes back to the tribes of Maya, Purà ©pech, Naun and Totonac. These people had been praising the dead during more than 3 thousand of years. The Aztecs considered that the death was more important than the life. The life was worth of nothing, and they believed that leaving, a man was going through the nine lower worlds in Miktlan, which is the shelter of the dead people. No matter how people lived, it is important how they were dying; it influenced their fate in the netherworld. It is also said that the Day of the Dead was brought to Mexico by Spanish people. But the Catholic Church is not able to eradicate pagan holidays till the end. Day of the Dead is a dangerous mix of Christian traditions of the conquerors and the ancient Aztec customs. Talking about the history of this holiday, it is necessary to mention that the life for the inhabitants of ancient Mexico was just a moment. Death was waking dreams in the present, in order to enter the world of the dead and appear in front of the other gods, depending on the type of case, which took away their lives. Those who have been sacrificed or died in a result of the war, went to the sun after death, the same fate awaited the women who died, giving life to the child. Those who have drowned found themselves in paradise (Smith, 2005). The souls of the dead children were regarded as precious, thats why they stayed in the house; the soul that was not chosen by God was left in the underworld. In order to help souls to travel from this world into the world of the dead, without delay, people who died were buried or burned, along with things, food, a dog as a companion and water for the road. In the sixteenth century, when the conquest and colonization began, the widespread dissemination of the Catholic religion also started. People were afraid of death and hell that time. But in the eighteenth century, two types of attitude toward death were intertwined in a single cult. Skeletons and bones appeared again, but with a festive and the comic mood, in addition, the Catholic symbols appeared in the local crafts and foods. Now it is a popular holiday, which involves all segments of society. It is believed, the souls of the dead people return to the world of alive in order once again to see their families for two days. Houses in these days look like the crypts, but the graves are decorated with flowers and ribbons, and all the relatives and friends come to honor the memory of dead people. And in order their souls which are returning to earth in the form of butterflies or hummingbirds dont get lost, candles are lit everywhere, pointing them the way home (Verti, 1993). The holiday gathers the friends and family together in order to remember and pray for those have already died. The cult of the dead was very important for Indian tribes, which are why nowadays ceremonies, rituals and traditions come from that time. One of the mysteries of the holiday is the altar, which is traditionally built on October 31. The Aztecs believed that the dead are returning home in order to take the necessary things for the journey to the world of the dead: el Mictlon. Now to build the altar is an unusual way to show the deceased relatives, friends, that they are remembered and loved. Each component of the altar has a special meaning. The altar stands on a table covered with an embroidered cloth. The most important component is the bread which has the shape of the human body and has the name of the deceased. The bread is surrounded by orange flowers of calendula, symbolizing the sadness. Candles should be burning around the altar (each of them gets the name of the deceased). In some homes the road from the entrance door to the altar is sprinkled with petals of calendula, in order the deceased not to get lost. On the 1st of November Mexicans go out, meet friends, and then have dinner at home, telling funny stories. Usual altar, which Mexicans have on The Day of Dead has such things as: calaveras, fruit, nuts, candles, bread of dead, alcohol, cigarettes, papel picada (perforated paper) and a lot of petals of flowers (Conklin, 2001). And on the 2nd of November people bring rice with milk, sweets, tequila, cigarettes and coffee to altar. The bottom of the altar is decorated with pumpkins and rolls of various shapes and colors. Sometimes the part of the altar, is carried to the grave of the deceasedà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦ decorating tracks of cemetery with candles. In those days, people treat each other on behalf of the deceased, in the hope that in the future the deceased will help in a difficult moment. The first day of the holiday is called Dà ­a de los Angelitos (Day of angels) and is dedicated to the commemoration of little children. For adults is meant to be the second day; which is in fact, the Day of the Dead. All major events and celebrations are on the second day. It is the day when street marches, especially in small towns and villages are arranged. The way of the celebration can be very different: in some areas of the country the residents organize sad solemn torch procession, the type of funeral, while others prefer the burlesque fun, bright colors, dances and songs. Usually people dress up as skeletons and at night the whole country under the light of torches rushes to the graves of relatives, taking traditional tequila, favorite food of the deceased and sugar skulls with the names of dead people on forehead. In the night, it looks like a fiery river flows in the direction of the cemetery. At cemeteries people drink, eat, and dance (Greenleigh, 1998). On the Day of the Dead it is common to write humorous epitaphs and draw caricatures of the deceased. Thus, during the holiday people can buy sugar and chocolate skulls of all sizes, marzipan coffins, skeletons and marmalade in every shop. Women bake cakes and donuts with the pattern of bones, the crosses of the dough, and other decorations for the altar, for the picnic at the cemetery. The Day of the Dead is the most popular holiday in Mexico. Mexicans` attitude to the death is not usual; it is not tragic, but joyous day for meeting with those who were dear for them. It is not a tragic holiday, but triumphant festival, with the colorful costumed procession and the music. This holiday is so significant, unusual, and colorful, that in 2003, it was declared the heritage of mankind by UNESCO (Kuhn, 2006). It is very beautiful and interesting to walk at Mexican cemetery at the Day of Dead. Every grave is a peace of art, which can form an idea about the dead person: whether he was a carpenter, or a watchmakerà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦ There is a small building at every cemetery, which looks like a room with a hole in the ceiling. This is a special place which people use in order to talk to dead people. If someone has something important to tell to the dead people, he can go into this room and whisper his important information. And if the teller is sincere, then he will be always heard by the deceased person. There is a need to say that while celebration, people cook sweets in the form of skulls, make special figurines of dressed female skeletons Katrina (Spanish: La Calavera de la Catrina). In 2004 the students of the National Autonomous University of Mexico, built a wall from 5,667 sugar, chocolate and caramel skulls, which is 2,667 skulls more than the former wall. The wall has become one of the records from the Guinness Book of Records (Brandes, 2006). Mexicans have very specific attitude to death, that is why their holiday Day of the Dead is one of the best and popular holidays in their culture. As famous Mexican poet Octavio Paz wrote: Fearless Mexican doesnt feel confused when death comes, he is ready to move forward it, to teas, tempt it, squeeze it in his arms, lie down with it in bed; it is his favorite toy and the last love. Work Cited Brandes, Stanley. Skulls to the Living, Bread to the Dead. Blackwell Publishing. ISBN 1405152478. 12.15 (2006). pp. 232. Conklin, Paul. Death Takes A Holiday. U.S. Catholic 66 (2001): 38-41. Greenleigh, John., Beimler, Rosalind Rosoff. The days of the dead: Mexicos Festival of Communion with the Departed. (1998). p. 56. Kuhn, John. Making a night of Day of the Dead. Los Angeles Times 18. 10 (2006). Smith, Fiona. Bolivians Honor Skull-Toting Tradition. Associated Press. 11.08 (2005). Verti, Sebastià ¡n. Mexican traditions. (1993). pp. 112-115. Williams, Rick. The Day of the Dead, Halloween, and the Quest for Mexican National Identity. Journal of American Folklore 442 (1998). pp. 359-80.

The Mexican Peso Crisis Essays -- Economy Economics Mexico Essays

The Mexican Peso Crisis This paper argues that the Mexican peso crisis of December 20 should have been expected and foreseeable. In the year preceding the crisis, there were several indicators suggesting that the Mexican economy and peso were already under extreme pressure. The economy bubble was ballooning to burst so much so that it was simply a crisis waiting to happen. Evidences Signaling the Crisis 1.  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Decreasing Current Account Deficit versus Increasing Capital Account Balance Mexico was running an increasing current account deficit from US$7.5 billion in 1990 to US$23.4 billion in 1993. This indicates an excess of private investing over private savings. However, the country was able to maintain an improving fiscal account from US$3.6 billion deficit in 1990 to US$0.7 billion surplus in 1993. The deficit in current account was financed through capital funds from abroad resulting the capital account to increase from US$8.4 billion in 1990 to US$33.8 billion in 1993. The over-dependent on foreign capital flows had made the Mexican economy very vulnerable to any sudden and major flux of this capital fund which was very much dependent on the investors? confidence level in the Mexican economy. The fact that majority of the capital funds was in the form of portfolio capital instead of foreign direct investment (FDI) had also worsen the situation. The ratio of portfolio capital to FDI had increased substantially from 1:1.3 in 1990 to 1:6.5 in 1993. Given the volatile nature, portfolio capital tends to respond with greater speed to changes in the environment. 2.  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Depletion of International Reserve The central bank of Mexico has built up at high level of international reserve. The huge reserve was the result of the Mexican government?s policy of exchange intervention to prevent large fluctuation in the peso. In the beginning of 1994, the reserve amounted to US$26.4 billion but was depleted to a low US$6.7 billion in Mid Dec, flagging red light that the exchange mechanism had been pushed to the limit and the government can no longer hold on to the pegged peso to US dollar. 3.  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Increasing Fed Rate but Decreasing Mexican Interest Rate Federal funds rate has risen the fifth time in 1994 on Nov 1994 and reaches 5.5%. This resulted in stronger dollar against peso as the quantity of US dollar reduced. This signaled problems for Mex... ...ssibility of a devaluation of the peso  ·Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  According to Euromoney, Mexico?s ranking among borrowing countries improved between March and September 1994 Conclusion The decreasing current account, increasing capital account, depleting international reserves, declining real GDP growth and increasing dollar-denominated tesobonos all pointed towards the vulnerability of the Mexican economy. In view of the repeated political unrests, Mr. Woo and the others should have expected this crisis. But they based their decisions on surface information and market sentiments that had over-valued the market potential. References : The Mexican Peso Crisis : the Foreseeable and the Surprise Nora Lustig, Brookings Institution, June 1995 Mexico 1994 versus Thailand 1997 Thailand Development Research Institute, 1997 Exchange-Rate Regimes, Speculative Attacks and Currency Crisis University of Essex An Early Warning System for Financial Crisis Dominic Barton, Roberto Newell and Gregory Wilson, Mc Kinsey & Company, 2003 The Impact of the Mexican Crisis of 94-95 on the Maquiladora Industry Paul Cooney, Queens College What NAFTA Brought to Mexicans? Jim Callis, March 1998

Argument in Favor of Euthanasia Essay -- Euthanasia, Argumentative Ess

Debate about the morality and legality of voluntary euthanasia has been a phenomenon since the second half of the 20th century. The ancient Greeks and Romans did not believe that life needed to be preserved at any cost and were tolerant of suicide in cases where no relief could be offered to the dying or when a person no longer cared for their life (Young). In the 4th century BC, the Hippocratic Oath was written by Hippocrates, the father of medicine. One part of the Oath states, â€Å"I will not give a lethal drug to anyone if I am asked, nor will I advise such a plan; and similarly I will not give a woman a pessary to cause and abortion† (Brock). For 2,400 years, physicians made these solemn promises. Until very recently the Hippocratic Oath was taken by all new physicians. It was a rite of passage. It has only been the last 100 years that there have been concerted efforts to make legal provision for voluntary euthanasia. The word â€Å"euthanasia† comes from two Gree k words, â€Å"eu† meaning good or easy and â€Å"thanatos† meaning death (all.org). Traditionally, euthanasia meant painless death or death without suffering. Today, the term has many names, the main one being mercy killing. Assisted suicide has been legally tolerated in Switzerland for many years (Kimsma). In the 1970-1980’s a series of court cases in the Netherlands culminated in an agreement between the legal and medical authorities to ensure that no physician would be prosecuted for assisting a patient to die as long as certain guidelines were strictly met. In brief, the guidelines were established to permit physicians to practice voluntary euthanasia in those instances in which a competent patient had made a voluntary and informed decision to die, the patient's suffering was unbe... ...ck. Life choices: a Hastings Center introduction to bioethics. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 1995. 537. Print. Jotkowitz, Alan, S. Glick, and B Gesundheit. "A Case Against Justified Non-Voluntary Active Euthanasia (The Groningen Protocol)." American Journal of Bioethics 8.11 (2008): 23-26. Web. 30 March 2011. Keown, John. Euthanasia Examined: Ethical, Clinical, and Legal Perspectives. Cambridge, New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995. 340. Print. Kimsma, Gerrit, and Evert van Leeuwen. Asking to Die: Inside the Dutch Debate about Euthanasia. New York, NY: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2002. 35-70. Print. McCuen, Gary. Doctor assisted suicide and the euthanasia movement. Revised Ed. Hudson, Wisconsin: G.E. McCuen Publications, 1999. 152. Print. Young, Robert. "Voluntary Euthanasia." Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Fall 2010 Edition. 2010. Web.

Compare Barak Obama’s and Martin Luther King’s persuasive speeches

Barak Obama and Martin Luther King are two very important historical people that helped America return to it ideals. Obama is the first black president of the United States, elected in 2008. King was the moral leader of the civil rights movements; he was fighting for legal equality for black people. King was addressing the 1963 March on Washington to the black and white supporters in favour of civil rights. His profession as a pastor and his pacifist beliefs influenced his speech; also he was a preacher and strongly believed in non violence. The result of his speech and the movement he led was a direct turning point and change of law, which soon lead to the end of segregation. Later on, indirectly it led to the election of the first black president. Barak Obama was addressing his supporters after the election in 2008, when he made his speech. A few things influenced Obama’s speech, including his election as the first black president and his need to unite all parties. Also, this was the time of the credit crunch and many people were losing their jobs, this was a big influence. In Martin Luther King’s speech he uses a range of persuasive techniques to engage his audience. For example, he uses similes and metaphors to illustrate points he talks about that are more difficult to understand, so his audience always recognizes what he is trying to get across. For instance, King quotes â€Å"we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.† This makes King’s point very clear about how he wants justice to flow as if it were normal and with discretion. He also uses references to the declaration of independence and emphasises the idea of equality. King quotes â€Å"this note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.† This is showing that equality is not just an opinion, but a right that everyone has and it should be accepted and pursued because it is a state of law. King has used emotive language also to capture the audience’s attention. He quotes â€Å"we are free at last†; he repeats this line many times because it really impacts on how you look at segregation, as if it’s slavery or punishment. King really absorbs his audience into what he’s saying by using emotive language because it connects with them and controls their emotions. There is much more persuasive language and rhetoric manipulated in King’s speech but another of the main features is the sound patterns he uses, for example, onomatopoeia and alliteration. He quotes â€Å"by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character.† The ‘c’s alliterate here, and ‘c’ is a percussive consonant that really impacts the message, the ‘b’s also have this affect. He uses this because it gives the speech a rhythm and makes it more interesting to listen to. In President Barak Obama’s speech he also uses a range of persuasive techniques to engage his audience. Like King, he uses many similes and metaphors to help describe or make a point, also to encourage the audience to draw a link between two obviously unrelated things, and find similarities between them. Obama quotes ‘Every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms’ meaning, â€Å"Every so often the oath is taken amidst a political situation as brutal as a gathering storm† or â€Å"Every so often the oath is taken when the money has run out.† Obama uses a clear, powerful metaphor that allows the audience to completely realize that â€Å"gathering clouds and raging storms† refers to the current US recession. Obama also used references to the declaration of independence like King did but in a slightly different way. He quotes ‘America has carried on†¦ because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebears, and true to our founding documents.’ He refers back to this to remind and mainly thank his audience for remaining loyal and essentially following the ways of the declaration of independence and Martin Luther King. Something that both Obama and King too both used a great deal was the rule of three. This is when the speaker narrows a subject down to three major points which all link. Obama quotes ‘Homes have been lost, jobs shed, businesses shuttered.’ He uses these three because they are very strong and important. Using this rule makes a powerful impression to the audience on the topic, showing that it is a key issue. Repetition and imperative commands are core techniques used in all great speeches, it really highlights what, in this case, Obama and also King are trying to convey. In Obama’s speech, he repeats the words ‘Yes We Can’ quite a few times after talking about change or progress. This shows that he trying to imply that anything is achievable if you have the determination and strength to carry on and accomplish what you set out for. He uses this as a sort of catch phrase for the speech as a whole, as the main focus. The two speeches I have discussed are very much linked, with Martin Luther King being a direct impact on the banning of segregation and Barack Obama being the first black president they and their speeches relate. There are many similarities between the two, such as they both refer back to the declaration of independence and both use most of the same persuasive language and rhetoric in their speeches. The difference is that they aren’t exactly giving their speech on the same precise topic. The purpose of Martin Luther King’s speech was to explain to why black people should have rights along with white people, in which he called racial equality and end to discrimination. Whereas Barack Obama’s speech’s focused on the subjects of racial tensions, white privilege, and race and inequality in the United States, discussing black â€Å"anger,† white â€Å"resentment,† and other issues, his speech closed with a request to move beyond America's â€Å"racial stalemate† and concentrate on shared social problems. Both these speeches are very powerful, influential and convincing, they really explain their points well and make the audience aware of the problem or situation, they have a very persuasive tone, as a speech should have.

Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One

Hell on Earth Stephenie Meyer Gabe stared across the dance floor and frowned. He wasn't sure why he'd asked Celeste to the prom, and it was another mystery why she'd said yes. Even more mysterious now, watching her grip Heath McKenzie around the neck so tightly that Heath was probably having trouble breathing. Their bodies flattened into an indivisible mass as they swayed against the beat, ignoring the rhythm of the song thudding through the room. Heath's hands roamed over Celeste's glistening white dress in an intimate way. â€Å"Tough luck, Gabe.† Gabe looked away from the spectacle his date was making to his approaching friend. â€Å"Hey, Bry. Having a nice night?† â€Å"Better than you, man, better than you,† Bryan answered, grinning. He lifted his cup of bilious green punch as if for a toast. Gabe touched his bottled water to Bryan's cup and sighed. â€Å"I had no idea Celeste had a thing for Heath. What is he, her ex or something?† Bryan took a gulp of the sinister-looking drink, made a face, and shook his head. â€Å"Not that I know of. I've never seen them even speak to each other before tonight.† Both of them stared at Celeste, who had apparently lost something she needed deep inside Heath's mouth. â€Å"Huh,† Gabe said. â€Å"It's probably just the punch,† Bryan said in an attempt to be encouraging. â€Å"I don't know how many people spiked it, but ouch. She might not even know that's not you out there.† Bryan took another swig and made another face. â€Å"Why are you drinking that?† Gabe wondered aloud. Bryan shrugged. â€Å"I don't know. Maybe the music will start to sound a little less pathetic after I force a glass of this down.† Gabe nodded. â€Å"My ears may never forgive me. I should have brought my iPod.† â€Å"I wonder where Clara is. Is there some kind of girl-law that demands they spend a certain percentage of every event in the bathroom together?† â€Å"Yes. Stiff penalties for girls who don't meet the quota.† Bryan laughed once, but then his smile faded and he fiddled with his bow tie for a moment. â€Å"About Clara†¦Ã¢â‚¬  he began. â€Å"You don't have to say anything,† Gabe assured him. â€Å"She's an amazing girl. And you two are perfect for each other. I would've had to be blind not to see that.† â€Å"You really don't mind?† â€Å"I told you to ask her to the prom, didn't I?† â€Å"Yeah, you did. Sir Galahad makes another match. Seriously, man, do you ever think about yourself?† â€Å"Sure, every hour on the hour. And hey, speaking of Clara†¦ she better have a great time tonight or I'm going to break your nose.† Gabe grinned a wide grin. â€Å"She and I are still good friends-don't think I won't call her to check.† Bryan rolled his eyes, but suddenly found it a little difficult to swallow. If Gabe Christensen wanted to break his nose, he wouldn't have much of a problem doing it-Gabe didn't mind getting his knuckles bruised or his permanent record blemished if it meant righting something that was wrong in his eyes. â€Å"I'll take care of Clara,† Bryan said, wishing that the words didn't sound so much like a vow. There was something about Gabe and his piercing blue eyes that made you feel that way-like doing the best you could at any given task. It got irritating sometimes. With a grimace, Bryan dumped the rest of his punch into the dead moss at the base of a fake ficus tree. â€Å"If she ever leaves the bathroom.† â€Å"Good man,† Gabe said approvingly, but his smile twisted down on one side. Celeste and Heath had disappeared into the crowd. Gabe wasn't sure what the protocol was when you got dumped at the prom. How was he supposed to make sure she got home safe? Was that Heath's job now? Gabe wondered again why he'd asked Celeste to this dance. She was a very pretty girl-pageant pretty. Perfect blond hair-so full it was fluffy-wide-spaced brown eyes, and curvy lips always painted a flattering shade of pink. Her lips weren't the only things that were curvy. She'd all but shut his brain down with the thin, clingy dress she'd worn tonight. Her looks weren't the reason he'd noticed her, though. That reason was something else entirely. It was stupid and embarrassing, really. Gabe would never, ever tell anyone else about this, but every now and then, he got this weird sense that someone needed help. Needed him. He'd gotten that inexplicable pull from Celeste, as if the shapely blonde was hiding a damsel in distress somewhere behind her flawless makeup. Very stupid. And obviously wrong. Celeste didn't seem interested in any help from Gabe right now. He scanned the dance floor again but couldn't pick her golden hair out of the crowd. He sighed. â€Å"Hey, Bry, did you miss me?† Clara, her dark curly hair full of glitter, bounced free from a herd of females and joined them against the wall. The rest of the herd dispersed. â€Å"Hey, Gabe. Where's Celeste?† Bryan put his arm around her shoulders. â€Å"I thought you left. Guess I'll have to cancel the hot plans I just made with-â€Å" Clara's elbow caught Bryan in the solar plexus. â€Å"Mrs. Finkle,† Bryan continued, gasping the words and nodding toward the vice principal glaring from the corner of the room farthest away from the speakers. â€Å"We were going to sort failure notices by candlelight.† â€Å"Well, I wouldn't want you to miss that! I think I saw Coach Lauder by the cookies. Maybe I could talk him into some extra-credit pull-ups.† â€Å"Or maybe we could just dance,† Bryan suggested. â€Å"Sure, I can settle for that.† Laughing, they pressed their way toward the dance floor, Bryan's hands winding around Clara's waist. Gabe was glad Clara hadn't waited for an answer to her question. It was a little embarrassing that he didn't have one. â€Å"Hey, Gabe, where's Celeste?† Gabe grimaced and turned to the sound of Logan's voice. Logan was also solo for the moment. Perhaps it was his date's turn to exhibit girl-herding behavior. â€Å"I couldn't say,† Gabe admitted. â€Å"Have you seen her?† Logan pursed his full lips for a minute, as if debating whether or not to say something. He ran a hand nervously across his springy black hair. â€Å"Well, I thought I did. I'm not exactly sure, though†¦ She's wearing a white dress, right?† â€Å"Yeah-where is she?† â€Å"I think I saw her in the lobby. Can't be positive. Her face was sort of hard to see†¦ David Alvarado's face was all over it†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"David Alvarado?† Gabe repeated in surprise. â€Å"Not Heath McKenzie?† â€Å"Heath? Naw. It was definitely David.† Heath was a linebacker, blond and fair. David barely cleared five feet; his coloring was olive and his hair was black. No way to confuse the two. Logan shook his head sadly. â€Å"Sorry, Gabe. That sucks.† â€Å"Don't worry about it.† â€Å"At least you're not in the stag boat alone,† Logan said forlornly. â€Å"Really? What happened to your date?† Logan shrugged. â€Å"She's around here somewhere, glowering at everyone. She doesn't want to dance, she doesn't want to talk, she doesn't want punch, she doesn't want to take pictures, and she doesn't want my company.† He ticked each negative off on his fingers. â€Å"I don't know why she asked me in the first place. Probably just wanted to show off her dress-it is hot, I'll give her that. But she doesn't seem to care about showing anything now†¦ Wish I'd asked someone else.† Logan's eyes lingered wistfully on a group of girls fast dancing in a male-free circle. Gabe thought he saw Logan focus on one girl in particular. â€Å"Why didn't you ask Libby?† Logan sighed. â€Å"I don't know. I think†¦ I think she would have liked it if I'd asked her, though. Oh well.† â€Å"Who's your date?† â€Å"That new girl, Sheba. She's a little intense but really gorgeous, kinda exotic. I was too shocked to say anything but yes when she asked me to go with her. I thought that she, well, that she might be†¦ fun†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Logan finished lamely. What he'd really thought when Sheba had all but commanded him to take her to prom didn't seem entirely appropriate to be spoken aloud, especially to Gabe; lots of things seemed inappropriate around Gabe. It was just the opposite with Sheba. When he'd gotten a look at her mind-blowing red leather dress, his head had been full of ideas that somehow didn't feel in the least bit inappropriate while her deep, dark eyes had been focused on him. â€Å"I don't think I've met her,† Gabe said, interrupting Logan's brief fantasy. â€Å"You'd remember if you had.† Although Sheba had forgotten Logan quickly enough once they were in the door, hadn't she? â€Å"Hey, do you think maybe Libby came alone? I didn't hear about anyone asking her†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Er, she came with Dylan.† â€Å"Oh,† Logan said, crestfallen. Then he half-smiled. â€Å"Night's bad enough without getting tortured on top of everything else-weren't they supposed to have a band? This DJ†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I know. It's as if we're being punished for our sins,† Gabe said with a laugh. â€Å"Sins? Like you have any, Galahad the Pure.† Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One Kiss and Tell Michele Jaffe Chapter One â€Å"Sorry this wasn't more of a storybook ending,† the man with his hands around her throat said, smiling, holding her eyes with his own as he choked her. â€Å"If you're going to kill me, can't you just get on with it? This is kind of uncomfortable.† â€Å"What, my hands? Or the feeling that you're a failure-â€Å" â€Å"I'm not a failure.† † – again.† She spit in his face. â€Å"Still got some fire. I really admire that about you. I think you and I could have gotten along nicely. Unfortunately, there just isn't time.† She gave one last fight, clawing at his hands around her throat, his forearms, anything, but he didn't even flinch. Her fists fell hopelessly to her sides. He leaned in so close to her face that she could feel him exhale. â€Å"Any last words?† â€Å"Three: Listerine breath strips. You really need them.† He laughed and tightened the hands around her neck until they overlapped. â€Å"Good-bye.† For a second, his eyes burned into hers. Then she heard a sharp crack and felt herself fall to the floor as everything went black. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One The Corsage Lauren Myracle Readers, beware! The following story was inspired by â€Å"The Monkey's Paw,† first published in 1902 by W. W. Jacobs, which scared the dickens out of me when I was a teenager. Be careful what you wish for, indeed! – LAUREN MYRACLE Outside, the wind whipped around Madame Zanzibar's house, making a loose rain-pipe thump against the siding. The sky was dark, though it was only four o'clock. But within the garishly decorated waiting room, three table lamps shone brightly, each draped with a jewel-toned scarf. Ruby hues lit Yun Sun's round face, while bluish-purple hues gave Will the mottled look of someone freshly dead. â€Å"You look like you've risen from the grave,† I told him. â€Å"Frankie,† Yun Sun scolded. She did a head jerk toward Madame Z's closed office, worried, I suppose, that she might hear and be offended. A red plastic monkey hung from the office doorknob, indicating that Madame Z was with a client. We were up next. Will made his eyes go vacant. â€Å"I am a pod person,† he moaned. He stretched his arms out toward us. â€Å"Please to give me all your hearts and livers.† â€Å"Oh no! The pod person has taken over our beloved Will!† I clutched Yun Sun's arm. â€Å"Quick, give him your hearts and livers, so he'll leave mine alone!† Yun Sun shook free. â€Å"Not amused,† she said in a tone both singsongy and threatening. â€Å"And if you're not nice to me, I will leave.† â€Å"Stop being such a pooter,† I said. â€Å"I will take my thunder thighs and I will march right out of here. Just watch.† Yun Sun was on a my-legs-are-too-fat kick, just because her superslinky prom dress needed a little letting out. At least she had a prom dress. And a for-sure chance to wear it. â€Å"Bleh,† I said. Her grouchiness was endangering our plan, which was the whole reason we were here. The night of the prom was getting dangerously close, and I was not going to be the sad shell of a girl who sat home alone while everyone else went crazy with glitter dust and danced ironically in spectacular three-inch heels. I refused, especially since I knew in my heart of hearts that Will wanted to ask me. He just needed a little encouragement. I lowered my voice, all the while smiling at Will like la la la, just girl talk, nothing important! â€Å"It was both of our idea to do this, Yun Sun. Remember?† â€Å"No, Frankie, it was your idea,† she said. And she did not keep her voice down. â€Å"I've already got my date, even though he's going to be squished to death by my thighs. You're the one hoping for a last-minute miracle.† â€Å"Yun Sun!† I glanced at Will, who turned red. Bad Yun Sun, throwing it out in the open like that. Bad, bad, naughty girl! â€Å"Ow!† she yelped. Because I'd whacked her. â€Å"I am very mad at you,† I said. â€Å"Enough with the coyness. You do want him to ask you, don't you?† â€Å"Ow!† â€Å"Um, you guys?† Will said. He was doing that adorable thing he did when he was nervous, when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Although, huh. That was kind of an icky image. It made me think of bobbing for apples, which was only one step away from bobbing for Adam's apples. But. Will was indeed possessed of an Adam's apple, and when it moved up and down in his throat, it was indeed adorable. It made him look so vulnerable. â€Å"She hit me,† Yun Sun tattled. â€Å"She deserved it,† I countered. But I didn't want it to go further, this line of conversation that was already too revealing. So I patted Yun Sun's totally unfat leg and said, â€Å"However, I forgive you. Now shut up.† What Yun Sun failed to get-or more likely, what she totally got and yet failed to appreciate-was that not all things needed to be said aloud. Yes, I wanted Will to ask me to prom, and I wanted him to do it soon, because â€Å"Springtime Is for Lovers† was only two weeks away. And fine, the name of the dance was dorky, but springtime was for lovers. It was an indisputable truth. Just as it was an indisputable truth that Will was my forever boy, if only he could get past his enduring bashfulness and make a frickin' move. Enough chummy shoulder slugs and giggling, snorting tickle wars! Enough clutching each other and shrieking, blaming it on our Netflix copies of The Body Snatchers or They Come from the Hills! Couldn't Will see that I was his for the taking? He'd almost popped the question last weekend, I was ninety-nine-point-five percent sure. We'd been watching Pretty Woman, an overblown romance which never failed to amuse. Yun Sun had disappeared into the kitchen for snacks, leaving the two of us alone. â€Å"Um, Frankie?† Will had said. His foot tap-tap-tapped against the floor, and his fingers flexed on his jeans. â€Å"Can I ask you something?† Any fool would have known what was coming, because if he'd just wanted me to turn up the volume, he'd simply have said, â€Å"Hey, Franks, turn up the volume.† Casual. Straightforward. No need for any preparatory remarks. But since there were preparatory remarks†¦ well, what could he possibly have wanted to ask me besides â€Å"Will you go to prom?† Eternal delight was right there, only seconds away. And then I'd blown it. His palpable nervousness triggered a spaz-out of my own, and instead of letting the moment play out, I'd skittishly changed the subject. BECAUSE I WAS A FREAK. â€Å"Now see, that's the way it's done!† I said, pointing at the TV. Richard Gere was galloping on his white steed, which was really a limo, to Julia Roberts's castle, which was really a crappy third-story apartment. As we watched, Richard Gere climbed out of the sun roof and scaled the fire escape, all to win the affections of his beloved. â€Å"None of this namby-pamby ‘I think you're kinda cute' baloney,† I went on. I was blathering, and I knew it. â€Å"We're talking action, baby. We're talking grand gesture of love.† Will gulped. And said, â€Å"Oh.† And blinked at Richard Gere in a startled-teddy-bear way, thinking, I'm sure, that he could never, ever compare. I stared at the TV, knowing I'd sabotaged my prom night happiness through my own stupidity. I didn't care about â€Å"grand gestures of love†; I just cared about Will. But brilliant me, I'd gone and scared him off. Because in actual real reality, I was an even bigger wimp than he was. But no more-which was why we were here at Madame Zanzibar's. She would tell us our futures, and unless she was a total hack, she would state the obvious as an impartial observer: Will and I were meant for each other. Hearing it spoken so plainly would give Will the guts to try again. He'd ask me to prom, and this time I'd let him, even if it killed me. The plastic monkey twitched on the office doorknob. â€Å"Look, it's moving,† I whispered. â€Å"Oooo,† Will said. A black man with snow-white hair shuffled out of the office. He had no teeth, which made the lower half of his face look puckered, like a prune. â€Å"Children,† he said, tipping his hat. Will stood up and opened the front door, because that's the kind of guy he was. A gust of wind nearly toppled the old man, and Will steadied him. â€Å"Whoa,† Will said. â€Å"Thank you, son,† the old man replied. His words came out mushy, because of the no-teeth thing. â€Å"Reckon I best skedaddle before the storm blows in.† â€Å"I think it already has,† Will said. Past the driveway, tree branches thrashed and creaked. â€Å"This weensy old wind?† the old man said. â€Å"Aw, now, this is just a baby waking up and wanting to be fed. It'll be worse before the night is over, mark my words.† He peered at us. â€Å"In fact, shouldn't you children be home, safe and sound?† It was hard to take offense when a toothless old-timer called you â€Å"children.† But come on, this was the second time in twenty seconds. â€Å"We're juniors in high school,† I said. â€Å"We can take care of ourselves.† His laugh made me think of dead leaves. â€Å"All right, then,† he said. â€Å"I'm sure you know best.† He small-stepped onto the porch, and Will gave a half wave and shut the door. â€Å"Crazy coot,† came a voice from behind us. We turned to see Madame Zanzibar in the office doorway. She wore hot pink Juicy Couture sweatpants with a matching hot pink top, unzipped to her clavicle. Her breasts were round and firm and amazingly perky, given that she didn't seem to be wearing a bra. Her lipstick was bright orange, to match her nails, and so was the end of the cigarette she held between two fingers. â€Å"So, are we coming in or are we staying out here?† she asked the three of us. â€Å"Unveiling life's mysteries or leaving well enough alone?† I rose from my chair and pulled Yun Sun with me. Will followed. Madame Z ushered us into her office, and the three of us scrunched together in an overstuffed armchair. Will realized it was never going to work and lowered himself to the floor. I wiggled to make Yun Sun give me more room. â€Å"See? They're sausages,† she said, referring to her thighs. â€Å"Scooch,† I commanded. â€Å"Now,† Madame Z said, crossing in front of us and sitting behind a table. She puffed on her cigarette. â€Å"What's your business?† I bit my lip. How to put it? â€Å"Well, you're a psychic, right?† Madame Z exhaled a cloud of smoke. â€Å"Gee, Sherlock, the ad in the Yellow Pages tip you off?† I blushed, while at the same time bristling. My question had been a conversation opener. Did she have a problem with conversation openers? Anyway, if she really was a psychic, shouldn't she already know why I was here? â€Å"Uh†¦ okay. Sure, whatever. So I guess I was wondering†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Yeah? Out with it.† I gathered my courage. â€Å"Well†¦ I was wondering if a certain special person was going to ask me a certain special question.† I purposefully didn't look at Will, but I heard his spurt of surprise. He hadn't seen this coming. Madame Z pressed two fingers to her forehead and let her eyes go blank. â€Å"Ahem,† she said. â€Å"Hmm, hmm. What I'm getting here is muzzy. There is passion, yes†- Yun Sun giggled; Will swallowed audibly-â€Å"but there are also†¦ how do I say? Complicating factors.† Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One Madison Avery and the Dim Reaper Kim Harrison Chapter One If British general, a damsel in a dress, and a pirate walk into a gym, I thought as I gazed over the bodies moving in a mind-numbing chaos of pent-up, inexperienced, teenage lust. Leave it to Covington High to turn prom into a joke. Not to mention my seventeenth birthday. What was I doing here? Prom was supposed to be real dresses with a live band, not rented costumes with canned music and streamers. And my birthday was supposed to be†¦ anything but this. â€Å"You sure you don't want to dance?† Josh yelled in my ear, sending his sugary breath over me. I tried not to grimace, keeping my gaze fixed on the clock beside the gym's Scoreboard and wondering if an hour was long enough to stay and not get the third degree from my dad. The music was dull-the same rhythmic thump over, and over, and over. Nothing new in the last forty minutes. And the bass was way too loud. â€Å"Yep,† I said, edging away in time with the music when his hand tried to creep to my waist. â€Å"Still don't want to dance.† â€Å"Something to drink?† he tried again, and I cocked my hip, crossing my arms to hide my cleavage. I was still waiting for the boob fairy to show up, but the dress's corset shoved everything up and together to make it look like I had more than I did, making me self-conscious. â€Å"No, thanks,† I said with a sigh. He probably didn't hear me, but he got the gist, seeing as he looked away, watching everyone move. Long ballroom gowns and skimpy barmaid costumes mixed with swashbuckling pirates and sailors. That was the theme of the prom. Pirates. God! I had worked for two months on the prom committee at my old school. It was going to have been freaking fantastic, with a moonlit barge and a real band, but no-o-o-o. Mom had said Dad needed to spend time with me. That he was going through a midlife crisis and had to reconnect with something from his past that didn't involve arguing. I think she just got scared when she caught me sneaking out for a late cappuccino and shipped me back to Dad and Dullsville USA knowing I listened to him more than her. Okay, so it had been after midnight. And I might have been after more than caffeine. And yeah, I'd already been grounded from staying out too late the previous weekend, but that's why I had to sneak out. Running the stiff lace of my colonial dress between my fingers, I wondered if any of these people had a clue what a real party looked like. Maybe they didn't care. Josh was standing a little in front of me, bobbing his head in time with the music and clearly wanting to dance. Nearby at the food table was the guy who had skulked in after us. He was looking my way, and I gave him a stare, wondering if he was after me or Josh. Seeing my attention on him, the guy turned away. My gaze fell back on Josh, who had begun to almost dance halfway between me and the moving people. Actually, I mused as he shifted and bobbed his head to the music, his costume made his thin, awkward height work for him-a traditional British general's red and white, complete with fake sword and epaulets. His father's idea, probably, since he was the VIP of VIPs at the research facility that had kept everyone employed when the military base moved to Arizona, but it did go with the overdone lace-and-corset thing I had on. â€Å"Come on. Everyone else is dancing,† he coaxed when he saw me look at him, and I shook my head, almost feeling sorry for him. He reminded me of the guys in the photography club pretending the darkroom door had locked to try to get a little action. It just wasn't fair. I had spent three years learning how to fit in with the cool chicks, and now I was right back with the nice but unpopular guys, mowing down cupcakes in the gym. And on my birthday, too. â€Å"No,† I said flatly. Translation: Sorry, I'm not interested. You may as well give up. Even thick-headed, awkward, broken-glasses Josh got that one, and he stopped his almost-dancing to fix his blue eyes on me. â€Å"Jesus, you're a bitch, you know that? I only asked you out because my dad made me. If you want to dance, I'll be over there.† My breath caught, and I gaped at him as if he had punched me in the gut. He cockily raised his eyebrows and walked away with his hands in his pockets and his chin raised. Two girls parted so he could walk between them, and they hunched into each other in his wake, gossiping as they glanced at me. Oh my God. I'm a pity date. Blinking fast, I held my breath as I fought to keep the room from going blurry. Crap, not only was I the new girl, but I was a freaking pity date! My dad had made nice to his boss, and he made his son ask me out. â€Å"Son of a dead puppy,† I whispered, wondering if everyone was looking at me or if it was just my imagination. I tucked my short blond hair behind my ear and backed to the wall. Leaning against it with my arms crossed, I tried to pretend Josh had gone to get some pop. Inside, I was dying. I had been dumped. No, I had been dumped by a geek. â€Å"Way to go, Madison,† I said sourly, just imagining the gossip on Monday. I spotted Josh at the food table, pretending to ignore me without being obvious about it. The guy in the sailor outfit who had followed us in was talking to him. I still didn't think he was one of Josh's friends, even though he was jostling his elbow and pointing at the girls dancing in dresses cut too low for the gyrating they were doing. That I didn't recognize him wasn't surprising since I'd been avoiding everyone for the simple reason I wasn't happy being here and I didn't mind anyone knowing it. I wasn't a jock or a nerd-though I had belonged to the photography club back home. Despite my efforts, I apparently didn't fit with the Barbie dolls. And I wasn't a goth, brain, druggie, or one of the kids who wanted to play scientist like their mommies or daddies at the research facility. I didn't fit anywhere. Correction, I thought as Josh and the sailor laughed. I fit with the bitches. The guy followed Josh's attention to another group of girls, who were now giggling at something Josh had said. His brown hair was frizzed out under his sailor's cap, and his crisp white outfit made him look like all the other guys who'd chosen sailor over pirate. He was tall, and there was a smooth grace to his movements that said he'd quit growing. He looked older than me, but he couldn't be too much older. It was the prom. And I don't have to be here, I thought suddenly, shoving myself away from the wall with my elbows. Josh was my ride home, but my dad would pick me up if I called. My motion to weave through the crowd to the double doors slowed in worry. He'd ask why Josh wasn't bringing me home. It would all come out. The lecture to be nice and fit in I could deal with, but the embarrassment†¦ Josh was watching me when I glanced up. The guy with him was trying to get his attention, but Josh's eyes were on mine. Mocking me. That did it. No way was I going to call my dad. And I wasn't getting into a car with Josh, either. I'd walk it. All five miles. In heels. And a long cotton dress. On a damp April night. With my boobs scrunched together. What was the worst that could happen? A runaway cow incident? Crap, I really missed my car. â€Å"Way to go, girl,† I muttered, gathering my resolution along with my dress, head down as my shoulders bumped into dancers on my way to the door. I was so out of here. People were talking, but I didn't care. I didn't need friends. Friends were overrated. The music melted into something fast, and I brought my attention up when the crowd seemed to shift, awkwardly changing rhythm. I jerked to a stop when I realized I was a step away from running into someone. â€Å"Sorry!† I shouted over the music, then froze, staring. Holy crap, Mr. Sexy Pirate Captain. Where had he been the last three weeks, and were there more where he came from? I'd never seen him before. Not in the entire time I'd been stuck in this town. I would have remembered. Maybe exerted myself a little more. Flushing, I dropped my skirt to move my hand to cover my cleavage. God, I felt like a British tart with everything shoved up like that. The guy was dressed in a clingy black pirate costume, a pendant of gray stone lying on his chest. I could see it where the collar parted. A Zorro-style mask hid his upper face. The wide silk tails of it trailed down his back to mix with his luscious wavy black hair. He stood taller than me by about five inches, and as I ran my gaze over his tight figure, I wondered where he'd been keeping himself. Certainly not the band room or Mrs. Fairel's U.S. Government class, I thought as the spinning lights played over him. â€Å"My apologies,† he said, taking my hand, and my breath caught, not because he was touching me, but because his accent wasn't Midwestern. Sort of a slow, soft exhalation laced with a crisp preciseness that told of taste and sophistication. I could almost hear the clink of crystal and soft laughter in it, the comforting sounds that more often than not had lulled me to sleep as the waves pushed on the beach. â€Å"You aren't from around here,† I blurted as I leaned to hear him better. A smile grew, his dusky skin and dark hair almost a balm, so familiar amid the pale faces and light hair of the Midwestern prison I was in. â€Å"I'm here temporarily,† he said. â€Å"An exchange student, in a manner of speaking. Same as you.† He glanced disdainfully at the people moving around us with little rhythm and even less originality. â€Å"There are too many cows here, don't you think?† I laughed, praying I didn't sound like a brainless flake. â€Å"Yes!† I almost shouted, pulling him down to talk into his ear over the noise. â€Å"But I'm not an exchange student. I moved here from Florida. My mom lives out there on the inner coastal, but now I'm stuck here with my dad. I agree. You're right, it's awful. At least you get to go home.† And where is home, Mr. Sexy Pirate? A hint of low tide and canal water drifted to me, rising from him like a memory. And though some might find it unpleasant, tears pricked at my eyes. I missed my old school. I missed my car. I missed my friends. Why had Mom gone so ballistic? â€Å"Home, yes,† he said, and an intoxicating smile showed a hint of tongue when he licked his lips and straightened. â€Å"We should leave the floor. We're in the way of their†¦ dancing.† My heart pounded harder. I didn't want to move. He might go away, or worse, someone might slip their arm into his, claiming him. â€Å"Do you want to dance?† I said, nervous. â€Å"It's not what I'm used to, but it has a good beat.† His smile widened, and relief sent my pulse faster. Oh God. I think he likes me. Letting go of my hand, he nodded, and then dropped back a step and started to move. For a moment, I forgot to follow and just watched him. He wasn't flamboyant. No, he went the other way-his slow movements making far more of an impact than if he had cleared the floor by spinning me around it. Seeing me watching, he smiled from behind his mysterious mask and blue-gray eyes as he held out a hand for me to join him. I took a breath, my fingers slipping into his warm ones, and let him pull me into motion. The music was the framework he moved within, and I lost myself trying to match the pattern of it. Almost swaying, we shifted at every second beat. I let myself relax and just dance, finding it easier if I didn't think about it. I could feel every shift of my hips and roll of my shoulders-and a thrill of something began to grow inside me. While everyone around us continued with sharp, fast motions, we danced slow, the space between us narrowing, our gazes fixing more and more on each other as I became increasingly sure of myself. I let him guide me as the music pulsed and my heart pounded with it. â€Å"Most everyone here calls me Seth,† he said, almost ruining the moment, but then his hand curved lightly about my waist, and I leaned into him. Oh yeah. This was better. â€Å"Madison,† I said, liking how I felt, dancing slower than everyone else. But the music was fast, thumping to make my blood race. The two extremes made it seem all the more daring. â€Å"I haven't seen you around. Are you a senior?† Seth's fingers tightened on the light cotton of my dress, or perhaps he was just drawing me closer. â€Å"I'm top of my class,† he said, leaning so he wouldn't have to shout. The colored lights played upon him, and I felt airy. Josh could suck an egg for all I cared. This was what my prom should be. â€Å"That would explain it,† I said, tilting my head to see his eyes and try to place him. â€Å"I'm a junior.† He smiled with his lips closed, and I felt small and protected. My own smile grew. I could feel people starting to watch us, their dancing slowing as they turned. I hoped Josh was getting a good look. Call me a bitch, would he? I lifted my chin, daring to reach out and pull Seth near, our bodies touching, then moving apart. My heart hammered at what I was doing, but I wanted to hurt Josh. I wanted the gossip tomorrow to be what an idiot he had been to walk away from me. I wanted†¦ something. Seth's hands slid smoothly at my waist, neither imprisoning nor demanding, freeing me to dance as I wanted, and I let myself go, motions turning more sultry than these backwoods bumpkins had seen anywhere but on their TV. My lips twitched when I saw Josh and that sailor kid he'd been talking with all this time. Josh's face was white with anger, and I simpered back. â€Å"You want him to know you aren't with him?† Seth said wistfully, and my gaze jerked to his. â€Å"He hurt you,† Seth said, and his dark hand left tingles where it touched my chin. â€Å"You should show him what he lost.† The moment balanced, and though I knew it was spiteful, I found myself nodding. Seth eased to a halt, pulling me into him with a smooth, unbroken gesture. He was going to kiss me. I knew it. It was in every motion he made. My pulse hammered, and I tilted my head up to meet his lips with my own, feeling my knees lock. Around us, people slowed to watch, some laughing, some envious. My eyes closed, and I shifted my weight so that we were still dancing as we kissed. It was everything I wanted. Heat washed into me where we touched, spilling down through me like layers, each flaring up as his touch grew closer. Never had I been kissed like this, and I couldn't breathe, afraid I'd ruin it. My hands were at his waist, and they held him tighter as he cupped my jaw, holding me as if I might break. He tasted like wood smoke. I wanted more-but boy, did I know better. A low sound lifted from him, softer than distant thunder. His hands tightened, and adrenaline spiked through me. The kiss had shifted. Alarmed, I jerked back, breathless but feeling bright-eyed and exhilarated. Seth's moody eyes were fixed on mine with a light amusement that I had pulled away. â€Å"It's only a game,† he said. â€Å"He's wiser, now. So are you. He's not worth pain.† I blinked as the lights spun madly and the music continued, loud and untouched by our kiss. Everything was different, but only I had changed. I tore my gaze from Seth, my hand still on his waist for balance. There were spots of color on Josh's cheeks, and he looked angry. I raised my eyebrows at him. â€Å"Let's go,† I said, linking my arm with Seth's. I didn't think anyone would show up to challenge my position. Not after that kiss. Confident, I stepped forward with Seth beside me. A path opened, and I felt like a queen. Though the music thumped and blared, everyone watched us make our way unimpeded to the double doors with their brown-paper wrappings decorated to look like the oak doors of a castle. Plebeians, I thought when Seth pushed open the door and the cooler air of the hallway hit me. The door closed behind us, and the music dulled. I slowed to a stop, low heels scuffing on the tile. There was a paper-cloth-covered table against the wall with a tired-looking woman checking tickets. Farther down the hall three kids loitered at the main door. The memory of our kiss rose back through me, making me suddenly nervous. This guy was gorgeous. Why was he with me? â€Å"Thank you,† I mumbled, glancing up and away, then warmed as I wondered if he might think I was talking about the kiss. â€Å"I mean, for getting me out of there with my pride intact,† I added, flushing deeper. â€Å"I saw what he did.† Seth rocked us into motion down the hallway away from everyone and to the parking lot. â€Å"It was either that or you dumping punch on his clothes. And you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He hesitated until I looked at him. â€Å"You want your revenge more subtle than that.† A sloppy grin came over me, but I couldn't help it. â€Å"You think?† He inclined his head, acting far older than he should. â€Å"Do you have a ride home?† I jerked to a stop, and he continued a step before turning, his blue-gray eyes wide in alarm. It was cool out here, and I told myself that was why I had a sudden chill. â€Å"I'm†¦ sorry,† he said, blinking and holding himself still. â€Å"I didn't mean†¦ I'll stay with you while you arrange for someone to come. You don't know me from Adam.† â€Å"No, it's not that,† I rushed, embarrassed for my sudden mistrust. I glanced back at the woman by the gym door who was watching us with an idle interest. â€Å"I should call my dad, is all. Let him know what's going on.† Seth smiled, his white teeth showing strongly. â€Å"Of course.† I fumbled for the purse that this dress had come with. He moved away a few feet as I dug out my phone and fidgeted, trying to remember the house's number. There was no answer, and we both turned at the noise of the gym door opening. Josh came out, and my jaw tightened. The answering machine picked up, and in a rush, I blurted, â€Å"Hi, Dad. It's Madison.† Duh. â€Å"I'm getting a ride home with Seth†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I looked at him in question for a last name. â€Å"Adamson,† he said softly, his eyes behind his mask fixed on Josh. Damn, he had beautiful eyes. And long, luscious eyelashes. â€Å"Seth Adamson,† I said. â€Å"Josh turned out to be a jerk. I'll be home in a few minutes, okay?† But since no one was really there, there wasn't much my dad could say. I waited as if listening for a moment, then added, â€Å"I'm fi-i-i-ine. He was a jerk, is all. I'll see you in a minute.† Satisfied, I closed the phone and tucked it away, linking my arm through Seth's and turning us to the back doors as Josh caught up, his dress shoes clacking on the tile. â€Å"Madison†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He was annoyed, and my satisfaction grew. â€Å"Hi, Josh!† I said brightly, my tension rising as he fell into step on my other side. I didn't look at him, and I felt myself go hot. â€Å"I got a ride home. Thanks.† For nothing, I added in my thoughts, still mad at him. Or my dad, maybe, for setting this up. â€Å"Madison, wait.† He caught my elbow, and I spun to a halt. Josh froze, pulling back and letting go. â€Å"You're a jerk,† I said, eyeing his costume and thinking it looked lame now. â€Å"And I'm no one's pity date. You can just†¦ flip off,† I adlibbed, not wanting Seth to think I swore like a sailor. Reaching, Josh grabbed my wrist and yanked me away. â€Å"Listen to me,† he said, and the fear in his eyes stopped my protest. â€Å"I've never seen this guy before. Don't be stupid. Let me take you home. You can tell your friends whatever you want. I'll go along with it.† I tried to take an insulted breath, but the corset wouldn't let me, so I lifted my chin instead. He knew I didn't have any friends. â€Å"I called my dad. I'll be fine,† I said, glancing over his shoulder to the tall kid in that sailor outfit who had followed Josh out. Still Josh wouldn't let go. Ticked, I twisted my arm, and when I reached to grab his wrist in a self-defense hold, he let go as if knowing it. Eyes wide, he backed up a step. â€Å"I'm going to follow you home then,† he said, eyes flicking to Seth. â€Å"Whatever,† I said as I tossed my hair, secretly glad and wondering if maybe Josh wasn't so bad after all. â€Å"Seth, are you in the back lot?† Seth came forward, a softly moving figure of grace and refinement next to Josh's commonality. â€Å"This way, Madison.† I thought I saw a hint of victory in his eyes as his arm slipped through mine. No wonder. He'd obviously come to the prom by himself, and now Josh would be the one leaving alone. I made sure my heels snapped smartly in a show of confident femininity as we went down the hall to the far set of doors. The dress made me feel elegant, and Seth looked fantastic. Josh and his silent buddy trailed behind like extras in a Hollywood film. Seth held the door open for me, leaving the two guys to handle the swinging door by themselves. The air was chilly, and I wished I'd begged for an extra fifty from my dad to get the matching shawl for this outfit. I wondered if Seth would offer me his coat if I complained. The moon was a hazy smear behind the clouds, and as Seth escorted me down the stairs, I could hear Josh behind me, talking softly to his friend in a low, derisive tone. My jaw clenched, and I followed Seth to a sleek black car parked illegally at the curb. It was a convertible, its top open to the cloudy skies, and I couldn't help but smile even wider. Maybe we could go for a drive before he took me home. Cold or not, I wanted to be seen in this car, sitting next to Seth, the wind in my hair and the music cranked. I bet he had great taste in music. â€Å"Madison†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Seth said in invitation, opening the door for me. Feeling awkward and special all at the same time, I eased into the low front seat, my dress sliding on smooth leather. Seth waited while I got the rest of the skirt inside before gently shutting the door. I put on my belt as he crossed behind the car. The black paint glistened in the low glow of the security lights, and I ran my fingers over the smoothness, smug when I saw Josh jogging to his car. Seth startled me when he slid in behind the wheel; I hadn't even heard the door open. He cranked the engine, and I liked the solid rumble of it. The stereo came on with something aggressive. The vocals weren't English, but that only added to it all. Josh's car's lights flashed on, and we pulled forward, Seth driving with one hand. My pulse quickened as I looked at him across the dull light. The cool air felt thick against my skin, and as we picked up speed, the wind worked its way through my hair. â€Å"I live to the south,† I said when we reached the main road, and he turned the proper way. Josh's headlamps swung in behind us, and I settled myself in the seat, wishing Seth had offered me his coat. But he hadn't said a word or looked at me since I'd gotten in the car. Earlier, he'd been all sly confidence. Now it was†¦ anticipation? And though I didn't know why, a slow feeling of alarm took root. As if sensing it, Seth turned, driving the black road without looking. â€Å"Too late,† he said softly, and I felt my face blank. â€Å"Easy. I told them it would be easy when you were young and stupid. Almost not worth the effort. Certainly not any enjoyment.† My mouth went dry. â€Å"Excuse me?† Seth glanced at the road and back at me. The car started to go faster, and I gripped the door handle, pressing away from him. â€Å"Nothing personal, Madison. You're a name on a list. Or should I say, a soul to be culled. An important name, but a name nonetheless. They said it couldn't be done, and now, you'll be my admission to a higher court, you and your little life that will now not happen.† What the hell? â€Å"Josh,† I said, turning to the lights going distant as Seth picked up speed. â€Å"He's following. My dad knows where I am.† Seth smiled, and I shivered at the moonlight glinting on his teeth. Everything else was lost in hazy moon shadow and the shriek of the wind. â€Å"Like that will make a difference?† Oh my God. I was deep in it. My gut tightened. â€Å"Stop the car,† I said forcefully, one hand on the door, the other holding my whipping hair out of my eyes. â€Å"Stop the car and let me out. You can't do this. People know where I am! Stop the car!† â€Å"Stop the car?† he said, smirking. â€Å"I'll stop the car.† Seth shifted his leg, stomping on the brake and turning the wheel. I screamed, grabbing anything. The world spun. My breath left me in a shriek as the odd feeling of too much noise mixed with the cessation of jostling. We had left the road. Gravity pulled from the wrong way. Panic struck when I realized the car was flipping over. Shit. I was in a convertible. I ducked, hands clasped over the back of my neck, praying. A hard thump shook me and everything went black. My breath was crushed from me by the force of the hit. I think I was upside down. Then I was yanked another way. The sky brightened to gray, and I sucked in the air when the car flipped once more as it rolled down the embankment. Again, the sky went black and the top of the car hit the ground. â€Å"No!† I shrieked, helpless, then groaned when the car slammed to a stop, upright. I was flung against the seat belt, agony stabbing through my back as I was thrown forward. It was quiet. Breathing hurt. Oh God, I hurt all over, and I stared at the shattered windshield as I panted. The new edges of the window glinted dully in the moonlight, and I followed the broken line down the dash to find Seth gone. My insides hurt. I didn't see blood, but I think I broke something inside. I was alive? â€Å"Madison!† came distant over my rasping breath. â€Å"Madison!† It was Josh, and I forced my eyes up to the twin balls of light at the top of the embankment. A shadowy figure was sliding down. Josh. I took a breath to call to him, groaning when someone took my head and turned me away. â€Å"Seth?† I whispered. He looked untouched, standing outside the ruined car at my door in his costume of black pirate silk. The moon caught his eyes and pendant, giving them both a gray sheen. â€Å"Still alive,† he said flatly, and tears started to slip from me. I couldn't move, but everything was a massive ache so I didn't think I was paralyzed. Damn it, this was a sucky birthday. Dad was going to kill me. â€Å"I hurt,† I said, my voice small, then thought, What a stupid thing to say. â€Å"I don't have time for this,† Seth said, clearly bothered. My eyes widened, but I didn't move when he pulled from the folds of his costume a short blade. I tried to cry out, but my breath left me when he pulled his arm back as if to strike me. Moonlight glinted on the blade, red with someone else's blood. Fantabulous. He's a psycho. I left the prom with a knife-wielding psycho. Can I pick 'em, or what? â€Å"No!† I shrieked, managing to get my arms up, but the blade was a whisper of ice passing through me, leaving me unhurt. I stared at my middle, not believing I was uncut. My dress wasn't torn and blood wasn't flowing, but I knew that blade had gone through me. It had gone through me and the car both. Not understanding, I gaped up at Seth, now standing with the blade at rest and watching me. â€Å"What†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I tried to say when I realized nothing hurt anymore. But my voice was utterly absent. He arched his eyebrows in a show of scorn. My expression left me when I felt the first brush of utter nothing, both new and familiar, like a memory long lost. The terrifying absence of everything crept through me, stilling each thought it rolled over. Soft and muzzy, a blanket of nothing started at the edges of my world and moved inward, taking first the moon, then the night, then my body, and finally the car. Josh's cries were swallowed up in a low hush of a thrum, leaving only Seth's silver eyes. And then Seth turned and walked away. â€Å"Madison!† I heard faintly, followed by the briefest touch on my cheek. Then even that melted and there was nothing. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter One The Exterminator's Daughter Meg Cabot Mary The music is pounding in time to my heartbeat. I can feel the bass in my chest-badoom, badoom. It's hard to see across the room of writhing bodies, especially with the fog from the dry ice, and the flickering light show coming down from the club's industrial ceiling overhead. But I know he's here. I can feel him. Which is why I'm grateful for the bodies grinding against one another all around me. They're keeping me hidden from his view-and from his senses. Otherwise he'd have smelled me coming by now. They can detect the scent of fear from yards away. Not that I'm scared. Because I'm not. Well. Maybe a little. But I have my Excalibur Vixen crossbow 285 FPS with me, with a twenty-inch-long Easton XX75 (the tip, formerly gold, now replaced with hand-carved ash) already cocked and ready to be released at the merest pressure from my finger. He'll never know what hit him. And, hopefully, neither will she. The important thing is to get a clean shot-which won't be easy in this crowd-and to make it count. I'll probably only get one chance to shoot. Either I'll hit the target†¦ or he'll hit me. â€Å"Always aim for the chest,† Mom used to say. â€Å"It's the largest part of the body, and the spot you're least likely to miss. Of course, you're more likely to kill than wound if you aim for the chest rather than the thigh or arm†¦ but what do you want to wound for, anyway? The point is to take 'em down.† Which is what I'm here to do tonight. Take ‘im down. Lila will hate me, of course, if she figures out what really happened†¦ and that it was me who did it. But what does she expect? She can't think that I'm just going to sit idly by and watch her throw her life away. â€Å"I met this guy,† she'd gushed at lunch today, while we were standing in line for the salad bar. â€Å"Oh my God, Mary, you wouldn't believe how cute he is. His name's Sebastian. He's got the bluest eyes you've ever seen.† The thing about Lila that a lot of people don't get is that beneath that-let's face it-slutty exterior beats the heart of a truly loyal friend. Unlike the rest of the girls at Saint Eligius, Lila's never pulled an attitude with me about the fact that my dad's not a CEO or plastic surgeon. And yeah, okay, I have to tune out about three-fourths of what she says because most of it is stuff that I have no interest in-like how much she paid for her Prada tote at the end-of-season clearance sale at Saks, and what kind of tramp stamp she's thinking about getting next time she's in Cancn. But this caught my attention. â€Å"Lila,† I said. â€Å"What about Ted?† Because Ted's all Lila has talked about for the past year, ever since he finally got up the guts to ask her out. Well, I mean, all she's talked about besides the Prada sales and back tattoos. â€Å"Oh, that's over,† Lila said, reaching for the lettuce tongs. â€Å"Sebastian's taking me clubbing tonight-at Swig. He says he can get us in-he's on the VIP list.† It wasn't the fact that this guy, whoever he was, claimed to be on the VIP list of the newest and most exclusive club in downtown Manhattan that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Don't get me wrong-Lila's beautiful. If anyone is going to be approached by a random stranger who happens to be on the most sought-after VIP list in town, it would be Lila. It was the thing about Ted that got to me. Because Lila adores Ted. They're the quintessentially perfect high school couple. She's gorgeous, he's a star athlete†¦ it's a match made in teen heaven. Which is why what she was telling me did not compute. â€Å"Lila, how can you say it's over between you and Ted?† I demanded. â€Å"You two have been going out forever†-or at least since I arrived at Saint Eligius Prep in September, where Lila was the first (and, to date, pretty much the only) girl in any of my classes to actually speak to me-â€Å"and it's the prom this weekend.† â€Å"I know,† Lila said, with a happy sigh. â€Å"Sebastian's taking me.† â€Å"Seb-â€Å" That's when I knew. I mean, really knew. â€Å"Lila,† I said. â€Å"Look at me.† Lila looked down at me-I'm small. But, as Mom used to say, I'm fast-and I saw it at once. What I should have seen from the beginning, that ever-so-slightly glazed expression-the dull eyes†¦ the soft lips-that I've come to know so well over the years. I couldn't believe it. He'd gotten to my best friend. My only friend. Well. What was I supposed to do? Sit back and let him take her? Not this time. You'd think seeing a girl with a crossbow on the dance floor of Manhattan's hottest new club would maybe generate a comment or two. But it is Manhattan, after all. Besides, everyone is having too good a time to notice me. Even- Oh God. It's him. I can't believe I'm finally seeing him in the flesh†¦ Well, his son, anyway. He's more handsome than I ever imagined. Golden-haired and blue-eyed, with movie star-perfect lips and shoulders a mile wide. He's tall, too-although most guys are tall-compared with me. Still, if he is anything like his father, well, then, I get it. I finally get it. I guess. I still don't- Oh God. He's sensed my gaze. He's turning this way- It's now or never. I raise my bow: Good-bye, Sebastian Drake. Good-bye forever. But just as I have the bright white triangle of his shirt front in my scope, something unbelievable happens: A bright bloom of cherry red appears exactly where I've been aiming. Except I haven't pulled the trigger. And his kind doesn't bleed. â€Å"What's that, Sebastian?† Lila shimmies up to him to ask. â€Å"Dammit! Somebody†-and I see Sebastian raise his stunned cerulean gaze from the scarlet stain on his shirt to Lila's face-â€Å"shot me.† It's true. Someone has shot him. Only it wasn't me. And that's not all that doesn't make sense. He's bleeding. Except that's not possible. Not knowing what else to do, I duck behind a nearby pillar, pressing the Vixen to my chest. I need to regroup, figure out my next move. Because none of this can really be happening. I couldn't have been wrong about him. I did the research. It all makes sense†¦ the fact that he's here in Manhattan†¦ the fact that he went after my best friend, of all people†¦ Lila's dazed expression†¦ everything. Everything except what just happened. And I had just stood there, staring. I had had a perfect shot, and I'd blown it. Or had I? If he's bleeding, then that must mean he's human. Doesn't it? Except if he's human, and he's just been shot in the chest, why is he still standing? Oh God. The worst of it is†¦ he saw me. I'm almost sure I felt that reptilian gaze pass over me. What will he do now? Will he come after me? If he does, it's all my own fault. Mom told me never to do this. She always said a hunter never goes out alone. Why didn't I listen? What was I thinking? That's the problem, of course. I hadn't been thinking at all. I'd let my emotions get the better of me. I couldn't let what happened to Mom happen to Lila. And now I'm going to pay for it. Just like Mom. Crouching in agony, I try not to imagine what Dad's going to do when the New York City police ring our doorbell at four in the morning and ask him to come to the morgue to ID his only daughter's body. My throat will be gouged open, and who knows what other atrocities will be done to my broken body. All because I didn't stay home tonight to work on my paper for Mrs. Gregory's fourth-period U.S. History class (topic: the temperance movement in antebellum Civil War America, two thousand words, double-spaced, due Monday), like I was supposed to. The music changes. I hear Lila squeal, â€Å"Where are you going?† Oh God. He's coming.