Author's Note:

Now that Sempiternal is coming to a close, I decided to go ahead and start a new story. I really hope that you guys like this one just as much as you did Sempiternal, because I was never expecting the amount of support I got on that story. You guys completely took me by storm.

I'm really excited about this one.

There wasn't a single person in the world who knew me better than Courtney. She may have been emotionally unstable, extremely judgemental, completely neurotic and controlling, but she was also my best friend. I'm sure she would say the same thing about me. Except the part about being unstable, judgemental and neurotic, because I am certainly not those things. But I know her just as much, if not more.

Courtney Carter was the epitome of everything that I ever wanted to be. She was tall, tan, and had a thick, long mane of dark, golden hair. Her teeth were perfect, her eyes were the color of a deep blue sea, and she didn't have to work for a single thing that she had because her parents paid for everything. She knew how to cook- and not just from a box, but actual meals from scratch. And she didn't have to try to be beautiful; she just was. Everything she did seemed effortless.

I had always envied her.

That was until the day that she found out she was adopted.

It was a hot, humid day in Marietta, Georgia. There was a soft, summer breeze in the air that picked up every few minutes. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was blazing bright.

The Carters lived in a beautiful, brick rancher on a three acre plot of land in the suburbs. They owned two Golden Retrievers, and a cat. The sidewalk leading up to their house from the driveway was decorated with paw prints, hand and foot prints in the concrete. The front porch was covered in cardboard boxes, each marked with a different name- KITCHEN, PAMELA CLOTHES, MASTER BED, COOK BOOKS- which were waiting to be loaded into the giant moving truck that sat at the curb.

Inside the house was a typical, country style home; plaid wallpaper, picture frames that said "live, laugh, love", those little brown bear figurines. It smelled like blackberry cobbler and cinnamon, and there were stars with plaid bows on them in nearly every room. I grabbed the permanent marker and labeled the box WALL DECOR, and began pulling some of those plaid stars and picture frames down.

The Carters were the picture of a perfect family. I browsed over the many family portraits that I picked off the walls. Pamela and Donald Carter, and their beautiful daughter Courtney. There were dozens of photos from their annual trips to their condo in Hilton Head, that one trip they took to Orlando, and from when they spent time with family in Connecticut. I admired them. I was lucky to get my parents to even leave the house to go to the store, much less to go to Orlando or the beach.

Courtney had just gotten finished with her parent's bedroom when she found me. She was holding a tan envelope that was sealed with a red string. She didn't say a word, only stared at the front of the envelope.

"What is it?" I asked her, dusting my hands off on my shorts and joining her at her side. It read "State of Georgia Department of Social Services" across the top, and a few lines down in big red letters was stamped "CONFIDENTIAL". I waited for her to open it, but she wouldn't. "It's probably nothing, Court." I said in a reassuring tone, going back to the box I was working on. "Don't pry, it was hidden for a reason."

Her hands became unsteady as she fumbled with the red string to open the envelope. She pulled out the contents and began going through them. She was almost at the end when she stopped, her jaw dropped. "Well this can't be right." I couldn't tell if she was about to laugh or if she was choking back tears.

"What?" I pressed.

Her eyes skimmed over the paper in front of her again and again until her eyes became glassy. "Name of registrant, Courtney Grace Good."

"Good?" I asked, joining her at her side once again.

"Mother, Angela Anne Good. Father, there isn't one." Her slim finger ran along the printed words and she looked at me. Her face was red and blotchy and tears had begun to form in her eyes. "I'm adopted?"

Courtney flipped the paper over, revealing the large, bold letters that read "CERTIFICATE OF ADOPTION".

"Are you trying to tell me that you are not Pamela Carter's daughter?" I laughed lightly, but it wasn't helping. Courtney and her mother were just alike. Judgemental and unstable time-bombs of emotion. And they both had severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; things that I thought were genetic, but I was obviously wrong. I was joking because Courtney hates being compared to Pam, and I don't blame her.

She collected the papers and forced them back into the envelope. With balled fists, she stomped out of the foyer and out to the garage where her parents were packing the last of Don Carter's hand tools. I stood in the empty kitchen, watching through one of the many open windows as Court waved the envelope at her parents.

"What is this?" She demanded. Mr. Carter's shoulders dropped, and he went to take a step forward to his daughter, but she stepped back and asked them again. "What is this?"

"We were going to tell you, honey. We just- we were going to wait until we thought you were ready." Pamela said, not trying to hide anything, she glanced up at the house and saw me looking on. It was easy to see she didn't want to be having this conversation in this context.

"Ready? I'm twenty-two years old." Her voice became louder. "When did you think would be a good time, when I turned thirty? Forty? When you died and a lawyer told me?" Courtney threw the envelope on the ground at her adoptive parent's feet.

"Does it really matter, Court?" Mrs. Carter asked, looking down at the crumpled papers. "I know it does but, we're your parents. Angela Good, she was just… a young woman. She didn't have her life together. She couldn't take care of you. We raised you, and look at who you've become! A beautiful, smart, amazing young woman who we love with all of our hearts."

I stared out of the window with the feeling like I was imposing on a serious family moment- which, let's be honest, I was. So I grabbed the WALL DECOR box that I was working on before all of these things started happening, taped it up, and made my way out to the front porch. Courtney's yelling only got louder when I got out to the front porch. I sat down on the top step and wished that things could just go back to the way they were when Courtney was just Courtney Carter and not Courtney Good. All Mr. and Mrs. Carter wanted was to move into their beautiful beach condo and watch their beautiful daughter grow up, get married, and have beautiful kids. And they also wanted to keep her adoption a secret.

"What are you doing?" I heard her ask from behind the screen door. I didn't even notice that the yelling had stopped.

"I felt bad for imposing." I replied.

"Are you coming back inside?" She asked, and plopped down next to me.

"Actually, I was about to head home." I bit the inside of my lip, worrying that it'd be the wrong answer. I didn't want to be here if she needed time to process things alone, but I also didn't want her to feel like I was abandoning her in her time of need. "I figured you might need some time with your… family." I struggled with the word, not knowing if it would be the right thing to say. I wasn't sure of anything in this moment. Everything seemed so wrong.

"Nah, I don't need time." Her voice was harsh and sharp.

"You don't?" With that kind of bomb dropped on her life, what else would Courtney need besides time? I was skeptical. I knew her. We had been best friend since I could remember. She needed time. Time alone curled up in her bed with a bowl of raw cake batter, Grey's Anatomy, and some cute Youtube videos of talking porcupines.

Only her bed was in storage, waiting to be moved into our new apartment downtown, and she was supposed to be staying with her parents at their new condo until our move-in date in August. So she couldn't exactly curl up in bed. There was nothing else for her to do.

"Let's get out of here." She stood up and made way for her car.

"What?" I sat there dumbfounded.

She stopped in the middle of the driveway and turned back. "Come on, Evan. Please?"

"Court, we can't just leave. We aren't done loading the truck." I said and motioned towards the tower of boxes that I was sitting next to.

"No," She said as she opened her driver's side door. "they aren't done loading the truck. We are going to your house." I stuttered over what I was going to say for a moment. She was already in her car, buckled in, and rolling down the window. She had her sunglasses on and she was tying her hair back into a bun. "Ev, just come on. I want to know more. I can't just find out that I'm adopted and leave it at that. I want to know more and I just can't do that here right now. And besides, you're the journalist. Time to put that degree to some good use."

I didn't argue with her. There was no point to that, I had found that out years ago. Once Courtney had her mind set on something, there was no changing it. The black leather of her Civic was hot against the back of my thighs as I slid in the passenger seat.

Everything felt wrong. It did. It felt like I was in a dream; one that I'd wake up from any minute now, and call Courtney who'd laugh and tell me how ridiculous this was. In an attempt to wake myself up, I pinched the inside of my arm, but only cursed myself when I wasn't woken in my bed.

"What are you doing?" Courtney asked, taking her eyes off the road momentarily.

"I was hoping that I was dreaming." I answered honestly.

She laughed. "You and me both."

When we got back to my house, my parents were making grilled cheese. Our house wasn't as prim and proper as the Carter residence. Even though I had known Court for years, I still always winced whenever she stepped foot into my house. She never seemed to care, though, and I was always thankful for that.

"Courtney!" My mother was always excited to see my best friend. She enveloped her in a hug; Courtney having to bend down almost a whole foot to meet my mother who could probably be deemed a certified midget.

"Hey, Mrs. Owens." She replied. "Whatcha makin'? Smells delicious."

"Oh it's just grilled cheese. Would you girls like one?"

"Sure," I replied. "we're going upstairs. Can you just holler at us when they're done?"

My mother nodded.

I plopped down in my desk chair, lifting open my laptop. I stared at the blank search bar on Google and blinked a few times. Where would we even start? This was too surreal.

"What's wrong?" Court asked as she popped a cheese ball in her mouth and crunched it loudly in my ear.

"Uh, nothing. I just- wh- where do we start?"

"Here," She typed away furiously at the keyboard. "let's just start with Angela Anne Good."

We searched through document after document, looking for something useful.

Nothing.

"We don't have enough to work with." I told her after our third consecutive hour of sitting in front of my computer. My eyes burned, my back was sore, and my butt was numb. I was tired of watching her go through my old textbooks. They never taught anyone anything, if they did, I would know more than I did. Current score:

Life: 12,309,875,993

Evangeline: 0

"We have her name." She replied after a few moments. Courtney shut the book and slid it back on the shelf and dug her palms into her eyes. "That's got to count for something?"

"I wish it did, but seriously, Court. I've Googled the name Angela Anne Good at least 150 times. There's nothing. The only thing consistent is Cincinatti. She might live there. That might not even be her. I'm not a Private Investigator. I'm barely a journalist; just because I have a Bachelor's Degree doesn't really mean much."

"I have a brother." She said absentmindedly. It sounded almost as if she didn't care.

"WHAT?!" I screamed.

She just shrugged. Shrugged! As if this huge piece of news didn't matter!

"Yeah, my mom told me. Well, not my real mom. But- my- you know, my mom." Courtney sighed.

"I know, Court. It's okay." I added for support. I couldn't imagine how she felt right now.

"He uh- He's a couple years older. I don't know why Angela could have a kid and take care of him and not me. My mom met him when she met Angela to sign the adoption papers. His name is Jonathan. So, maybe we can find him." Her voice was low, mixed with exhaustion and disappointment and sadness.

My fingers flew across the keyboard as I searched the name Jonathan Good.

"Woah."

Courtney joined me at my side, her eyes widening as she saw what I saw.

"Woah."

And here we go!

1. Bruises - Train

2. I Know - Chris Batson

Reviews are encouraged and appreciated!