Ian glanced behind him. Bipolar was hopping after him.

He cursed in frustration. Why couldn’t Bipolar just leave him alone? He wanted to be himself for at least one day, but Bipolar was being relentless. Ian hurried though the crowd of students, hoping to lose his monster in the crowd of students. But he knew Bipolar wouldn’t be so easily deterred. Like a monkey, Bipolar’s tail swung around and wrapped around Ian’s foot and sent him sprawling on the floor.

Face heating with embarrassment, Ian picked himself off the floor and looked around, heart pumping with adrenaline. Some kids had stopped and stared at him, but none had stopped to ask if he was okay or stopped to help him up.

Ian turned around and glowered at Bipolar, who had turned her usually orange and blue body completely blue.

At least the other guy was happy, Ian thought drily. He had learned by now that Bipolar had two personalities that affected him. One turned blue and stimulated emotions of utter helplessness, depression and sadness. The other turned orange and made him maniacal. The orange guy gave him the sudden urge to cram his head with knowledge about anything, and Ian always created theories and hung papers to the ceiling with string. He was more talkative and energetic, and he couldn’t be distracted from his ideas. Then when the orange guy left, he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Bipolar held out her hand to Ian, and he took it reluctantly. He really didn’t care if other people were staring at him. All they could see was him holding hands with air, he had known that for a long time.

“Come on,” Ian grumbled, picking up his books off the ground. “We need to get to class.” Bipolar’s tail swished back and forth anxiously, but she did not move as Ian tugged her along. He looked back at her curiously.

“Dude, we need to get to class. Come on.” Ian moved forward, pulling his hand from Bipolar’s. She squeaked in protest and latched back onto his hand... as if it was the only thing keeping her on earth.

Ian watched, intrigued as Bipolar shifted from blue to orange, then back to blue again. Her tail dropped to the floor and her fur on top of her head drooped in a defeated manner.

Suddenly, Ian was overcome with a feeling of pure agony shattering his skull. He cried out, dropping to his knees and clutching his head. Bipolar appeared in the corner of his vision. Was that concern he saw in her expression?

Bipolar stuck her hand out for Ian to grasp. He looked up at his monster in a daze of pain. All he wanted was to fall asleep and never get back up again.

Then abruptly, the pain was replaced by a burst of energy and a sudden urge to study the feeling that had overcome him, to relate it to anything that had ever happened to him. If Bipolar had caused it or not.

Ian looked up in amazement. Bipolar was completely orange. Her hand was still extended, warm and welcoming.

He took it firmly, and she helped Ian up off the floor. Bipolar tittered, and tugged him away from the classroom Ian was supposed to be going to.

“Dude, what are you doing?” he asked Bipolar, resisting the urge to struggle against her vise-like grip. “I gotta get to class.” He hated learning about the history of his own state, but he didn’t want to get in trouble. But the emotion of curiosity was unquenchable. Bipolar never acted like this. She never took the lead of tried to be brave. She always held Ian’s hand and hid behind his back when someone was talking to him, although nobody could see her except himself.

What did she want to show him? Where was she taking him? Common sense said to just ditch her and get to class, but the maniacal side of him was so curious he couldn’t help himself. The maniacal side won, and he followed Bipolar, down so many hallways that Ian didn’t even know existed.

“Where are we going?” Ian whispered to Bipolar, walking alongside her. He was by no means considered tall, so he could easily disguise the fact that he was holding hands with a monster nobody else could see by making his hand swing. Bipolar, when standing up straight, came up to his hip. But the fur on top of her head gave her the impression that she was a lot taller than she really was.

Suddenly, as if on cue, words flashed in front of his eyes like bright orange fire. “Come with me. Were are running a bit behind schedule. Follow, follow.”

The words disappeared as quickly as they came, as if they were an illusion and he had just imagined it.

“Was...” Ian began, staring at Bipolar in awe. “Was that you? Is that your way of communicating with me?”

Bipolar merely tittered and shook out her tail. She quickened her pace, and that stopped the flow of questions Ian was dying to ask.

Where he was going, he had no clue. He hoped his situation would give him more answers than questions.

Ian and Bipolar weaved through the crowd of students, occasionally muttering apologies as he brushed shoulders with other people.

His monster’s grip never slackened, never relented, never loosened one bit.