Ryan looks down at the piece of paper briefly before tearing it off the pad and throwing it in the bin.

He bangs the tip off his pen against the desk in frustration before taking another crack at the seemingly simple assignment.

'My mother is an alcoholic.' He prints in his overly neat cursive script before tearing the page off and tearing it into tiny little pieces which scatter all over his desk, he doesn't try to gather them up.

With increasing annoyance he presses pen to paper, the ink spreading out in a pretty irregular shape from the felt tip. He silently curses his English teacher for giving him the stupid assignment in the first place; this is 11th grade AP not 2nd.

It should be simple, all he had to do was start, write 500 words about your mother, that is all he has to do, he still has 13 hours to do it, it's not that difficult.

He tears off five sheets of paper that heave been damaged by the ink and throws them dejectedly into the trash.

'My mother has blonde hair and blue eyes.' He wrote on the next fresh piece of paper before flipping it over to the back of the pad, no longer bothering with the trash can, rolling his eyes, 'most second graders can write better than that,' he thinks to himself.

'My mother let her boyfriends beat the shit out of me.' He writes on one last page before giving up.

It is only now he realizes how tired he feels, his head is beginning to ache, all he wants to do is sleep; he decides that a glass of water might help. He gets up and walks across the patio into the kitchen.

"Are you alright sweetie?" Kirsten's voice startles him.

"I'm... yeah." He stumbles.

"You look a little pale." She says quietly, falteringly.

"I'm just tired." He says quickly, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.

Kirsten, without hesitation, her motherly instincts taking over reaches out to feel his forehead, "You feel warm, let me get the thermometer." She says visibly concerned.

"It's nothing." He tries to protest, but his voice fails him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Five minutes later Kirsten removes the thermometer from his ear, "101.2" she reads off the display frowning slightly.

"All I need is some sleep." He says in reply attempting to get up, Kirsten's hands against his shoulders are preventing him from moving.

"You sleep in the spare room next to our bedroom tonight." Kirsten says, something in her tone sounds off to Ryan but he can't quite figure out what.

"Kirsten, I'm 16, I can take care of myself, I've been doing it for years." He mutters thinking back to his assignment.

Kirsten nods letting him up.

"Good night." Ryan mumbles as he leaves the room.

"Night." Kirsten replies.

0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0

The following morning Ryan wakes up cheeks blazing, head pounding, the first thing he sees is mass of blonde hair, he thinks for a second that he is hallucinating before Kirsten's sleeping figure on the couch next to his bed finally comes into focus.

He moans slightly as he tries to sit up, He can dizzily see Kirsten's figure leaping off of the couch, moving towards him.

"You didn't have to sleep in here last night." He croaks as she sticks the thermometer into his aching ear.

"Still 104." She frowns, he voice has taken on a panicked edge, she grabs a wifebeater and a pair of sweats from his drawer and hands them to him.

"Don't want to get dressed." He moans.

"We have to go to the doctors office." She states simply.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"It's probably just a nasty case of the flu but we need to get some blood samples." Dr. Norris says as he finishes examining him.

He pales.

"Ryan." Kirsten looks stricken.

"I'm fine." He whispers before sheepishly admitting, "I hate needles.'

Kirsten says nothing, simply taking his hand in hers, stroking his the back of it.

He barely notices the needle going in.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Dr. Norris was right it was only the flu.

A week later he feels well enough to go back to school, he hands in his English assignment, it begins 'My mother's name is Kirsten Cohen.'