Authors Note: I play Friends of Mineral Town, Boy Version.

Chapter One: Arrival

"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest." – Mark Twain

The moment I had stepped off the ferry, I knew the town would be good for me.

It was small, insanely so, with maybe seven or eight houses in the town section, crowded in the middle of a plot of land.

The rest of the area was acres upon acres, miles upon miles of… nothing.

Nothing, Nada, Zip, zilch. Empty. Forestry.

Funnily enough, it reminded me of Max. The reminder led to memories of the old man, and again I began to wonder what had happened to him. Surely, if he had been able to, he would've written me. I mean, he was like the father that liked me, right?

I took a deep breath, and looked around. It was near five in the morning, so I didn't expect anyone to be here welcoming me.

I looked to my little puppy. She was curiously looking at her new surroundings, sniffing the air with a hint of anticipation. I grinned at her, and then started up the beach.

I stood there, looking around me, stunned into silence.

He's gone. Just… gone.

When nobody answered my third knock, I gave up. I contented myself with staring around his farm. It seemed … well, messy was an understatement. It looked like a tornado hit it!

Weeds were popping up, wherever branches and small boulders (on a farm, clearly unusual) didn't take up space. I tugged on a weed, and was surprised at how easily it gave way and snapped from the ground. I stood there, holding it, and pondered.

Maybe he was seeing family.

But he said in his letter a few months ago that he had no remaining family. His sister, June, passed away a while back.

Maybe he was out.

Again, I ruled it out. He had said his back had been acting up, and he had to rely on a man named Gotz to buy his seeds and animal food. He had barely enough energy to feed the chickens anymore.

Suddenly, I realized that there were no sounds. No clucking, no mooing, no busy, farm-animal sounds I remember from when I was eleven. I found it strange, that a man who was out and about to own a farm devoid of animals.

"Hey!"

Startled, I whipped around, hiding the weed behind my back, to face a little red top hat. Lowering my gaze a little, I was standing in front of a short man with an elaborate mustache, stretching across his upper lip. What little neck I could see was covered by a yellow bow tie, which was half covered by a red petticoat.

All in all, I assumed he was either an overly stylish man, or an overly pompous man. I had the feeling that it was the latter.

I also had a feeling that this was the "Mayor Thomas" Max had spoken of.

"The owner of this farm died a while back. You can't just come waltzing in here!"

His words sent a jolt through my limbs.

So my instinct was right. Max died.

Inside, I died a little with him.

In a hoarse voice, I whispered, "I knew him."

The man's beet red visage melted into a slightly mournful expression. "What? You knew him?"

All I could manage was a nod, my thoughts still spinning.

The man was pale now. "And… And you didn't know that he died…?"

I nodded again, slowly, as the mayor's featured into a mask of sincerity and sadness.

"He died about… Oh, six months ago, I reckon."

My eyes widened. His last letter had come four months ago. Before I could voice this, the mayor continued. "When I was cleaning out his place, I found his will."

I watched as he searched his pockets, his hand coming out with a crumpled and slightly yellowish piece of paper. He handed it to me, but my hands wouldn't work, still clutching at the weed I had pulled out behind my back. Max… was gone.

The mayor seemed to understand, putting the will back into his petticoat pocket. He said something that I didn't quite catch.

"So," he sighed, "until whoever that is shows up, I'm taking care of the farm. Along with getting the hydrant fixed…"

My ears perked up. "What did you say?"

"The fire hydrant. It shot water at poor young Ann a week ago. Nearly scared her to death, not to mention soaked her to the bone."

"No, not about the fire hydrant," I said quietly. "Who's going to show up?"

The mayor looked confused for a second, and then it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh! Uh…" He dug around in his pockets for a second, and extracted the yellowish tinged paper. "…Ah! This… Alexander Canning. So, until this guy shows up…"

My heart stopped. I had a place to stay…

"That's me." My mouth muttered.

"What's that, dear boy?"

"I'm Alexander Canning."

"You say that you're the boy old Max left the farm to?"

I smiled sadly and nodded.

"Thank the goddess! My name is Mayor Thomas, dear boy, and it is a pleasure to meet you!"

I shook hands with the mayor, smile still in place, thoughts elsewhere. Already, I was thinking what I would do with the farm. The field would take a couple of weeks to clear, some boulders would need removing… maybe a good hammer would do it, or perhaps a horse and pulley…? And I would need a good knife, or even a sickle, or maybe an axe, to get those weeds out of the way. Suddenly, I was itching to find out what tools Max had left, if he had left anything at all.

"Will you tell me how you met the old man…?"

With a start, I looked back towards Thomas. Adjusting my cap so it was firmly over my eyebrows, I grunted.

Alex, chided a voice in my head, what would Mom think of you, acting unfriendly to a man who has only shown you kindness? Suck it up, and tell him.

I smiled slightly, apologetically. "Well, we were vacationing from big bad Detroit, and Mom wanted to go somewhere grand, like a beach or something. On the way there, the car broke down, and we found ourselves here…"

"Aren't you glad you came on the trip, Zander?" Mom questioned, that smile lighting up her face.

My mother was beautiful. She had long brown hair, dark eyes and the world's most beautifying smile. I loved that smile, the smile that said, quite plainly, don't change, Zander. You are my world.

I almost wanted to say no, just to back up the fit I threw before we left, but the truth was that I was having fun. I had a lot of time with my folks, and back then they were so happy together.

"Yeah, I want to see the fireworks. Want to, Zander?" Dad had said, smiling.

But I wasn't listening, I was staring.

A girl with pigtails was grinning at me, like a wolf. Like someone wanting to play.

I had no interest in fireworks. I wanted to see this girl, this priceless, porcelain girl, who obviously wanted to talk to me.

So I left.

Somehow, I had wound up on Max's farm, scared and confused.

It was the number scrawled on my backpack that had saved me from a life of… happiness, I guess. I'm pretty sure that Max would have let me stay with him, and if I had known that those three days playing with chickens and talking to her would be a prelude to what would happen on the trip home, I would have stayed.

But in the end, I went back with my parents. And everything changed.

I'm not sure exactly how the truck hit our tiny car, but when it did, the effect was immediate.

I was flung out of the car's windshield as the truck plowed into us from behind. Dad's face smashed into the horn, and the continual beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep still haunts my dreams.

A metal sheet the truck was carrying decapitated mom immediately. She died instantly. Her life ended.

And my hell began. Dad became distant, and started drinking. Two years later, he beat me for the first time. Three more years until I was able to retaliate. And a long two weeks in Juvenile hall, while my father was in the hospital.

Sometimes I wish I had never came out.

If you think our fights weren't bad, check with the neighbors. Fists were often thrown, yells and curses were exchanged, and it ended when either I left or he passed out – either by my hand or his.

A couple months at my aunts, and things were better. Instead of getting bitter and resentful, I completed school, always writing Max, always listening to Mom's voice of reason.

But, of course, I didn't reveal this to the mayor. The story I told him was of the three days of bliss on the farm. Chasing chickens, riding cows and horses, playing games with her.

Pure bliss.

The mayor regarded me sadly. "So, when he stopped writing, you came to check on him?"

I nodded. "A week without a reply from Max was unusual. Three and I started to worry. After four months, I decided to check on him.

The mayor nodded, and smiled at me.

"So, it needs a lot of work." He said, spreading his arm around the small farm. "Do you think you're up for it?"

I looked at him, a slow smile spreading on my face.

"Oh, yeah. I'm up for it."

A/N: Reviews are very good things, so good in fact, that I'd like to see more of them.