~*Epologue*~
~*5 Months Later*~

McKenzie's eyes were fixed on Tricia's new home intensely as the rusty, yellow cab rounded Robin St, the lustrious 2-floor light brown tutor-style home with a wrap-around porch Tricia has described over the phone enticing McKenzie's anxiousnes, butterflies on crack circling in her stomach, heat rising from the pores below her yellow princess-cut tank top like steam from a tired, overworked engine. The anticipation of their reunion after 5 months of separation bubbled up from her heart to her face, a genuine joyous smile slipping through her mouth. Pain bit like a bear trap in her brace-bounded left knee, just one of the many injuries she received when she fell out Lea's window. Death was almost upon her to pull her to the other side with his misty, invisable hands, but Jesse's quick call saved her; Jesse was her angel.

With the trial just behind them, McKenzie and Tricia could live on and discuss the possibility of Tricia returning to Westchester for her junior year. That thought alone could melt the iciest day in stark winter; the winter that engulfed over McKenzie's lonely life during the past few months.

McKenzie drifted off into the not-so-distant past as the cab rumbled down the street, the bumps and dips hastily driven over barely registering on her comfort meter. McKenzie sat in the cold witness chair, the cheap, wooden ceiling fan barely cutting through the tension boiling in the room, trembling inside like she was going to explode, dozens of ghastly eyes set on her, scrutinizing her, judging her, Zach's deserving fate resting in her hands and her recollection of that terrifying night, and she pulled through scott free. Zach was convicted of 2 terms of attempted murder and sentance to 25 years in prison and 750 hours of community service. For some reason, it didn't seem justified to her, justified to all gays with Zachs tormenting and destroying their innocent lives, but in the eyes of the court, justice was served and that's all that mattered. It was the most nerve-racking, emotionally trying experience of McKenzie's life; she never wanted to go through that again.

An abrupt stop jerked her from her daze, the short chinese man turning from the driver's seat to her to ask her for the fare, his pudgy hand trusted toward her face like the limb of a tree. McKenzie dug through her blue wallet and handed the man the $12.50 for the fare. With laggard endurance, she scooted out of the car, the sun finally seeping through the dark, powdery clouds to welcome her neighborly to Florida, the Sunshine state. She grappled with revolting fingers to clasp her battered, brown leather suitcase; another reprocussion of her hopeless attitude. The cab sped of, leaving her alone in the deserted street, her head leveling to meet with the white door that closed the possibilities of the past 5 months between McKenzie and Tricia.

She strolled on the grey cobblestone path up to the house, the house looming closer and closer toward God and the heavens as she dropped her suitcase on the white porch, her flimsy nerves unable to hold the torture of the weight. She inhailed the native, clean, Florida air for some energy, the crisp air swimming through her body like surging adrenaline as she knocked on the door, a spark of fear igniting at the base of her brain as the door slowly opened.

There Tricia stood in all her beauty, her long, black hair just as McKenzie recollected, resting a little past her shoulders, her full, red lips in a staight line as low notes of nible fingers on the piano surrounding her; Some things never change. Tricia's dark eyes began to sparkle and her smile began to augment; McKenzie's heart fluttered. Tricia's arms flew around McKenzie, her head tunneled deep into McKenzie's shoulder like an ostrich's head in sand. McKenzie was beaming in bliss; the embrace something she had been longing for like an addict craves violently for the sinful taste of drugs. It felt like thousands of tiny, tingly butterfly kisses hugged her body. Tricia let go, her eyes meeting with McKenzie's tears. They both laughed, overwhelmed that this day had finally come. McKenzie didn't know how she lasted so long without Tricia in her life; must be, as Jesse applauds her for, her strenght. They couldn't utter a word and they didn't need to; they knew how much they cared for each other even through all those difficult times...

"How's Jesse?" Tricia asked, gingerly carrying a tray holding two glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade, her eyes hovering over them as if to keep them from not tipping over. She sat next to McKenzie on the wickered bench, gently laying the tray on the matching table.

"Pretty good," McKenzie told her, reaching for her glass of chilly lemonade. She stole a few moments, allowing the bitter-sweet liquid quench her parched thirst, then continued. "He's gotten even taller! Now he's 6 feet taller than me, not the usual 5." Two sets of chuckles mixed harmonously in the air, then died down. "He got his braces off last month, he's really happy about that. Dream Street Mania has begun; they're touring with *NSYNC during Christmas Break."

"Wow, that's great," Tricia replied earnestly, her eyes traveling to the setting sun hiding like a chid behind the row of houses across the street, sneakily and unexpectedly. Tricia turned to McKenzie, a content smile permeating on her lips. "How are you?"

McKenzie pondered the question a moment, running her thumb and eyes around the top of her glass, "Better, now that I'm with you," McKenzie finally responded, capping her right hand over the glass and locking her eyes with Tricia's. "It's over...all over."

"I know," Tricia sighed with happiness and thankfulness, resting her hand on McKenzie's and patting it like a mother would. McKenzie glanced down on her action and beamed a smile.

"Oh yeah," McKenzie shouted, fishing through her jeans' pocket for something. Her face contorted into a face of a circus clown as her search traveled deeper and deeper into her pockets. She pulled out a yellow piece of paper and handed it to Tricia, confusion diffusing on Tricia's placid face. "I gave this out to every homeroom at the beginning of the year." Still, Tricia stared down at her hand inquizzatively, her face clouded over. "Go ahead, read it." Tricia lifted her feet to the table, utilizing it as a footrest as she began to read...

This past June, some things had been stolen from me, taken without my consent or approval. First of which was my dignity, my livelihood. Because of the vicious attacks of Zach Kellen and some of you, I felt sorry, felt sad, felt guilty for being gay. I felt I was wrong to feel the way I did; that it wasn't natural. The only person who comforted me and felt the same way was Tricia Borg, who was the second thing taken away from me. I love her. I do and I am now not afraid to say that. And it was because of Zach's beating of my friend Luke that Tricia was sent to Florida, practically sent to Mars. We talk and write almost every day, but it isn't the same. Knowing she can't be at my side at my request guts me inside. It literally makes me sick that someone's ignorance can destroy someone's beliefs, traditions, way of life.
I do not expect any of you to accept or even understand why I am gay. I do not expect praise for what I am about to say. I want you to think about this; are "we" different than you? Don't we go to the same school, watch the same things, eat the same food? If we're like you, then what drives someone like Zach to fear us, make us feel alien, foolish, wrong? If you learn only one lesson in school, make sure it's this one. Hate kills and haters pay. There's so much we can learn from each other because we are all people. That's the bottom line. So before you call someone gay a name, or pick on a freshmen, or do anything to belittle someone, think of this; Are they different from me?
Yes, for some of you who remember the me from 5 years ago when I learned in your classrooms, ate at your tables, played in your backyards, I have changed, but so have you.
-McKenzie Jacobs