Logan Kikkert looked so cute in his Smoothie Shack uniform.

All the CSHS girls knew it, and every Saturday afternoon a hefty percentage of them made pilgrimage to Silversun Crossings to give their homage in the form of their breathless patronage. They prowled the food court like lionesses, making passes at each other every once in a while -- but mostly focused on Logan as he bobbed around behind the counter. His huge grin and bouncy curls were made all the cuter thanks to that silly white hat, and the bright blue of his uniform.

To put it simply, Logan was more than just the boy you wanted to bring home to mom. He was the boy your grandmother pointed out when she flipped through your yearbook, the one who made her stop and go -- "Well, who is this?" With his charming, harmless disposition, he came across rather like an enthusiastic puppy. An enthusistic puppy with great hair, and a perfect smile.

For the most part, Logan wasn't entirely aware of his thronging worshippers. He just did his own thing every Saturday -- coming in cheerfully for his shift, no matter the spectators. It was just the right brand of 'painfully oblivious' that made Sheri, who ran the register along with him, want to grab him by the collar and shake him. Hard.

Yeah, like that would go over well. Sheri was fully aware of the dirty looks she garnered from Logan's weekly fan club. None of that really mattered to her. They were all ten years younger, and forty pounds lighter than she was.

Anyways -- the more he smiled, the more they tipped.

Bring it on, Casanova.

The Smoothie Shack had the false feel of a 1960's diner, complete with odd-colored tiles slapped here and there, not to mention framed photos of classic cars no teenager could name anyways. To finish things off, there was a fake red barstool next to the register. Although it wasn't actually for sitting on, when Logan had his Saturday shift, that simple accent piece beacame a coveted spot -- a Holy of Holies, a Siege Perilous, if you will.

If a girl could wedge herself in there, she'd have an excuse to stay and sip her smoothie -- attaining for herself a larger portion of Logan's innocent attention. As the stool was for decoration and hidden mostly under the counter, that was no simple feat in itself.

Nicole Trawley -- (or "Nikki with two ks'" as she so often insisted) -- was petite enough that she could manage it without even needing to suck in her gut. She sat there, now, legs uncomfortably bunched as she finished off her third Appleberry Blitz. Despite the pain, she felt herself laughing inside, in victory. Her blue eyes were wide, every fiber of her being focused on Logan, nodding, nodding, nodding.

Competition for the Siege Perilous was fierce on any Saturday, but this particular one held even greater bounty. Across the food court, the Lockes Theater was showing a handful of high-profile premiers. Shiny posters glinted against the skylight, advertizing a remake of an 80's thriller, a few off-beat comedies and lastly -- a C grade slasher flick on 'limited' release that Logan was chomping at the bit to go see.

There would be Facebook drama about it later, but Nikki had picked the best weekend to claim Siege Perilous as her own. With all his pent up cinema excitement, Nikki was treated to a few long monologues about how awesome the film was going to be. She kept waiting for the right moment to slip in and ask him if he wanted to go with her -- but the chance hadn't come yet.

"Oh man!" Logan whirled from the juicer to the ice machine, an elegant and effortless dance. "So what happens is the zombies take over the town, right? And the main characters are all -- 'holy crap! Like, what are we gonna do?' And the zombies are all trying to eat their brains, right And there's only one kid who really knows what to do, because he's made so many zombie plans in the past, right? And he brings them to this place where they, like, they find the secret origin of what the zombies want and stuff. But you don't know if he makes it out or not because there was this scene in the extended trailer where you saw him all looking like a zombie, and that'd be awful for the rest of his friends, right? Since he was the only one with any sense. But you know, if it were me I'd pretend to be a zombie, use makeup and stuff just to get away from them. You know? Oh man, it's going to be awesome. It's going to be so freaking awesome. I'm just waiting for them to go pew pew to Mickey Rouston's head. He has a cameo, you know." Logan snapped a cap on Nikki's fourth Appleberry Blitz, then slid it across the counter.

To her credit -- when the pause came, Nikki didn't miss a beat.

"That movie sounds fascinating!" She gushed automatically. "Do you think you'll, um, go to see it with anyone?"

"Jordan, probably."

"Oh." Nikki's voice became brittle. "Jordan."

Her phone rang. She didn't answer it.

"Sounds like quite a film." Sheri spoke up dryly from the counter. She nodded at Nikki. "That'll be another four dollars, sweetheart."

Nikki fished for the crumpled bills, defeated, and slammed them on the counter. "Keep the change."

At an oldies-themed Smoothie Shack, it was appropriate to have oldiest-themed music. Logan usually had WSKY playing in the background for his shift, but for the past twenty minutes or so, all he had been hearing was some weird monotone commercial.

Thinking vaguely that it must have been some paid programming, Logan reached behind him and switched the radio off.

As though they could sense Nikki's failure, more girls swung in for the kill, sliding up to the counter batting their eyelashes, and snickering behind their hands.

"Oh, hey! Welcome to Smoothie Shack!" Logan beamed, tipping his hat as Sheri rolled her eyes. "May I take your order?"

Dawn was not amused.

This wasn't an unusual situation; everyone who knew Dawn was well aware that the girl quite often sported an irked frown upon her forehead. It was general consensus amongst the male friends that this was, rather than off-putting, in face quite appealing, and looked somewhat cute upon her pretty features. It was also general consensus that telling her this was something along the borderline of suicide. And so Dawn remained single, despite the long line of admirers - they were all a little too intimidated by her to speak to her, by and the large, let alone ask her out anywhere.

Dawn was, however, unamused for a particularly specific reason this time, and this reason was the large gaggle of Kikkert-watchers in front of her that were impeding her objective of obtaining a deluxe strawberry and vanilla smoothie with added sprinkles. Standing towards the rear of the rapidly forming queue, Dawn maintained by sheer force of will a small area of personal space, into which none of the Kikkert-watchers dared penetrate. There was a shared understanding between them that Dawn was a) not here to gawk at some pretty boy in a silly uniform, and b) quite ready to step on the toes of any half-wit harpy that tried to insinuate such, or in fact engage in conversation beyond that which was necessary for practical proceedings such as establishing queueing order.

Whilst the male associates of Miss Keating had a wary respect and shared liking for her, it was quite the opposite amongst the majority of her female compatriots, such as those that now mingled about her like a herd of gazelle surveying a lightly restrained lioness. Most girls had a seething dislike for the pretty redhead who commanded the attention of the boys via merit of having no time whatsoever for them herself, a seeping jealousy for the way in which she trod all over their devious matchmaking plans by distracting a boy's fancy, or pointing out the obvious set-up before the net had time to close, and a burning desire to see her put in her damn place as she bulldozered her way through social etiquette. This was not all inclusive, of course, Dawn had plenty of friends that found her manner likeable - but they were exceptions to the norm.

Becoming increasingly frustrated by the dithering and fawning of the girls up front, who obviously had no real intention of purchasing themselves a smoothie, rather prolonging their time in parley with Logan for as long as possible, Dawn decided that enough was enough.

Stepping from the line with pointed determination, the redhead paced her way along past the line of gob-smacked girls and directly to the counter itself. This was in itself sacrilege, queue jumping was something that you just didn't do, and because it was one of those things, people were powerless to do anything about it when you did.

Mind, in Britain, she would probably have been shot. Or at least, told to jolly well bugger off, or get a bit of the old one two, quite rightly so if I do say so myself, bloody skipper.

"Afternoon, Sheri." Dawn said, smiling to the larger woman, dropping her frown for the time being.

This was a tactical move, diplomatic. The girls behind, currently frozen in horror at the breach of 'what was done', would not begin to fear that their arch-nemesis had taken a shining to their idol, and suddenly evidence more womanly wiles than any girl had a right to possess, due to a debt of seduction built up over years of remaining entirely nonchalant about men in general. It only made sense in their movie-brainwashed minds that the girl who commanded the boys' attention without seeming to notice, and the boy who commanded the girls' attention without seeming to notice would inevitably end up leaping into each other's arms after merely moments of conversation. This was what happened in the movies, therefore it was akin to law in their heads.

The redhead did, then turn her head to Logan, and offer another smile, perhaps a little sweeter, just to strike fear into their hearts. "Logan." she continued, "You have smoothie on your collar."

This, a casual observation that to most would mean absolutely nothing more than a friendly pointer, but to teenage girls would send alarm bells ringing and klaxons wailing, was to remind them that she was still in charge here, she had the attention of their precious Logan, and she was going to get her smoothie with absolutely no interference.

"Just a regular strawberry deluxe with sprinkles, sweetie." she finally, after a nail-biting moment, came out with.

There was a heart wrenching moment where every girl in the line suppressed a screech (and one particularly fragile individual let out a quiet, and swiftly hushed squeak), when they believed that she was still speaking to Logan. Sweetie? Sweetie? She dared call their idol, sweetie? Thankfully (for them) the redhead then turned her head towards Sheri, indicating that she had been speaking to the other woman instead.

All of these devious and twisted mind games happened over the course of three sentences. Nobody but teenage girls could possibly understand the veritable odyssey of drama that had occurred in those seconds, that could only be surpassed by whatever momentous news would inevitably reach them tomorrow.

Or, you know, by a cult of mages taking over the world.

That might do it too.

In that elapsed timeframe of ten, maybe fifteen seconds Nikki's facial features kaleidoscoped through the whole spectrum of human emotions. Surprise, anger, fear, and a flicker of sadness sort of swirled around into one general jaw-dropped expression as Dawn blew up to the counter. Nikki watched helplessly as Dawn did the unthinkable -- eclipsed the power of Siege Perilous, and addressed Logan as though he were just some hapless slob.

The roving hyenas still in line couldn't do much. They were in a similar paralytic state. Sheri couldn't hide her smirk as they wisely wandered off, a bit shell-shocked, throwing a dirty look over their shoulders every few paces.

"Bless your heart, angel. Regular strawberry deluxe with sprinkles coming right up." Sheri could barely contain her glee. She shook her head in wonderment.

Meanwhile, Nikki was in an uncomfortable position, both physically and socially. She had wedged herself in against the fake barstool and the counter with such fervor, that her plan -- which involved quietly slipping away -- was rather thwarted. Short of dislocating her hip and leaving Silversun on a stretcher, the girl was fairly well stuck. Nikki sat there and tried to bear it as best she could, resting her chin on her arm, trying not to let her eyes water from the pain.

Even though Nikki felt vaguely like a piece of meat strung up in front of a vengeful lioness, she played it cool and offhand to the end. She took the time to examine the nails on her left hand, even though her eyes were really following Logan as he filled Dawn's order.

"You seen Zombpocalypse yet?" Logan asked Dawn, wide-eyed, as he shook out a generous amount of sprinkles. "Limited release. We're one of the few theaters that gets a copy. It's showing right now." The youth craned his head to the side, peering across the food court at the gaggle of patrons around the Lockes ticket booth. "Oh man, it's going to be so awesome. Jordan and I are planning on seeing it tonight. Kyle might come too, if he's done being a d-bag. Did you hear about that? No, of course not."

It was just the usual prattle Logan went off into. He capped the smoothie and slid it across the counter to the girl. "There you go, red."

There wasn't a man at Cedar Springs High who would dare to call Dawn by the color of her hair. Logan wasn't being coy or rude or cocky about it. It was just what he called her, once in a while -- his genuine demeanor, and the fact that they had a mutual best friend was probably the only thing that prevented him from getting socked in the mouth right then.

"Hey, who turned the radio down?" Sheri tisked. She crossed their small work space, and cranked the radio back up. "I wanna listen to my man Dan. Play me some Skynrd, white boy .. "

Upon hearing that same high, cold monotone commercial as before, Sheri ducked her head to the speaker with her nose wrinkled. "Never heard that before."

"It's just some infomercial!" Logan called over his shoulder. He turned back to the girls in front of him.

"Okay." He said, holding his hands out as though he were about to say something really important. "Listen up. So you know the Appleberry blitz, right? Well, I'm gonna do this thing where every time I hand one over to a customer-- " He groped behind him for an empty cup to mime this action, " -- I'm gonna be like, 'Hey! When is an apple not an apple?'"

He paused. They did not provide a punchline.

"When it's .. oh, come on. When it's a pineapple!"

Logan practically staggered against the counter, bent double laughing so hard.

Nikki gave a few sharp titters. "Aha. Ha. I get it. Oh my, you're funny Logan."

"Logan. So help me -- do not start telling customers that joke." Sheri straightened, and rolled her eyes.

"I thought it was a good one." Nikki offered helpfully.

"Know what that's from? That's from the Zombpocalypse trailer they released in Sweeden." Logan was suddenly serious business. He pointed a commanding finger across the food court again. "Kevin Costner has all sorts of great fruit-based one-liners in that movie. He's a grocer when the zombies come to take over the world and eat his brains and stuff. You know what's interesting about that? There are some leading scientists who think that zombification is just the advanced stages of scurvy. Which, I'll have you know, can be deterred by eating fruit, or something. Trust me. I found it on the internet."

Logan mimed pulling a price-check gun. "Paper .. or plastic?"

Sheri kept scrolling through radio stations. Slowly, she began to realize that that same odd infomercial was on KWV, LAV, B-94 ..

"You know what, angelbabies?" Sheri glanced behind her again. "I'm starting to think that -- "

But they never got to hear what Sheri thought.

Several things happened at once. A sound like rushing wings filled the food court, accompanied by a handful of blinding flashes -- split between half-second intervals. Logan cursed and dropped behind the counter on reflex, dragging Sheri with him.

There were screams and shouts in the air, now -- the general sound of alarm.

Logan slowly got back up to his feet. He wished he hadn't.

It was a jumbled scene before him. All Logan saw, mostly, was the blur of people running, panicking. He squinted beyond the churning mass of humanity to a few tall men in billowing robes. Others stood near them, normal-looking people except for their tall blue hats.

There was no real way to explain how Logan knew what he did. Maybe it was the product of watching way too many zombie movies, or maybe he was just bored -- but Logan understood in an instant that this wasn't normal, this wasn't right, and they had to get out of there.

"Here!" Was all Logan said. He gestured to Dawn and to Nikki, indicating that they should get behind the counter. "Come on!"

Nikki managed to finally break herself free from Siege Perilous, just as a high cold voice echoed through the food court, magnified a thousandfold.

"REMAIN CALM."

Logan heard Sheri curse. She was still crouched on the floor near Logan's feet. He glanced down. She held up her phone. Though it appeared to be off, the bright red words on the LCD screen were clear.

"DO NOT RESIST."

They changed before his eyes, just as the booming voice continued. Logan dug for his own phone. It felt warm in his palm. The block letters traced themselves against the black, arranging neatly.

"PLEASE."

There was something mocking about the word 'please'. Logan felt his heart thumping in his chest. He set his phone on the counter, then lifted his gaze pleadingly to Dawn and to Nikki.

"Let's go." He whispered. "I don't care who they are."

"WE WILL USE FORCE, IF NECESSARY."

Though it was hard to tell in the din of low murmurs and still-echoing shouts, Logan thought he heard someone crying.

"REMAIN CALM."

Sheri crawled the length of the work space, and unlocked the storage room door.

"WE COME TO BRING A MESSAGE .. "

Like hell ..

The door snapped shut a little too hard as Logan crawled in after the others. He was scooting along crab-style, impeded by the strings on his apron every few feet. Fed up, he suddenly rushed to his feet and ripped it off. The hat went, too and he ran his fingers through his hair three times in quick succession.

Sheri had risen as well. She quietly picked her way past the stacks of supply boxes until she found the door leading out to the service stairs. Logan heard her jangling her keys. He also heard that high cold voice, muffled but echoing from the next room ..

Nikki and Dawn were close. Only one of them was breathing hard, he couldn't tell which. Logan felt his own heart thumping in his chest, and had to make a conscious effort to swallow.

"Hurry!" He breathed.

There was a slight rattle as Sheri tried to force the door. It did not slide open. She cursed softly, and tried to throw her weight against it. No luck.

"Hurry!"

Logan crossed the room in one bound, brushing past the girls as he did so. In his haste, he clipped a package of plastic snap-on lids, and they spilled to the ground. Just as Sheri opened her mouth to protest against the noise, Logan waved her aside and drew back his arm. For a second it looked as though he were going to strike the door -- savagely, too -- but all he did was pluck the keys from Sheri's grasp, and rifle them until he found the correct one.

"The blue one, Sheri. The blue one."

Light spilled into the room, a welcome shaft of freedom. The service stairs hugged the side of the mall with plenty of wide-paneled windows to let in sunshine. Logan kept the keys in his fist. He wasn't sure what to do with them. He turned slightly, and saw the girls behind him still standing in the relative darkness.

"My truck's in the west lot." Logan murmured, dismay causing his heart to skip a beat. "We're nowhere near there."

Sheri was shaking her head, looking pale. Logan didn't need to see the girls clearly to bet they had probably parked where everyone usually --

"My car's out front." Nikki spoke up in an unusually bright, clear voice. She stepped forward, and there was an odd moment where she looked almost cheerful. "Don't worry!"

That settled it. They took care to shut the door quietly this time, making their way as stealthily as possible down the narrow and bare staircase. It was bright, hot, and everything seemed to echo. Nikki's pink flip-flops kept snapping against her heel, against the tile. Sheri -- dressed more practically in worn walking shoes -- wanted nothing more than to strangle the girl.

It was a tedious and a breathless journey. When they were about halfway down, there was a resounding crack that seemed to shake the building. Logan stopped and almost slumped against the wall. What the hell was going on? He didn't want to know.

Finally, the stairs widened to the main landing. Here there was an annex to Wetzel's Pretzels, and the Abercrombie outlet, but things seemed more or less deserted. Logan looked up and once more felt his heart sink.

"It's alarmed." He blinked at the red EXIT letters, and the notice sign underneath them. "If we go out, we'll have to run and not stop. They'll hear it up there. They'll hear it everywhere. Nikki, are you ready to go?"

"We're not going anywhere." The voice seemed to suddenly change.

Logan turned and saw a flash of blue. Nicole suddenly had a tall and pointed wizards cap planted on her head. The rim was wide and the entire thing the brightest cyan. Her eyes glittered dangerously. Logan stared.

"And my name isn't Nikki."

Before them, before God and everyone Nicole Trawley -- (or the girl formerly known as Nicole Trawley) -- raised her hand and it was suddenly engulfed in flames.

"My name is Charmena Harrow, and I'm terribly sorry, Logan." She said sweetly.

She gave him a wink, and then turned her attention to Dawn. There were no words needed, no explanation to give. The feeding chain of Cedar Springs High School had suddenly and unexpectedly changed. The Wizard curled her fist, gave a high shriek and loosed the burst straight at Dawn's head.

Logan yelled when he saw the burst of fire. He yelled as he hit the wall and fell back, he yelled when he felt a flash of heat. There was a war-like shriek, a sharp crack, and then a dull thud. Logan was done yelling, now. He opened his eyes and saw Nikki Trawley -- sorry, Charmena Harrow -- sprawled there on the floor.

She twitched just a bit, and then was still. Then there was Dawn, rubbing her fist idly and observing her kill, not a single hair out of place.

"I always knew there was something off about that girl .. "

Damn. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Logan had to admit he was a little turned on by --

" .. I think now would be a good time to start running. Don't you?"

What a glorious understatement. Dawn slammed the door open, and Sheri yanked Logan by the elbow. He barely had time to pick his jaw up off the floor before they staggered out of Silversun Crossings to the strident sound of wailing sirens. They left Charmena collapsed there at the bottom of the stairs.

The next few minutes were pretty hectic. They pounded across the pavement towards the few front lots where the motorcycles were held. Logan was quick to take the lead. Four years of football conditioning and long-distance track pulled him ahead.

Logan skittered to a halt in front of Dawn's cycle. There it was, sleek and gleaming -- the desire of just about every guy at Cedar Springs High School. Logan had never, until now, realized how small it was.

Sheri and Dawn were about four seconds behind. Logan looked from one to the other, and before he could audibly observe that the three of them wouldn't fit -- Dawn shrieked something desperate, probably obscene -- and they were crammed onto the seat. The engine was thundering --

"Woah .. helmets .. " Logan kept his hands chastely at Dawn's sides. "Should we be wearing -- ohhh SHIT!"

The acceleration jerked them back and Logan felt another flash of heat. His stomach whirled and he felt himself sliding backwards -- the youth wrapped his arms around Dawn's waist and pressed his head into her back. Ohhh shit --

-- he heard Sheri sort of hollering, sort of praying in his ear. Her arms were around his waist, now, too. This marked the first time Logan had been pressed between two women, and not found it enjoyable. He grunted as they picked up speed, and tried to find room to breathe.

Dawn wound through the legs of the parking garage. Logan kept his head turned and watched the backsides of cars scroll past. Without warning, something very loud and very bright exploded into being. The cycle wavered, Logan hollered. For a wild second his first thought was dragons? but as the aftershock ripped through the garage, Logan thought he had a pretty good idea of what that noise had been.

Explosions. The cars. Were. EXPLODING.

The shouts and flashes faded. Hunks of metal clattered to the ground behind them. How large was this parking garage? Logan dared to open his eyes. They were still alive. Ohhh shit. They were still alive.

"Go, go, go!" He felt adrenaline surging. "We -- NO! WAIT! NOO! STOP! DON'T -- "

There was a truck, a ramp, and little men in blue hats waiting for them. Why weren't they slowing down?

Something carried them up the ramp and through the air. The now-familiar flashes of heat dotted the air all around them. Logan felt his stomach stay on the ground even as they met some crazy arc, some crazy landing --

Dawn's helmet scraped the ground as they slammed back onto the pavement. If the wizards were watching, they were too surprised to pursue any faster. They blazed away from Silversun Crossings, and none of them talked for a while.

Once they were about fifteen minutes away from the mall, Dawn pulled in to Wedgewood Park. It was nicely tucked into a copse of old, old, old oak trees. Most West Side kids used to hang out here at some point in their youth. Logan wasn't sure why Dawn chose this place for them to stop and collect themselves, but it sure looked deserted.

Dawn cut the engine, and Sheri practically rolled off the bike, retching. Logan delicately stepped out and onto the grass.

"That .. "

He took a few breaths.

".. was awesome!"

They couldn't stay here forever. There was a small playground with rounded, colored and very safe equipment about twenty paces away. Logan had a sudden urge to go sit on the swings, and just --

"Hey!" He pointed. There was a payphone by the edge of the woodchips, near two newspaper stations. Probably for the parents who stayed there to supervise their children. Logan tilted his head to the side. "Look! That's one of those .. those .. "

He couldn't think of the word. "You know! Like in Phone Booth with Kiefer Sutherland? You put .. money in it? And you .. "

"Payphone." Sheri wheezed. "Probably hasn't been used in ten years."

"Yeaaaah!" Logan snapped his fingers. "Those old things. We should call Jordan."

Under Sheri's tutelage, Logan picked his way across the playground and started to fiddle with the payphone. It looked lonely. Sheri dug around for some quarters, thinking rather wistfully of the days before wireless internet, cellular phones, mp3s, and wizarding takeovers.

"Put the money .. no. No, Logan. Put it -- "

Logan finally worked out the strange contraption. He put the black handle to his ear, and leaned against the dark red newspaper stand. Actually -- Wedgewood offered decent cover. They couldn't be seen from the street, here. In the future, that might come in handy.

Jordan picked up on the second ring.