Okay so, this will be my first try for something multi-chapter, as well as something with more of an adventure oriented plot. There will still be plenty of Pricefield-y goodness. I hope this plays out well. I apologize in advance if it's terrible. Also... I'm no good at sticking to a schedule, so I won't even try. Hopefully the updates will come regularly enough, I apologize in advance if there's a big lull between updates, I will be trying my hardest. As always I hope you enjoy, and Please tell me how I'm doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Max ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life is bullshit. I was happy once, truly happy. I had a family, and a best friend, we lived in a decent place. I mean sure we weren't rich or anything, but we were doing fine. Arcadia bay was small, but it was beautiful. There was the bay itself, to spark the imaginations of little wannabe pirates. Forests to hide in, explore in, that were never too far from the safety of home.

My parents were great. My dad was a journalist, and a big man with an even bigger heart. My mom was a nurse, with a tendency to worry. Sure mom could be a bit smothering at times, or dad could treat me just a bit too much like I was younger than I really was, but I loved them. They treated me well, loved me, provided for me. I was happy they were my parents.

My best friend was amazing. She was always so strong, and brave. She was fierce and beautiful, and for some reason she liked hanging out with me. I guess she was kind of a nerd too actually, and so smart. She was one of those people, a force of nature, and she didn't even notice or care. More than even my parents, she was everything to me. She was also just simply my Chloe.

She was a year older than me (which she never held over my head), but we lived in the same neighborhood. We met before either of us started school, and connected almost instantly. Our Parents got along great as well, so there was no tension, no excuses not to get together. We were inseparable, or at least I thought we were.

Chloe's parents were like my own, a second set, a second family. Joyce was so sweet, mature, and beautiful. She had an amazing work ethic, she worked so hard. She made the best food, and you could talk to her about anything. William wasn't much like her, but they fit together so well. He was funny, flippant, and so warm. He was like a big kid. He was so much fun, even if he was a little ridiculous. Dad jokes for days.

Everything was wonderful, and I thought it would always be that way. I was wrong of course, and it all started when Dad got a better job in Seattle. I was understandably upset to be moving away from Chloe, my second family, and the home I knew for thirteen years. Pouting, screaming, begging, and crying did nothing to change fate. Chloe though visibly stricken acted supportive for me, always reminding me we could stay in touch, and that Seattle was only four or five hours away, we could still visit. My parents quickly jumped on that as well, but I was still quite upset to be losing what was to me, at that age, my entire life. As the move loomed closer though Chloe's calm facade broke down. So she helped me run away. Not that I went far, or was hard to find with Chloe helping sneak me food, and other things. That was probably my first ever act of real rebellion, and it wouldn't be my last.

My little stunt got me in a lot of trouble, but it didn't stop the move. Honestly I was probably way to old to be carrying on the way I did, but I didn't care at the time. Despite my antics, I did manage soak up a lot of time with Chloe. We were supervised of course, after my escape attempt, but it was still time together. The day we fucked off to Seattle came way too soon for me...I wish we'd never gone.

I was despondent when we arrived, and was determined to stay that way. I basically just got an early start on my sullen teenage years. Still, keeping in contact with Chloe helped. We would call, and text everyday. There were e-mails too, and letters. It was maybe a little excessive, but it helped us cope.

I was struggling to just keep my head above water, to catch up, to make friends, to basically just make a life for myself in a new city. I wasn't exactly a social butterfly anyway, my only friend in Arcadia Bay had been Chloe. I was pretty shy, and awkward back then. I didn't need anyone else anyway, I still had Chloe. Maybe I would have tried harder if I hadn't, but I'm really not sure about that.

My world was maybe not ideal anymore, but I was gaining stability. I had a fairly set routine. Wake up, and text Chloe. Go to school, and text Chloe between classes, call her at lunch. Call her when I get home, then do homework, texting her throughout the rest of the night. Check, and return e-mails before bed, fitting in the occasional letter where ever there was time. I was learning to be happy with my situation, so of course everything got fucked up.

It was a truly shit day when it happened. I had been pushed at school, and my phone had fallen down the stairs. It was pretty much destroyed. No Chloe all day. I missed my bus, because the school counselor wanted a 'quick' word with me, about fitting in and social circles or some other bullshit. I had walk to home in the rain, only to find, the lights off, and no cars in the driveway. Nobody else was home yet. That was weird, but didn't really set off any alarms until a police cruiser showed up as I was heading up to the door.

Memory is a funny thing, it's strange just what you remember, and what you don't sometimes. Like I can remember the sound of my busted phone hitting the ground, and skittering off somewhere, my keys jangling on their way down as well. The rain pattering on the pavement, in the grass. These sounds play over and over in my mind when I'm reminded of that night, but all I can hear of the officer's voice is a soft droning in the background. I don't remember anything he had said after accident. I don't remember what he looked like, or much of what happened as I basically just let anyone lead me around. I think someone put a blanket around me. I was in shock I guess. I do remember shivering like it was the middle of fucking winter.

My dad's parents have passed, and he was an only child. My mom's also an only child. Grandpa passed a long time ago, and grandma has Alzheimer's. Basically I have no next of kin, so I was allowed to grab a few things (My bear Captain, a leather jacket that belonged to my dad, my camera, and some pictures of both my parents, and Chloe.), and was shipped off to a group home. I was now officially part of the foster system.

The home was kind of like high school. There were cliques to watch out for, and adults who only pretended to give a shit, while trying to keep you in line. It was basically a lot of bullshit. I learned pretty quick to stand up for myself, to fight back. Things were tough, but it got a little easier when I fell in with the twins.

Kristen and Fernando didn't seem like the types to rule the schoolyard as it were, but they did. They were both heavy set, kinda nerdy even, but they had the hook up. Anything you wanted, one of them could get smuggled in for you. Booze, weed, pretty much any contraband was their specialty. They taught me all kinds of things. Fun stuff like what was good to drink, how to smoke(or toke), and useful skills, like how to pick or jimmy a lock, how to fight, how to cheat at cards, and several other small cons. They also helped me develop a good poker face. Being cool with them made me untouchable.

Of course the real trouble was not in the home, but with the foster families. You never knew just what you were in for, or for how long. There were people who were violently strict, people who just wanted the money the state gave them. You were generally on your own with them, for better or for worse. Things were often a lot worse if they have biological kids too. Older 'brothers' who got hands-y, or worse one of the adults. I honed my ability to fight there, started working out where I could too. I was building a reputation as a problem child, but really I was just surviving.

I ran away the first time at fourteen, and tried to head for Arcadia Bay. I didn't really get the realities of being out on the street, and I was returned to the group home pretty quickly. It didn't deter me forever though, I made another attempt at fifteen, and survived longer out on my own. This time I was caught breaking and entering though, and ended up doing some time in Juvie. I learned how to fight with a knife in there, and how to pick pockets, so it wasn't all bad.

The last time I ran away I was seventeen, and that was about survival really. I ended up in a foster home, that didn't seem too bad. The people were mostly cool, no fucks given about a lot of things. They had a girl about my age who was awesome, seemed like a sweet deal. And it was a sweet deal, you know, until her daddy caught us fucking in her room after lights out one night. He completely flipped his shit, got violent. I got beat pretty bad, but I'm pretty sure I broke his nose, and well the nut shot is what gave me enough time to grab my things, and hightail it out.

I lived on the streets for a while after that. I was more careful about my activities, I wasn't going back this time. I turned towards Arcadia Bay like I always do, and headed off. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. I needed to eat, and couldn't always scrounge, sometimes I need shelter, or even just a shower, and truck stops aren't guaranteed. I grifted, and stole when I could. Sometimes I carried, or even sold drugs. There were a few occasions when I had nothing to sell but myself. It wasn't a fucking picnic by any small means, but I was free, and I was moving.

The longer I was on my own, the more likely it seemed I'd finally leave that place behind. I was running down the clock till I was eighteen, and officially an adult. They couldn't drag me back anymore once I crossed that thresh hold. Soon I would be home free.

On my eighteenth birthday, to celebrate I went and bought some hair dye, and some awesome accessories, you know shiny, spiky things that go well with leather. I didn't need to blend in anymore. It was time to warn everyone to fuck off from a distance. I took myself to the bathroom then, and dyed my hair Lagoon Blue right there in the sink. It reminded me of watching Blade Runner with Chloe when I was younger. I also made a huge mess, but that wasn't really my problem. I looked fucking wicked!

I'm not sure why exactly, but I did keep moving towards Arcadia Bay. Maybe it was the memory of the second family I used to have there, nostalgia for the town, or the memory of my deep connection with Chloe. I hadn't talked to her in years, but I never really forgot her. In fact I probably romanticized what we had when we were younger. I made it into some magical perfect thing, from back when my life was perfect also. Still, I'm at least pretty sure I was crushing on her in the very least back then even if I didn't realize it.

I admit I spent plenty of time trying to imagine who Chloe was now, what she was into. I'd fantasize about our reunion, sometimes she'd be mad, but we'd get through it, sometimes she'd just accept me back like nothing happened. I'd imagine I had a family again, or sometimes that Chloe was into chicks too, and we'd run off together. Okay so I romanticized what we had a lot, but I didn't have much in my life, and I needed something. She probably wouldn't be into me anyway, probably wouldn't even be anything like the girl I remember, so it didn't matter what I was fantasizing about.

Arcadia Bay remained a beacon, I was continually drawn towards, like a moth to flame. I kept moving, doing what I needed to to keep myself funded, and moving. It took a couple months, but I was able to pool some of my ill gotten gains and buy a shitty used jeep. It was rusted to hell, and the soft top had a hole in it, but I could get some duct tape, and a vehicle would make my journey so much faster, and easier. I was on my way.

Traveling on wheels was much better than slowly working my way down on foot. In fact I was doing so well for myself that when I rolled into Portland I decided to stay a few days. I figured I'd hit the town, make some money, and refill my stash. I'd need a bit of medication for the road trip, and plenty more for the reunion party I was going to try to have with Chloe. I'd need plenty of booze for that too. I was sure it was going to be a blast when I got there, providing she would see me, or even still lived there. I wasn't going to dwell on the what ifs, I was just going to plan for the best, and if things went to shit, well I'd have plenty of party favors to console myself with.

I did some tourist shit while I was there, I figured I might as well. I left my mark on the Japanese garden, literally. Checked out the art museum, which I didn't contribute to. I'm not a complete barbarian after all. Mostly I just bummed around though, I wasn't too interested in sightseeing. Plenty of people around though, to help fund my ventures. Eventually I started making my way towards Old Town, somewhere I could score a little something.

First order of business was to find a cheap pay as you go phone, then I went to find a spot close to somewhere that sells booze. I parked the jeep, and enlisted the help of a bunch of the homeless people hanging around. I gave them enough money to buy whatever cheap drink they were into, and something for me. Then to make sure a larger portion of them return than not, I promise some extra cash on delivery. Once I'm stocked there I got back in my jeep, and head towards the slightly nicer areas. Dealers want people who can pay after all, and I didn't want anything that can be paid for by service alone. I didn't want to pay in service either, not that I'm sure they wouldn't take cash but... fuck that.

Finding a dealer isn't actually too hard, you just gotta know where to look, and what kind of people to be looking for. Once you find them, it's really not hard to learn to talk business. They Want to make sales obviously, so they'll coach you through it unless you seem too twitchy. Figuring out where to find them isn't too bad either. Just look for the party spots, and you'll find someone pushing eventually.

So I found a likely spot, and pulled the jeep into a parking space so I can have a little look around. I didn't want to go too far though, I've got a jeep full of liquor to watch out for. I spotted a guy who was probably holding, and headed his way. That was when shit officially got fucking nuts.

Some drunk ass side swipes a parked car nearby, and sets off the alarm, so I alter my course a little to keep solid objects between me and the road till they've passed by. Danger bravely avoided, I started making my way more directly towards the dude again, I want to get this over with quickly. Next Some drunk dick, and his equally trashed girlfriend nearly bashed into me. I thought about making an issue of it, but the chick decided that was a good time to start a sloppy ass make out session, so I decided to slip on past. I finally reached my destination, and start trying to make a little transaction, when the dude flips. He pulled a gun, and starts pushing me back further out of the open. I'm not about to let that happen, gun or no.

I pushed up into his space, and rammed my forehead into his nose. It hurt like a bitch, but he looked worse off than me. The fucker looked a bit shaken, maybe he didn't expect me to fight back. The momentary distraction was not quiet enough though, and he moved to swing the gun in between us again and take control of the situation. I grabbed his arm, and pushed trying to keep the gun pointed away from me, though this left my side open, which he took advantage of, punching me while trying to get the gun into play. This was going nowhere fast so I took pressure off his arm so I could turn into him again, and knee him in his fucking balls. The gun went off next to my head, as he fell back onto his ass. I stumbled back a little, stunned by the gunshot next to my ear. I don't recover in time to book it, and he got the gun unsteadily pointed at me. I don't really know what the fuck I thought I was going to do, but I lifted up my hand like it would shield me somehow. I guess it kinda did, because shit just started happening in reverse.

I found myself standing there, alone, the guy back where he had been standing when I approached him. My head hurt, my side hurt, my ears were ringing, and my nose had started bleeding a little. I couldn't really think, and I didn't even want to think about trying to take time to process. I just booked it out of there, and back to my jeep. The weed could fucking wait.

I sat in my jeep more than a little stunned, until I heard a car alarm start going off. I whipped my head around, which I immediately regretted, to get a better look. It looked like the drunk fucker had side swiped that car again. I looked around a bit more till I spot the couple stumbling along the sidewalk. They still made their impromptu make out stop. It was all happening like I remembered. It looked to me like I fucking rewound time.

I had to test it out. So, I tried just lifting my hand. Nothing happened of course, so I took a deep breath, and concentrated. I could feel kind of a tug in the back of my head for a moment, and then I was watching as the scene outside my vehicle played out backwards. I fucking did it again! So of course I played with it for a few minutes or so, reversing and letting go, at least until my head started to ache, and my nose started bleeding again. I did figure out I didn't actually need to do anything special, I just needed to concentrate. I also learned that it could really fucking hurt if I messed with it a bunch. I decided to lay off for a bit, but I'd still need to test more later. I needed to know if I could handle more as I practiced, like lifting weights or some shit.

I cruised around for a while after that. I needed to clear my head, and maybe pick out a new prospective source. It's not everyday you find out you have mutant powers after all. Medicating did sound really good, and I eventually did pick out a dealer. This one didn't try and shoot me either, so that was a bonus. It was a pretty good distraction, but it didn't really help me come to any conclusions about what the fuck just happened, or what I should do about it. I figured there was a lot of potential there for fun, and profit, but on the other hand... I could really fuck things up too, or even end up in some government lab or catching the attention of someone else who had abilities. If I had powers, I wondered who else might too. If life had taught me anything, it was that I needed to be careful when things seemed to be good.

I decided to cut my little break short, and get myself back on the road towards Arcadia Bay. I was feeling a little paranoid after the incident, and just wanted to get moving. It might have partially been the weed, but I don't Usually get paranoid, so I'm not sure. Being on the road helped though, there's a certain therapeutic quality to being in motion. I hoped the drive would be uneventful, and it really was nothing but smooth riding all the way to back to my hometown.

I considered heading directly for the Price's residence as soon as I blew into town, but decided it might be better to check out the lay of the land first. In other words I chickened the fuck out. I drove around town for a while, just gawking at things. They were surprisingly mostly the way I remembered them. I stopped at the beach, and took in the view, breathed in the salt air, it was nice. I walked up to the lighthouse to hang around for a bit. I found the stump of a tree Chloe, and I had carved our names into. I saw that our tree fort was still marked on the map posted up on the bluff. I was going into total nostalgia overload.

I sat myself on the bench, and looked out to sea letting my mind wander. I wondered whether this was a good idea, where I would stay while I was here. I wondered how much Chloe had changed, whether she'd want to see me after all this time. I wondered about Joyce, and William, and whether they'd be happy to see me, and how much they had changed as well. I doubted everyone would be the way I remembered, but I was hoping they weren't too different. All I had left of family was memories, and I hoped that maybe these particular memories would still mostly be reality.

I dragged my ass up off the bench eventually. I was getting stiff, and needed to move. I still wasn't quite ready to go and try to track down Chloe, so I kept exploring for a while, just wandering around on foot. My wandering eventually lead me into the junkyard.

That place was seriously rad. Lot's of rusted out cars just laying around, a couple boats, and even a school bus. Nothing there really seemed to be worth anything, at least not in cash money, but it was cool to look at, it had artistic value. I took a few shots here and there with the camera in my phone. Some things took a little posing, but... a lot of it was good just as it was. I spent a lot of my time just walking around, enjoying the view.

Exploring lead me to a little half built shed off towards one corner of the yard. It was bare, but it would probably do for shelter. It'd keep the weather out anyway, even if it would be cold as hell come winter. I'd had to make do with less before, so this really wasn't too bad. I began looking around for things I could carry back to furnish it with.

I outfitted my new little hideaway with a wire spool for a table, one of the bench seats from the bus, and a chair I found that was still sturdy enough to use. I spent some time arranging things to my satisfaction, before I turned my attention to decorating. I covered the walls in little phrases, and pictures. You know classics like: 'Max was here', or 'Get fucked'. I'm not even really sure why, but I drew a deer, and a butterfly. Then I drew some more standard fare, like a giant middle finger. I had to keep it classy if I was going to hang there after all.

It was getting late by the time I had finished, the sun was well into the process of setting, but still I procrastinated, finding things move or mess with. I was nervous, I wasn't sure if going to try and see Chloe was a good idea. I wanted to, I actually wanted to more than I was ready to admit to myself at the time, but still it was hard to get moving. Eventually I ended up just standing in my new space, looking desperately for something else to do just to put off my next step. Finally I just took a few deep breaths, and stomped off to my jeep so I could finally get going.

I drove a little slowly, taking a somewhat circuitous route just to procrastinate further. Eventually I pulled into park on the side of the road near the house. I tucked a bottle of cheap bourbon into my jacket, and stepped out onto the pavement. The house looked much the same as it had, though William had obviously long since finished painting the exterior. It was full dark now, but some of the lights were on inside, including the ones up in Chloe's room. I picked up a few little pebbles or shards of pavement, and positioned myself to be visible from her window. I took a deep breath, hoped the Prices still lived here, and began tossing pebbles up at Chloe's window.

As the little stones clinked softly against the window, I began to feel more, and more uncertain. I considered just turning around, and heading back to the jeep. No one would know I had been there, and I could still try another day. I looked around the empty street for a moment, when I heard the window being opened above me. It was too late to go back, so I just plastered a grin on my face, and tilted my head slowly upwards to see whose attention I had gotten. She had short hair now, but I'd recognize that face anywhere. It was her, it was Chloe.

- Chloe -

Life is bittersweet. My life hasn't been terrible by any means, there have been good things. I used to have a whole family, and a best friend. My home was decent, not too small, not too large, and well cared for. We were never wealthy, but we were comfortable enough. The town we lived in was lovely, full of it's own special charm. It had everything a little wannabe pirate could hope for. I was happy here.

My best friend Max, was amazing. She was shy, but so sweet, and artistic, and kind. She was outwardly timid, but a lot stronger than she thought. We did everything together, for a long time we were completely inseparable. No matter what I could always depend on Max to have my back. She was a complete nerd, and so was I. I could talk to her about anything, tell her anything, and she'd always listen, always understand. I loved it, loved her, so much.

She was a year younger than me, though she always seemed older despite her diminutive stature. We lived in the same neighborhood, and we met before either of us had started school. Our parents didn't exactly bond, but they got along, so we were free to play as much as we liked. Max spent more time at our place than I did at hers, and I feel like she was more apart of my family for it, than I was part of hers. It didn't matter though, because no matter what we had each other.

My parents were caring, and supportive. They were very good parents. My mother is a sweet, and worldly, no nonsense kind of woman. My dad was, also very sweet, but he was more the whimsical type, always making jokes, or doing silly voices. He loved to laugh, and make others laugh with him. They were so in love, and they were a very good role model for a healthy, loving relationship.

There were bad things too, very few people get to live charmed lives after all. Max moved away when I was fourteen. We kept in touch, constantly for a while. There were phone calls, and texts, and e-mails. We even sent letters, as silly as it was, but it was so hard to be apart from each other. That part wasn't too bad, it was when she simply stopped responding that it got bad. I don't know what happened, but she simply seemed to have disappeared. For a long time I went back over everything I sent to her, trying to figure out if it was something I said.

We helped even each other out. She was the voice of reason when I got a little too wild, I pulled her out of her shell. It was a really good partnership. Losing her, and not knowing why really did an number on my self confidence. I started pulling into myself. I didn't try and make new friends, and if it wasn't for my dad, I may have pulled completely into myself. It wasn't all bad, it ended up giving me more time to spend studying and on my drawing, and while I never really had trouble with my grades, I was able to move into the advanced placement courses with ease.

My dad was my best friend after Max. He was always there for me, always supportive. He bought me a car on my sixteenth birthday. It wasn't much but I loved it. I was very excited, and loved to use any excuse just to drive it. That was where things got weird though.

I had been driving one day, when some asshole in an SUV ran a red light. It was too late for me to do anything he was barreling towards me, I was screwed. Except, I wasn't. I had my eyes squeezed shut, braced for the impact I knew was coming, when I felt a weird tugging in my chest. Next thing I knew I had fallen to the ground. I opened my eyes confused, and looked around only to find I had somehow ended up in the tree house Max and I used to play in. I was miles away from where I had been. Somehow I had been transported from my car to the tree house, and weirder still I swore I could feel a connection back to where I had just been. When I really examined that feeling It was more like a connection to Everywhere. I don't know why exactly, but I began trying to follow that connection back to my car. As I concentrated I felt that weird pull again, and found myself back in the driver's seat, or as much into it as I could be with the side of my car partially caved in.

Later when the police and paramedics arrived, everyone thought it was some kind of miracle that I had escaped unharmed. I'm not the religious type, but maybe it was. Whether this power was an act of god, or just some dormant ability, it seemed to have manifested at a really opportune time. I was found to be uninjured, safe and sound, so I was allowed to call my dad to take me home after I gave my statement at the scene.

My parents went into protective overdrive for a little while after that. Not that I didn't understand, and I was glad to be alive, but they were rather overbearing. I was spending a lot of time shut up in my room just to escape them. All of that time I had up in my room alone, gave me plenty of opportunities to examine the new awareness I had discovered. The things I was able to discern from my testing were interesting.

The first thing I learned was that I could always tell exactly where I was in relation to any point of reference I was aware of. I knew exactly down to the millimeter where I was in relation to the Two Whales, the lighthouse, Blackwell, or where ever. The second thing I learned was that I could move myself to any point I had been to before. If I hadn't been there I couldn't just blind jump. I had considered getting to Seattle that way, and finally finding out what happened to Max, but that was impossible, I had never been there before. If I was less well behaved this would have been excellent for sneaking out of the house. The third thing I learned was that traveling like that a lot left my head feeling like it was going to split open, and could cause my nose to start bleeding. I didn't know if that could indicate the possibility of any kind of permanent damage, but I'd have to be careful anyway.

That summer the family took a trip to Paris, like dad had always talked about doing. It was amazing. The sights, the culture, it was all so wonderful. I also figured out, that if I was willing to have a nosebleed for it, I could go between there and home at anytime. We even discussed the possibility of me going to college there, or really anywhere abroad. I had the grades for it, and I'd spent so much time with just my family after Max, that I began to think maybe college would be a good time to really spread my wings. It never happened, life got in the way.

It was about a year later, when my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors said it was fairly advanced, that it didn't look good. It wasn't fair, my dad didn't deserve this. He was a good man, the best father anyone could ask for. He chose not to fight it, and instead focused on our time as a family. What time we had left he wanted to fill with as many good memories as he could. I left school for a little while, and mom took reduced hours at work, so we could all be together. Things were going to get tight for a little while, but we'd have each other as much as possible, for as long as possible.

We couldn't do all the things we ever dreamed of as a family, finances were a concern, but we spent time together. We would do simple things, like go to the beach, or walk in the woods, or even just stay home, and marathon some movies we loved. Sometimes I could almost forget this was basically one long goodbye party. It was so hard to accept, but dad was there to help when I just couldn't pretend, couldn't forget. He'd hold me and mom, and tell us he wouldn't change anything. The only thing he regretted was not having more time. He'd make arrangements for what would come after with a smile. He was amazing, and I still miss him so much.

Those days were both wonderful, and terrible. We had such a good time as a family together, but the reason was always at the back of our minds. We had good year or so, but the inevitable came no matter how much we wished it would not. It was hard on us, me and mom, but it helped that we had all that time with dad. He really helped ease us into what was going to happen. We weren't ready of course, how could you ever be? But it wasn't as devastating as it could have been. It still hurt so much though.

I didn't go back to school right away, I was pulling more into myself again, and it was hard to just get out and do things. When I felt ready again, I decided to go ahead and apply to Blackwell. My grades were good even with time off, and I had a portfolio of my artwork already. I got a scholarship for their senior arts program. It was in town, so I could live at home, though mom thought it might be good for me to live in the dorms away from the memories. I refused, I wanted to stay home. I wanted to be wrapped in those bittersweet memories of my dad, and of Max.

School was fine. I didn't really talk to anyone, just kept to myself. There was a surprising amount juvenile bullshit going on, despite the fact that we were all seniors there. There was the usual drama, so-and-so stole such-and-such's boyfriend, or somebody was making out with somebody else. There was bullying and rumors, and other things I just felt so above at that point. There were people there who tried to pull me into all of it, of course, but I just ignored it as much as I could. This discouraged some, but just seemed to antagonize others. It didn't matter, I wasn't there to make friends, I was there to make the memory of my dad proud. I kept my head down, and kept on working.

Living at home had some definite advantages, no annoying dorm mates to bother me in hallways, or while I was studying. I had access to the kitchen anytime I was hungry, and well I had all my good memories. I really felt like living at home was good for me. I was focused, and mostly comfortable. Things weren't the best, but they weren't bad, and I was learning to cope.

Life settled into a routine, as it tends to do. My days would start off with breakfast with mom, and then she'd give me a ride to school. I'd have my classes, ignore just about everyone, and then either take the bus into town to visit mom at the Two Whales, or find somewhere private and just make use of my special skill to go to the tree house. I'd go there most days to clean up, and just generally take care of the place, it may be stupid, but it makes me feel closer to Max. Then I'd just walk home, enjoying my peace, and solitude.

My nights were usually quiet affairs. If mom worked the evening shift I'd make, or re-heat dinner for myself. If she was home, we'd cook together, and then sit down to share our handy-work. Then I'd usually shut myself in my room to do homework, or study. I'd often break up my time drawing just for my own entertainment, though sometimes if I'd done a lot of drawing over the course of the day already, I'd put in a movie instead. Sometimes the quiet nights would leave me feeling lonely, I'd wonder if I should be more open, maybe try and make some new friends. Sometimes all I'd do would be to lay around wondering what happened to Max, imagining what would happen if I were to see her again. I'd wonder how it'd happen, whether we'd be much older, and have families, or if it'd maybe be in college. We'd happen to go to the same place, and bump into each other at the dorms, or on the quad, or where ever it is people run into each other. Would we be friends again? Would we even acknowledge each other? Would I be mad, or would she? Would we fight? Maybe I'd finally get to find out just what happened, and why she stopped talking to me. I figured I'd probably never actually find out. I'd probably just never see her again, but it never stopped me from wondering.

I had finished with my homework one night, and was just relaxing. I had some music playing softly in the background. It was just some acoustic piece I wasn't really paying enough attention to, to be able to identify. I was drawing, not really for practice, just because I wanted to. It was nothing spectacular, but I was doing a scene at the lighthouse, something I've done many times before. There were two kids playing at the base of it, a man watching over them. If I were being honest with myself then, I'd probably have said that was Max, and I with my dad; but I wasn't, so I didn't. I was pretty much lost in my own little world, when a series of soft clinking sounds pulled me from my reverie.

I made a quick survey of my room, before I figured out the sound was coming from my window. I couldn't see a cause for the noise directly outside, so I climbed up onto my desk to open the window so I could stick my head out. There was a girl down there. She looked tiny in her over-sized leather jacket, and she had bright blue hair. She didn't look like anyone I had seen from around here, not that I socialized at all, but still Arcadia Bay wasn't a big place. I considered just slipping back inside and ignoring her till she looked up at me. I'd know those enormous blue eyes anywhere. It was her, the girl below my window was Max.