"Nobody likes me…everybody hates me…guess I'll go eat worms…fat ones, long ones, short ones, skinny ones, ones that squiggle and squirm…"

"I can't believe I'm listening to this," she mumbled, and buried her face deeper into the leather seat. Normally, she didn't mind long car trips with her family, but this one, at seventeen hours, was just too long for her. She probably wouldn't have minded so much if it were just her, Robert, and mom- but no, the stepfather had to come along. He now sang the worm song joyfully with her nine-year-old stepbrother, Robert, and soon afterwards, her mother joined in.

Whitney sighed. It wasn't easy spending seventeen hours in a row with the man who replaced your dad. Not that there was anything wrong with Chris- he just wasn't her father.

The sun bore down on them, the back of her thighs were sticky with sweat, and her hair, normally naturally frizzy, clung to her like a helmet. She would have listened to her latest tape, but no, that had run out hours ago.

This was going to be a long seventeen hours.

Her stepbrother, Robert, poked her in the shoulder playfully. He was unnaturally short for his age, and his hair was constantly falling into his eyes. "Sing with us, Whitney," he cooed, his small frame rocking back and forth in excitement.

"No thanks," she mumbled, and tried to force herself deeper into the seat. Robert continued jabbing her repeatedly.

"Come on, Whitney, please?"

Whitney shook her head vigorously. To her mortification, Chris joined in. "Whitney, you've sulked in the car for hours. Sing with us." When she shook her head stubbornly for a third time, he smiled kindly, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and said: "Come on, Whitney. It'll go faster if you do something a little fun."

She sighed. "Do I have to?"

Rob, Christopher, and her mother nodded vigorously.

Whitney sighed again. "Okay," she said reluctantly, and then smiled brilliantly. "Don't tell any of the kids around here, okay? I don't want people to think I'm a loser before they realise I am one!" Her lips quivered at the corners, in the same way that they always did when she was joking.

"Our lips are sealed," everyone agreed.

Whitney took a deep breath, and began to sing along.

"Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms…fat ones, long ones, short ones, skinny ones…ones that squiggle and squirm…"

XxX

As the sky began to darken, so did the energy levels of everyone in the car. Robert was snoring loudly in the backseat next to Whitney, his head drooping down low on his chest, his assortment of comic books forgotten on the floor. Chris was dozing in the passenger seat, and Andrea, Whitney's mother, was feeling the strain herself. Only she and Whitney were still semi-conscious, and Whitney was hardly old enough to take over for her mother.

But she didn't think that they were too far away from Santa Carla. Surely they'd be nearing the coastal town any minute now?

"Are we nearly there?" Whitney asked tiredly, fixing her mother with half-lidded eyes. It was as if she'd been reading her mother's mind.

Andrea stifled a yawn. "Oh, I hope so," she replied. "I'm afraid I can't stay awake for much longer."

Whitney gave her a tired grin. "Take it easy, mom. I can drive."

She laughed. "Sure, missy. And you can fill in the insurance forms when we crash."

Her daughter stuck out her tongue, and for the next few minutes, the car was filled with drained silence. This car trip had taken a lot out of them.

Rob would want to buy more comics, surely. Andrea was sure that he'd re-read all of his comics (yes, even the new ones!) at least five times during this trip. She'd have to ask around Santa Carla to see if there was a place where he could spend all his pocket money on some new ones. Whitney would want some new tapes. And Chris- well, he deserved something. Some red wine, maybe?

Andrea was just considering pulling over for a quick doze when their battered Dodge went over the crest of the hill, revealing a large, tackily-painted sign that boasted the words: Santa Carla- come visit the Boardwalk tonight!

As soon as she saw it, Andrea felt considerably better. They were here. She tugged at Chris's sleeve tentatively. "Chris, wake up."

He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes, appearing, for a moment, like a child. Andrea smiled at him indulgently. "Wassamatter, babe?" he asked, voice croaky with sleep.

"We're here."

"Really?" Whitney asked suddenly. She sighed with relief when she saw her mothers' nod. Delighted, she unpeeled her hair from her shoulders, and attempted to fluff it up. Now that something good had actually happened today, she decided that she didn't look so bad after all. Her hair was still a little damp, but that was nothing she couldn't fix.

Almost as if it were sensing her delight, the air conditioner kicked back into life, filling the car with its luscious cool breeze. Even Rob managed to break himself out of the trance he'd been in, and smiled impishly at his suddenly laughing, joyful family.

"I can't believe we're here," Whitney said, almost in wonder.

"Why?" Chris asked playfully. "Did you think we'd never get there?"

"Well, maybe," she said truthfully, suitably embarrassed.

Andrea pointed towards the highway. "Look, guys! There's the movers' truck!"

"So we didn't lose them after all," Chris huffed. "They could have waited for us."

"Well, at least we found them eventually," Andrea reasoned. She shook out her hair- like Whitney, she'd had trouble managing it on such a hot day.

As they drove deeper into the heart of Santa Carla, it became very evident that the Boardwalk was the main attraction- hundreds, possibly thousands, of people- young, old, rich, or poor- were lined along the streets, chatting animatedly to others, weaving back and forth to music, or screaming with delight on rides. Rob jumped up to the window, round face apoplectic with excitement. "Look, mommy- rides!"

"They do look good, don't they, Rob?" Chris chuckled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. Rob nodded vigorously, jumping up and down in excitement.

"Daddy, mommy, can we go?"

Andrea frowned. "I don't know, Rob; there's an awful lot of unpacking to do…"

"I'll take him," Whitney offered. "I have some tapes I'd like to buy anyway, so I might as well take him along to get some comics and a ride or two." She paused, brown eyes speculative. "Come on, please?"

Andrea sighed, and looked to Chris for support. "What do you think, Chris?"

Her husband shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Both Whitney and Rob erupted with hoots of delight. Rob resumed his bouncing.

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Hey! AFTER you've unpacked, okay?"

XxX

The Boardwalk was even more packed when one actually entered it; Whitney and Rob were almost swallowed by it. The Boardwalk was not merely a strip of pavement where assorted rides, stores and knickknacks were; it was a living thing, a gigantic mass, and unsurprisingly, Rob was scared to enter it.

"It didn't look this busy before," he whimpered. Whitney squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Come on, it ain't that scary." She pulled him deeper into the undulating mass. "You said you wanted a new comic book, right?" He nodded, and she grinned.

"Well, let's go ask around. Somebody's sure to know."

However, that was easier said than done. The Boardwalkers didn't want to stop for a seventeen-year-old and her stepbrother. They ran this way and that, and a couple of times, Whitney almost lost Rob entirely. After that one particular incident, they clung to each other with an iron grip.

Rob was right. The Boardwalk hadn't been this busy before. In fact, as the night progressed, the number of people on rides seemed to grow steadily. It would be very easy to get lost in a place like this.

More than once, Whitney and Rob found themselves pressed against the fence, so as to not get crushed by the oncoming mass of Boardwalkers. Moving ahead was a difficult task- finding a comic book store seemed damn near impossible at that point.

Eventually, though, Whitney could stand it no longer. She tapped a passing girl on the shoulder. "Hey, excuse me?"

The girl, miraculously, stopped to stare at them. She was wearing about fifteen pounds too much makeup, and was about thirty pounds overweight. Nevertheless, she had stopped for them, so petty things like appearances were pretty low on Whitney's list right now. "Yeah?"

Whitney flushed. "I- I was wondering if you could help us," she stammered. "You see, my brother and I are looking for a place where he can buy a comic book- you wouldn't happen to know any places around, would you?"

"Oh, sure," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "There's the Frog place, if you're looking for any old comic book. They're pretty creepy there, though."

"Thanks!" Whitney grinned. "Would you be willing to show us the way?"

The girl rolled her eyes again. "New to town, huh? Give yourselves a week here, and you'll know where everything is in Santa Carla."

XxX

The comic book store was part of a small plaza, and was small and cramped and smelled faintly of mildew. From what Whitney could see, there were very few people in the store. In fact, it was kind of creepy. She really couldn't say why. There was nothing ominous about the place- it was well-lit, with bright, neon signs, shelves upon shelves of comic books, and she could hear the familiar tune of "I Still Believe" in the distance.

Rob, however, clearly didn't feel the same way. "Can we go in?!" he shouted excitedly, bouncing up and down once again. "Please, Whitney, please?!"

"Sure," she said resignedly, and he tugged her into the store.

She had been wrong before- there was one person, aside from the two store attendants, inside. He appeared to be several years younger than her, with short brown hair and an eccentric style that made her grimace. He was poring over the Batman selection of comics.

She flushed, as this strange boy looked up from his comic, and glanced at her and her brother. Then he was buried into his comic again.

"Over here, Whitney!" Rob cried, and tugged her towards the horror section.

"Oh, Rob, not the horror comics," she groaned. "You know they give you nightmares."

He pretended to be offended. "They do not!"

"Can we help you two at all?"

Whitney and Rob jerked in surprise, as the owner of the deep, gravelly drawl moved away from the front counter, where he had been murmuring quietly with another boy- were they brothers?

He was dressed oddly, Whitney decided, perhaps even in weirder clothes than Batman boy. He wore army-style pants, and a black t-shirt. A red bandana was yanked around his forehead- was he supposed to be Rambo?

Nevertheless, Rob wanted his comic, and he clearly was too surprised at Bandana Boys' appearance, so Whitney would have to do the talking. She stepped forward, and smiled. "Yeah, actually! My brother here was looking for a horror comic."

"Horror comics, huh?" Bandana Boy asked, and nodded seriously. "A wise choice, sir. I'm Edgar, by the way."

"And I'm Alan," the other boy at the front counter added.

"I'm Whitney," she said, somewhat lamely, "And this is my brother, Rob."

As she said this, she noticed the video tape store across the 'street'. The biggest range of tapes in Santa Carla! The sign read. She bent down to her brother. "Hey, Rob, would it be okay if I went across the street, over there?" she pointed to the video store. "I won't be long, and you can get your comic, okay?"

Rob was delighted. "Sure!" he exclaimed.

She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Thanks, little buddy." As she walked out, she called back to him: "Nothing too scary, okay?"

XxX

The store was even bigger and more impressive on the inside than she'd first thought. There were stacks of tapes, and many, many shelves full of them. There was also a gumball machine near the front desk, and when Whitney entered the store, the small woman who was obviously manning the desk looked up, and smiled.

"Hi!" she called, sounding genuinely happy to see her.

She grinned back, and gave the woman a half-wave.

Then Whitney was immersed in the tapes, and all other thoughts vanished from her mind. There was just so much here!

A door opened to her left, and a rather bulky man carrying some boxes snagged her elbow. "Oh! Excuse me," he said apologetically, and continued on his way. She could see that the topmost box was threating to fall over.

"Hey, are you okay, mister?" Whitney was offering to help before she knew it. What on earth was she thinking?! She never usually offered to help anyone; not because she was snobby, but because she was usually too quiet to even try.

"This top one's about to…"

And she tugged it off the tower, so that it wouldn't fall. The woman at the front desk clapped her hands together and smiled delightedly. "Good save!"

"Thanks," Whitney muttered.

The man adjusted his lopsided glasses, and smiled embarrassedly at her. "Thanks very much for that," he said. "I really thought I could handle it…"

Suddenly, the low thrum of motorbikes sounded. The man frowned, as the sound was cut off, and was promptly followed by a curious jingling noise. Whitney hastily put the box down; she wasn't in the most glamorous of positions.

And four teenage boys entered the store.

The first had hair so bleached that it was even whiter than his pale, pale face; his whiteness was in stark contrast to the sea of black that whirled around him from the neck down. The second boy was dark, the painted leopard on his jacket glimmering slightly under the fluorescent lights; the third was tall and blonde, and he seemed to be constantly chewing something. The fourth boy, who was easily the smallest of the group, wore a jacket that appeared to be nothing more than patches sewn together, his baby face forming an impish grin.

The man with the glasses frowned, as did the woman. Whitney flushed, as the first boy's eyes slid over her, disinterested; the only other teen to ever look her way as they sailed past the man and woman at the front desk, openly flaunting how they clearly did not fit in, was the baby-faced one, whose dark eyes glittered with mirth.

Then they were busying themselves with the numerous tapes, and Whitney felt her heart sink. They were hanging around the tapes that she wanted! But she wasn't going to go anywhere near those boys- their flamboyance and obvious arrogance put her on edge. They looked like the kind of people that would rob little old ladies for fun.

"Uh, honey?"

Whitney jerked her gaze from the delinquents, who were hooting over something apparently hilarious. The small woman with her cropped, orange hair looked concerned. Her nametag read 'Lucy'. "Did you need help finding anything, dear?"

"We have the biggest stock of video tapes in all of Santa Carla," the man said hopefully, giving her a cheesy grin. She noted that his nametag read 'Max'.

Whitney opened her mouth to answer, and found her eyes unwillingly sliding over to the four boys, who had their backs turned, thankfully. "I…no thanks," she mumbled. "I'll come back later."

"Honey, are you sure?" Lucy asked, casting a worried glance at the boys. They were preoccupied, hassling some poor little boy by the pinball machine. As she watched, the leader ruffled the kid's hair teasingly, giving him his usual snarky grin.

Whitney straightened, and smiled. "Yes, thanks. Would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?"

"Sure!" Both Max and Lucy appeared thrilled at the thought.

As Whitney left the store, feeling somewhat unsettled, she didn't realise that the boys were watching her, the baby-faced one in particular.

XxX

As the lovely girl's heeled boot left the store, Lucy Emerson looked sideways at her husband. His expression was thoughtful. Instantly, Lucy was stricken with worry. She hadn't seen Max look this way, not since…

"I know you, Max," she whispered, eyes wide, "You surely can't be thinking…"

The white-haired male stared at Max, uncomprehending. The others were ignorant of this silent battle of wills.

To Lucy's horror, Max began to smile.