Author's Notes: Um, this is only the second fanfiction I've ever worked on, and the first one I'm doing by myself. I don't have much of a plot yet, but I hope it becomes a popular Stolovan fic on here, since I see that there aren't many. Please, PLEASE review! I think there might be a few typos in here, too. But please: read and review!

CHAPTER 1

This school year really hasn't been working for me so far. I just turned seventeen last month, and well, you'd think that be great and exciting, but for me, it really wasn't. All the fun years are starting to pass. I can't just lounge around and play video games anymore; pre-SATs and college-course tests are creeping up my back. There's no more cruising around town and stopping for a bite to eat; if I'm driving my car anywhere, it's to school, the library, or a friend's house to study. It's messing up my whole life schedule. That includes sleep.

I rolled over and pulled my blanket tightly over my shoulders and waited in the darkness of my cold room as I heard my mom's soft steps padding up the stairs and into my room. I saw soft yellow light flood into my room as my mom peered into my room, making sure I was fast asleep in bed. There was a good five seconds of this before the light began to diminish and she left, leaving me in my room.

I shut my eyes and let out a quick, exasperated breath. Quickly but silently, I tossed my blanket off of me and rolled off my bed, and tip-toed over to my computer. I wiggled the mouse and the monitor lit up, stinging my already tired eyes. I sat down in my chair and scooted closer to the screen, using my free hand to slap the tiredness out of my face.

Eight paragraphs to go. That's all you have to do. My eyes darted to the bottom corner of my screen, where the clock read 11:47. I was tired as hell. But this essay needed to be finished by tomorrow . . .either that, or take a big fat F for the quarter. Nuh-uh; I don't think so.

I opened up Word and searched for my document. I can't believe how tired school can make you. I miss those days when staying up until midnight couldn't faze you, even without soda and pixy stix. When you'd stay up all night playing video games or watching movies, or doing crap on the computer. That's the thing I probably miss the most right now. Not that I had much to begin with, but, you know.

Fucking english report shit. Oh yeah. That's what I named it. I opened it up and almost got an instant headache from just glancing at all the words I had typed over the past week and a half. The word count read 4,785. Jesus Christ.

I leaned my head forward and pressed my fingertips into my temples for a second before I began to finish up my report. At first I was self-conscious about the loud pok-pok-poking that my fingers were making on the keyboard, and then realized that it was probably too soft of a sound for anyone outside my room to hear. I sighed and shook my head.

In mid-sentence, a small white bubble appeared at the bottom of my screen with a little chime. It was Clyde sending me a message on Skype. I ignored it at first and continued to type, but that bubble was simply followed by another and another and another, until there were continuous bubbles popping up in the corner of my screen. I bit down on my tongue fiercely to prevent me from making noises of frustration.

Before I even read the messages he sent me, I typed furiously into the chat box: WHAAAATTT?

There was a split-second's wait until his reply appeared.

Hey r u still up?

I couldn't help it. I groaned out loud and shoved my fingers into my hair, resting my forehead in my palm. I looked up at the screen with weary eyes and typed in my response with one finger.

No, I'm sleeping.

Bi-ding!

Oh. Sorry bro. Sweet dreams!

I sighed. I should just tell him what an idiot he is. Save it, I thought to myself. You're just cranky and he's getting onto your nerves easily. I opened up a new sticky note instead and typed tell Clyde what a fucking idiot he is. I minimized it and went back to typing.

So, literature and the study of language are important to each individual subject. Right. Pok-pok-pok, got it down. But how does it affect us, individually? If none of us had the right knowledge, in the sense of—

Bi-ding!

God damn. There goes my train of thought.

Oh, thats so not cool i see what u did there.

No shit, Sherlock. I grumbled as I impatiently typed a response.

Yeah ok whatever. What do you want?

Bi-ding! Man, I should really turn that off. I reached for the buttons on the side of my monitor and did just that.

I need help with the math homework.

We're in different math classes!

But i cant do it!

Then figure it out!

There was no immediate response. I smirked smugly as I minimized the chat room and went back to typing. I was about to start tapping away on the keys when that goddam bubble popped up at the bottom of my screen. I considered ignoring it, but then remembered what happened when I first tried doing that. The dreaded chat room filled my screen. At this rate, I was never going to finish my report.

Keviiiiiiin please!

I shut my eyes. I could just see him sitting at his laptop, pouting after he attempted the problem once more. And of course he'd resort to me. Is that what you get for being Asian?

Fine. What's the problem.

I couldn't believe my eyes. We were in the eleventh grade, and he was having trouble with a geometry problem. And an easy one at that. It didn't even involve numbers, really; it was just conjectures and inductive reasoning.

Clyde. The answer is 632 eggs. The argument is not valid, and it is deductive reasoning. I don't think you're going to make it through high school.

He didn't seem to take notice of the cruel remark in my reply.

Ok thanks kevin i knew i could count on you. Im going to bed now tho

Alright. Bye.

I closed my Skype window. I swear to god, if that little bubble pops up again tonight, I'm going to ram my fist through my computer. And that's tough for me to say. I really love my computer.

Seven and a half paragraphs. My computer told me it was nearing midnight. I dug my nails into my scalp, glaring at my essay. The contrast of the tiny black letters on the bright white background was making my eyes even more tired than I could stand.

I blew a lock of black hair out of my eyes in frustration. I straightened my back in my chair and rolled my knuckles. I shut my eyes for a quick second, and then opened them in a flash. Only seven and a half paragraphs. I had all night if I needed it.


My alarm clock buzzed in an annoying manner in my ears as I woke up. I rolled over and found the red numbers glaring right back at me, with the same amount of zeal I probably had. I slammed my fist down on the snooze button. Fuck six-thirty; I'll be bad and wake up at six-thirty-five.

I leaned against the tiled wall in my shower, still half asleep. I had finally crawled into bed at a miserable 1:23. Writing seven and a half paragraphs on some shit you don't even care about when you're tired as fuck can take longer than you'd think. I doubted that the portion I had written even sounded legit.

I cupped my hands and filled them with the hot water that poured down like heavenly rain. I splashed over my face, in a shrewd attempt to get a grip and wake myself up. I don't think it worked. I stumbled out of the shower ten minutes later than I usually do.

I was never a morning person. I still skip breakfast on most days, despite what my mom says about full nutrition for the day. As long as I can survive another day of school, I don't need any goddam nutrition. Still, I skimmed the cupboard for anything that looked appealing, and then shut it with a sigh. Yeah, cereal isn't really my thing. Oatmeal takes too long, and I don't know how to cook anything. I leaned against the counter and found myself doing something I don't really remember doing before. The sun was about ready to pop up over the edge of the sky, and I found myself enthralled by the wide spectrum of colors.

The sky was still a bright crisp blue, and thin, wispy white clouds laced through it like ribbon. Right above the horizon is where reds and pinks and yellows and oranges shot through the sky in bright beams. The light filtered through the trees, reflecting off of the snow and ice, and eventually found its way into the kitchen and onto my shirt. Every now and then a pair of crows flitted through the sky, creating a strange effect that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It made time seem to slow, and I got a warm feeling in my chest. Maybe I was thinking of the holiday season coming up. Maybe I was just peaceful.

I glanced at the clock on the face of the microwave. I could rush to get ready in ten minutes and walk to school, or I could spend some time in the sunroom, watching the sunrise and feeling this deep peacefulness that I was really starting to like, and drive myself to school.

I looked back at the color-filled sky. I tapped my fingers on the edge of the counter, trying to make up my mind. I blinked a couple times in the bright morning light, and then dashed upstairs to get ready.

In my room, I stapled the three pages—front and back—of my completed report, still warm from the printer, and placed them safely in my binder. I'd better get an A on that. I tucked my binder away in my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, and then jogged downstairs and started putting my shoes on.

My mom noticed me with my car keys in hand, and then glanced at the nearest clock. She looked at me, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

"Why are you leaving so early?" she asked.

"I need to drive slowly, 'cause of the ice, y'know?" I told her, not once glancing up to look at her. I tugged at my shoelaces. I had seen that question coming. "And I have to pick up a friend."

My mom nodded. "Alright; drive safe." As I stood up, she gave me a hug, and then I was out the door. My mom was pretty oblivious to my lies; I guess she thought I was such a good child that I would never do it. She'd be surprised to see how many times she'd been wrong. I think she's kind of oblivious to a lot of things concerning me. Don't take that the wrong way: she loves me and all, but sometimes I think her image of me is blocked by something that isn't clear, but you can still kind of see through it. Opaque, there we go. Me as a young child, maybe. I think she refuses to let that image go, so that's what she sees me as. A young child. It gets really annoying sometimes.

I slid into my car and turned the keys, and immediately turned on the heated seating. My car was nothing special, just my dad's old Buick. I really liked the light-up dash and leather seats, though. I planted my own Stormtrooper bobble-head up on the dash, and a small Lego Darth Vader dangled from the rearview mirror. There was a half-full metal Star Wars thermos in the cup holder, and a folded up fleece blanket in the trunk to match. Don't judge me.

I rolled out of the driveway and prayed that my mom wasn't watching me from the house. I don't know why she would be, but you never know. Y'know? Instead of taking a left, towards the school, I turned to the right. Away from the houses, off to Stark's Pond.

I cruised at a considerably slower speed as I got farther away from the neighborhood. The roads weren't even that icy, like I thought they would be. As I got closer to Stark's Pond, deeper into the country side, the drive become more scenic. Trees were covered in glistening white snow, the edges glowing orange from the morning light. The snow on the ground was untouched, and I even got a tiny bit sad thinking about people stepping all over it, leaving their ugly footprints. It was better knowing that I was all by myself, and I smiled as I felt that peaceful feeling start to set in. It was definitely a new feeling, and I wanted to get used to feeling it more.

I pulled into the grassy lot at Stark's Pond and cut the engine. For a while, I simply sat back in my seat, admiring the beautiful sky from behind the foggy windshield. Every now and then, I watched a small rabbit that had turned its fur white for the season nibble on dead, frozen grass. I wish I had carrots. I would've tossed him a few.

I never really sat back and thought about how stressed I might be. I've been sitting in a pile of schoolwork that was probably up to my neck by now, and it wasn't even second semester yet. The idea of college had been wrapped around my head so many times that I think it'll cave in at any given moment, and all the preparation tests haven't been helping, either. My social life has gone completely downhill—I guess it was never uphill to begin with, but that's not the point—and I haven't enjoyed any of my favorite past-time activities in what seemed like forever. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that my PS3 had overheated from sheer loneliness.

I sighed. I've been doing a lot of that, too—sighing. I guess I was pretty stressed out.

I was about to check my watch for the time, when my phone buzzed with the arrival of a new message. From Clyde. Of course. It was seven thirteen, by the way.

Hey dude where are you?

Funny if you think about it. He can spell everything out and have proper capitalization and punctuation in a text, but not when he has a full keyboard under his nose. I don't get some people.

I tapped my phone rapidly against my thigh, wondering if I should text back. Instead of making up my mind, I got out of my car (I forgot about that rabbit; the sudden movement sent it bounding into the bramble) and stepped out into the cold, brisk air. I made my way down to the pond, not quite frozen over with ice, and blinked as the cold stung my eyes. I almost stopped halfway there, realizing that I myself was leaving ugly footprints that I had been loathing a minute ago in the clean snow. But I kept going, telling myself that nothing could be done about it, and if I was going to leave footprints in the snow, I might as well go where I had intended to go.

I stopped when I came to the edge of the pond, the waves slowly curling in, with a thin sheet of ice bobbing on top. My breath rolled out in smoky swells, curling under my nose before it evaporated in the thin atmosphere. The sun had risen halfway over the horizon now, and although I thought it impossible, the sky was ablaze with even more color than before. It was all just so . . . awesome.

My phone began to buzz. It didn't stop. I pulled it out before my ringtone came on and disturbed the peace. Okay, Clyde could text me, but not call me. Glad to see he cared and all, but not now. I rejected it, and slid my phone open, deciding to text him to get him off my back.

I'm still at home, I told him.

You driving to school?

Yeah.

Oh, okay. I just didn't see you walking, so I kinda freaked out. Alright, see ya at school.

Okay, see ya.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket. It actually was kind of nice to know he cared, and it made me feel better about myself after what happened late last night on the computer. I was still annoyed with him I guess, but not enough to snap at him through a text.

I really wanted to sit down. But I also didn't want to get my ass wet from melted snow. I stayed standing.

I scanned the view I had, pretending to take a really wide panoramic picture through my eyes. It was really cool, and I bet if I submitted that picture to the Art Fest, I'd win 1st place.

Everything was so pristine. You didn't have to alter a single thing to make it perfect. I even saw icicles hanging off of dead maple leaves that hadn't fallen off their branches yet. At first I thought that light snow would make the scene even more perfect, but then tossed that aside. It was sunny, and snow would make the sky gray and ruin the epic effects of the sunbeams.

Maybe this is what I was missing. A little bit of order, to make my life seem pristine. Right now it was so hectic and scrambled and just plain messed up that nothing was perfect. There wasn't one small, perfect, pristine little thing in my daily routine that I had to look forward to. Sure, I played video games and hung out with friends whenever I got the chance, but those things didn't give me this fulfilling feeling of peace like this did. It's amazing; just looking at a landscape can make you feel like this. I looked up into the sky where it was blue, and saw a faint sliver of the moon, with a few fading white dots that I knew to be stars. Even that was pretty. Maybe I should look at the sky more often.

By this time I could no longer feel my nose and earlobes, and my toes were really starting to hurt. I threw my head back, glancing at my car, then back to the lake. It was so pretty; I really didn't want to leave. But I had to, sometime soon. I reluctantly spun around on my heels and trudged back to my dingy old Buick. I quickly opened the door and slid right in.

I turned on the engine and started the heated seats again. I looked up at Darth, who greeted me with no facial expression. I grinned and flicked him with my two fingers, sending him swinging from his restricted length of string he dangled from my mirror by. I punched a button that turned on the radio, and waded through a lot of pop stations and death metal and jazz. I found one playing Impossible, by Anberlin.

I checked my watch. Seven twenty-one. I had twenty-four minutes before school started. I took one more long gaze towards the sunrise before closing my eyes and letting my shoulders go loose. The lack of sleep I had gotten was catching up to me.


I was going almost double the speed limit. I had probably run over a couple wild buffalos without realizing it.

"Shit, shit . . . Shit!" I kept muttering. I had slept in much later than I had intended. I woke up to my phone buzzing in my back pocket; Clyde was calling me.

"Hnghh," I said, holding up the wrong end of the phone to my ear. I clumsily flipped it around. "Clyde? What?"

"Dude, where the hell are you? Are you ditching or something?" he asked frantically.

"Huh? What time is it?" I asked, licking my lips. My mouth had fallen open, and was bone-dry. I blinked repeatedly, and wiped my sleeve across the windshield, which had gotten to the point of being so steamy that you couldn't see through it. The sun had almost risen above the tree line. No way.

"What time—dude! Where are you? Are you okay? You're never the one who's asking the time!" I could hear panic rising in his voice. He was probably only worried because he wouldn't be able to get the answers in history if I didn't show. But he had a point. As my senses were slowly coming back, I snapped my wrist up and checked my watch. It was past eight fifteen. I had slept for almost an hour.

"Shit . . . Okay dude, I'm on my way," I told him. I hung up before he could reply, and shifted into reverse, and backed outta that parking lot faster than that bunny had disappeared into the bushes.

"Shit . . . Shit!" I said, shaking my head. I actually laughed a little, too. This was crazy. How could I let myself sleep for a whole hour? First of all, how could I let myself fall asleep in my car, with the heater on, the radio playing, and a beautiful, warm, orange sunrise right before my eyes? On a school day? Gosh, maybe I really shouldn't look at the sky more.

I've been having a really strange morning. I'm really confused. I like this peaceful feeling; I really do. But I don't think staring at sunrises is the way I should go for it. I should do something that . . . I can handle. I guess I can't handle sunrises.

But see, the thing is I don't recall ever having this wonderful feeling before. I don't know other ways I can reach it. If I knew I could feel this way by doing a certain hobby or something like that, then I would definitely clear out time for it. Even with my busy schedule and all that. I'd find a way to make it happen. So this is my dilemma. I know what I'm willing to sacrifice to get this feeling—but I don't know how to get the actual feeling. Unless I want to stare at sunrises every morning. Which is fine, I guess, but. . . I should find other ways; y'know?

I hit a speed bump in the road, and immediately hit the brakes. We're in the city limits now, I reminded myself, continuing at half the speed I had just been going. I sighed. Let's just get to school alive today.

I sat down roughly in my seat, near the back of the class. Clyde kept his eyes glued to me for the rest of the period. I managed to ignore it most of the time and focus on the lesson on Medieval Europe, but I still felt that creepy sensation on the back of your neck that you get when you know someone is watching you. I kind of get that a lot from Clyde.

When the bell rang, I tried to escape from the classroom as quickly as I could so I could avoid talking to Clyde, but the teacher, Ms. Molitor, pulled me aside. I stood meekly by her desk as she waited for the classroom to empty. My toes involuntarily curled inward when I saw Clyde linger outside the door, waiting for me to emerge.

"Here, Kevin, you didn't get the assignment paper," she said in her soft voice, handing me a double-sided paper, filled with questions. A study guide for a test. Great. Clyde would be all over me for this one. "That's due next Tuesday, alright?"

"Sure thing," I mumbled, trying to quickly place it in my binder without shoving it in. I kind of failed. She spoke to me again as I started to leave the room, making me stop in my tracks and turn around. Good, keep it up, Mrs. M. Maybe Clyde will be late and run off to his next class before he got a chance to talk to me.

"Kevin," she began, in a questioning tone that I didn't like all of the sudden. "How come you were thirty minutes late to class today? I got no note or call from a parent . . ."

I fingered the hem of my jacket rather uneasily. What do I say? I fell asleep watching the sunrise at Stark's Pond? Well, sometimes strange answers are better left unexplained. And she was a woman; maybe she did those kinds of things sometimes, so she would understand.

"I, uh, kind of . . . had an accident," I mumbled rather sheepishly. I hope her mind wasn't dirty like mine, because I was thinking of a million different little "accidents" that could've happened to me before class. I blinked before they could get the better of me.

She didn't seem to be thinking that way. "Alright; just try not to let it happen again. You're a good student Kevin, so I'll let this one slide. But next time, watch out," she warned with a nice smile. I smiled back and then ducked out of the classroom.

A strong arm immediately looped around my shoulders, weighing me down and making me slouch. I grimaced as he started pulling me away. My legs were a little longer than his and he got me started on awkward footing, so our walking was uncoordinated. It was very uncomfortable.

"Kev, where were you this morning? You missed like, half the lesson!" he exclaimed, grinning like it was Christmas.

"Uh, Stark's Pond," I said truthfully, although reluctantly. I felt like I was being suffocated in a cloud of Axe—I tried not to gag on air. I felt his hazel eyes land on me.

"Stark's Pond? What were you doing there?"

". . . Sleeping," I said, trying really hard not to look at him. His arm slid off my shoulders.

"Sleeping? Wha . . . are you serious?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I fell asleep in my car at Stark's Pond."

"What were you doing at Stark's Pond? That's like a ten-minute drive from my house!"

"I know," I said, wishing that not so much of his smell had rubbed off on me. It was irritating my nose. "I was, um, watching the sun come up."

He didn't say anything for a second; he just stared at me with his mouth open in a toothy smile. "You . . . went to Stark's Pond to watch the sunrise?"

I nodded. I didn't really want to add any more of my own words to the conversation. I felt stupid enough as it was.

He thumped me good-naturedly on the back. I hate to admit that it kind of hurt. "Awh, that's so cute, man! You watched the sunrise!"

I grumbled and made a face. Was his purpose in my life to make me look stupid? Well, maybe not. He definitely had his fair-share of dumb moments. In fact, it was such a fair-share that it would take me a really long time to go over and count them all.

So that made me feel even worse. I'm being made stupid-looking by someone way more stupid than me. Cool.

"Shut up Clyde," I muttered, stepping away from him. "It was nice."

He chuckled. "I'll take your word for it," he said, smiling. "See you at lunch."

I didn't say anything. I turned down the hallway and tried to forget about him for the rest of the day.

It didn't work so great. At lunch he came to our table, bubbling over with excitement, with important news. The school had set a date for the Holiday Dance, and apparently, all of us needed to find dates before they were taken.

I had lost my appetite, and my lunch had pretty much been ruined. Clyde "cleaned up" my lunch for me.