Beth sighed as she sat in weary anticipation on the front stoop. Hearing a car approaching, she looked up warily, only to see a little black ’88 Volvo approaching. Not her ride. Actually, she had no idea who the driver was, and she knew most people in the neighborhood(naturally, as she’d lived in that same neighborhood for most of her 19 years). After the Volvo drove past, she put her head down again and watched the late autumn leaves tumble down the sidewalk in front of her. The leaves seemed to be dancing with gleeful abandon as they darted by, rejoicing in the winter-tinged air. Beth shivered. She didn’t share the sentiment. Pulling her orange coat closer around herself, she sighed once again. Where was Rich at? He had promised to pick her up at the crack of dawn, but as the early morning light spilled over the sleepy neighborhood sprawled out in front of her, Beth started to worry. She tended to do that a lot, particularly when things didn’t go according to plan. And in her life, things had a tendency to not go according to plan. Unfortunately. Beth rubbed her arms again. She was cold and irritated and still not quite awake. A squeal of tires skidding around the nearest corner shook Beth out of her brown study. In a flash, she hopped to her feet, grabbed her small knapsack and started walking towards the street. Rich’s lime green monstrosity jumped up next to her and she tugged on the door handle violently. Time to go save the world.