What if relationships ran deeper, that a simple action missed by the human eye solved an entire mystery? What if the heart worked above human mind, that lust fueled our actions and that an entire niche could be fractured by one alteration? Emotions don't always appear as they seem they travel past our exterior and are only apparent in our eyes. But it's a subtle flicker that shines our guilt and the ones we have betrayed will hardly see it unless doubt is instilled. But who are the real victims? Is it the one left out of the loop, the one who had it one moment and lost it the next? Or is it the one who acted on impulses the one who was being held back by a crush they weren't willing to break? Perhaps the only way we can understand is to glance into the workings of the human heart.

“So, we can conclude that film mysteries don't differ from literary ones, at all,” Dawson Leery continued over the soft hum of the video projector flashing images on the screen. The muffled lights of blues and grays the only illumination in the room. “The genre's still constructed in three sections,” he explained.

Andie McPhee kept her eyes plastered to the presentation the simple act of frowning impossible for her on this current day as she jotted down a few notes on her notepad she glanced over at Pacey. Pacey Witter, her boyfriend, she sighed heavily. “The setup, the testimonies, and the classic day neu mof where all the characters are gathered in one room;” Pacey glanced at her over his shoulder biting harshly onto his lip before scribbling over the contents on his sheet of loose-leaf, fiddling with the stray of ripped binding in the spiral.

“While the likes of Charlie Chan or Miss Marble give their final monologue revealing the killer's identity.” Jen doodled in her notebook only staying focused on the sound of Dawson's voice every so often glancing up to capture his eye a small smile curving her lips. “The key to solving any great crime is a practical understanding of human behavior.”

Joey Potter tucked an ambiguous strand of hair from her eyes for the eighteenth time that period as she stared at the blank page in front of her trying her best to pay attention to Dawson's presentation. Their eyes met briefly and both quickly looked away, “For it is there, that the motives are discovered and the greatest truths are revealed.” Jack scribbled a few more words leafing the remaining pages through his thumb and forefinger, “And, remember, you never know when a mystery will find you.”

The lights flashed off a scream echoing through the small classroom from the audio player behind the projector, “Thank you Mr. Leery,” Mr. Peterson chuckled reaching over for the light switch, “Always one for the theatrics.” Dawson nodded burying his hands in his pocket the folds of paper within it catching on his finger as he trudged past Jen's desk followed by Joey's finally taking a seat behind Andie. “I think we have time for one more...Abby! What incredible insight do you bring to the mystery genre?” Mr. Peterson asked walking down the isles and stopping at Abby Morgan's desk.

“Actually, Mr. Peterson, I don't have my project,” Abby explained twisting her pen between her fingers. “You see, the most tragic thing occurred while I was working on it. Our family pet, a very temperamental schnauzer named Giggles, got underneath the bathroom sink and chewed up a whole box of chocolate-flavored laxatives that my dad sometimes needs.” She continued with a shrug, “So anyways, Giggles ate the whole box and he bled to death, internally. Apparently, chocolate laxatives are toxic to dogs.”

“It's a shame, Ms. Morgan, that you can't find a more productive outlet for your creative lying,” Mr. Peterson smirked.

“I'm not lying,” Abby gasped feigning offense.

“Please, let's just stick to the fundamentals. The alphabet. The letter 'F'. If you don't turn in your project, I'll see to it that you fail this course,” Mr. Peterson finished as the bell rang. “Tomorrow, we are hosting a book fair in the school cafeteria. I remind you, as literary scholars, your attendance is mandatory,” he called out to the students as they filed out of the classroom.

Chris Wolfe shrugged his backpack over his shoulders running a lazy hand through his hair falling in stride with the remaining students towards the door. Popping his pen closed it slipped through his grasp bouncing on the floor and rolling a good distance across the room. Slipping out of the line towards freedom he headed over a couple rows of desks.

"Watch it," Joey sneered as Chris squished between her and a desk.

"Sorry sweetheart, maybe later," he winked as he headed down the row towards his one and only pen. Triumphantly he reached his trusty Bic ballpoint crouching onto the floor he swept it into his hand coming in contact with a folded piece of loose leaf. "What do we have here?" He asked himself unfolding the sheet a wide grin stretching across his face:

I want to talk to you about last night. The whole night was amazing, but sex changes everything. And I think we should take some time and talk before anything happens again.

-July 2004

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