It been inended... for this to happen. You know, the sex thing. I could have sworn I was in love with Ash -- wait, aren't I still in love with Ash? I don't know anymore. Knowing is overrated. What am I talking about... basically, this pregnancy thing was not supposed to happen. And it was really not supposed to happen with her. How did I do this to her? I've sunk myself into a trap to burrow myself out of. Emma Nelson. Emma Manning? No, no. Why am I so insane? Ash is going to die when she finds out. She comes back from England next week. And Emma. Manny's best friend. I feel like running away, but that would mean leaving Emma and... why is it that a week ago my feelings were so sure and now I feel like I owe it to certain people to love them? Or that I love all the wrong people? I have to go. I'm crawling out of my skin just thinking about this.

--Craig

One Month Prior:

Craig was sitting in the Nelson household, his head throbbing. It was a month after summer vacation has started, and the whole time, the only thing he'd been thinking about was Ashley. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson has decided to throw a surprise birthday party for Angela, and -- surprise, surprise -- Craig had to come.

"You've been doing nothing around this house for weeks. Look, Craig, I don't have to be nice. But I have things to be doing and you're just moping around like the world's ending."

Joey was one of those people who kept themselves busy when in pain. And Craig was one of those people who spouted bad songs when in pain.

So, here he was, his shape forever molded into the fading brown couch, while everyone was outside, chatting over cake and pie.

Craig was sitting, feeling sorry for himself, when he heard a crash in the kitchen. He leaned over to see what had caused such a noise, when he saw that it was Emma. And he didn't want to disturb her, with her acting so odd lately, but he felt his impulses coursing through him. It was almost enough to make him get up, but then, he noticed that she had been sobbing. Her face was red and splattered with water. He resettled on the couch, eyes wide, mouth closed. He watched her for the next minute before she vanished up the staircase.

"What -- Craig, what was that noise?"

Mr. Simpson has interrupted Craig's stupor, standing in the kitchen with his khaki shorts and flamboyant pink shirt.

"Oh, no! Snake's favorite appetizer plate... Craig, did you see who did this?"

Mr. Simpson then looked around.

"Craig, there's nobody here -- did you do this?"

Craig took one look at the stairs, and one look at Mr. Simpson, and gave a solitary nod.

Mr. Simpson's gaze never wavered as he stood there, hands placed authoritavly on his hips. "Well,

clean it up."

"Sorry, Mr. Simpson..." Craig uttered as he watched him step out the door once more.

Waiting another maddening moment, Craig stood, shifting from one foot to anothe. The time had an awkward sense to it. Like he could breathe in the obscurity. Why had Emma fled the scene? As though this was some sort of Hit and Run accident.

"Now I get why those guys get sued."

Craig walked past the refrigerator, looking for the broom, when a flash caught his eye. The refrigerator was completely plain. It wouldn't have caught his attention any other day. But today, it had a note sticking to it, written in electric green. A note Craig had this feeling that he shouldn't have been looking at, which is precisely why he did.

Emma's Appointment - Mrs. Soveign - 9 am, Tuesday.

What did Emma need to talk to Mrs. Soveign about? There couldn't possibly be anything perfect Emma could do, could there?

Craig stood, fingers barely gracing the note's ends, his face doused with curiosity. It was maddeningly hot.

"Craig!"

Joey's baritone voice somehow shattered the essence of the moment.

"It's time to go, c'mon, get your sister's gifts, get them in the car. Let's go."

Craig quickly swept up the mess and ran outside, gifts escaping from his arms left and right. Mrs. Nelson laughed as she picked up a present.

"Thanks for coming, Craig."

"Thanks, Mrs. Nelson. I'm sorry about the dish."

"No, it's fine."

"Hey, that note --"

Beep, beep. Joey's car had the most annoying horn.

"Come on, Craig, get in the car."

Craig rolled his eyes and stuffed the gifts in the backseat with an ecstatic Angela, looking back once more before blocking the whole topic out of his mind and taking a seat himself.

One month was thirty days. And thirty days was 920 hours. So, in all that time, all Ashley couldn't manage to send one postcard? Craig was a couch potatoe, doing nothing and everything that made him happy. Emma didn't see me, right? When I was cleaning up her mess? Oh, but Ashley! She was ignoring him, and as Craig lay there on that couch that afternoon, he couldn't help but give recognition to the fact that she probably wasn't thinking about him half as much as he was thinking about her.

Joey was going out of his way to make sure that Craig realized how useless he was being lately.

"The living room's a mess, there's cereal all over the stove -- You need to do something!"

Joey was driving himself into insanity. He had two feather pillows, both coming undone at the seems, clutched in his hands and at least four barbie dolls stuffed in his pocket. Craig looked over idly from the couch.

"But I'm not feeling too good, Joey... I can't."

Joey dropped the pillows and threw the barbie dolls in the sink.

"Craig, you've sat on that couch for the past month. I have to get to work! You clean this up."

"Who's going to watch Angie?" Craig asked, eyebrows raising.

"I'll call a babysitter -- what, is Emma doing anything these days?"

Craig shrugged his shoulders cluelessly as Joey whipped out his cell phone and left the house. You know, Craig thought, Ashley never said we were technically broken up, did she?

Joey barged through the door, boxes in each hand.

"Get up, Craig. Emma's on her way here and you look like a drowned rat."

Mrs. Nelson had heard the phone when she had been making breakfast. It's was about eleven a.m., but she knew it would cheer Emma up after seeing Mrs. Soveign. She was always upset after those meetings. They reminded her that she was guilty. So, when she answered and heard Joey on the other line, asking for babysitting help, she thought it would be exactly what Emma needed. To spend time with an adorable little girl and a sweet friend.

"Mom, who was that?" Emma asked glumly as she walked in through the front door with Mr. Simpson.

Mrs. Nelson licked her syrup-stained finger. "Hmmm? Oh, it was just Joey. He wanted to know if you could babysit for Craig."

Emma suddenly perked up. "What did you say?"

"Well, I think you should do it," Mr. Simpson chimed in, "It'd be nice to get out of the house for a while. And see Craig."

"See Craig, a boy. You're letting me alone in a house with a boy?"

Mr. Simpson and Mrs. Nelson laughed with each other, guffawing openly.

Mrs. Nelson stopped first. "It's Craig."

Emma was a girl. So it baffled Craig as to why she was allowed over. After all, since the Manny incident, Joey had a hard time letting anything with estrogen walk back the threshold. It was probably because Emma was Emma, and she was a family friend. A family friend. The word seemed funny on Emma. Like it didn't suit her. Craig finished buttoning his shirt just as the doorbell rang. He made it to the top of the staircase, standing there lamely, just in time to see Angela hopping to the door.

"Emma's here!"

She opened the door and gave Emma what seemed to be a very uncomfortable hug.

After Emma had given him the expected cold shoulder and brushed past him in the hall, she and Angela had setled themselves in her room. Craig was scrubbing away at the kitchen counter, determined to finish.

Where did Emma get off, anyway? Ignoring him after everything he did for her yesterday? Well, it wasn't that much, Craig told himself. But she distinctly avoided his eye. Thinking drove Craig into a frenzy. A cleaning frenzy. A rampage, if you will. He was finished in no time and off to his bed, where the magical graces of sleep would claim him.

Emma was sitting in Angela's room long after the little girl had fallen asleep. They had played with dolls for a few minutes and played all those games they had played before, and then she had fallen asleep. Sitting in the rocking chair, Emma could hear Craig slamming things downstairs. He had appeared rather disinterested when she arrived, and darker than she remembered. He was something she wished she could think about. The thing was... well, Craig was a call to a more innocent time, and just like her parents, there simply wasn't a way she could look that in the eye.

School would be starting soon, and there would be no identity Emma could hide under.