A/N: Thank you everyone who is taking an interest in this story. I just wanted to let you all know in advance that this is completely unbeta'd so please bear with the plot holes and gramatical errors. I'm doing my best to catch them but anywho enjoy!

Jo Harvelle woke up to her alarm blaring at five thirty on Monday morning, the memory of the incredible dream she had been having fading quickly as she slapped the top of her alarm clock clumsily to shut the irritating sound off. With a groan that resonated through her whole body, she swung her feet off the edge of her bed and stretched her arms up over her head, her back protesting at the sudden movement. She was still stiff from late shift she had at the bar last night. Some drunk assholes had decided it was fun to shove their gum into cracks in the floor and Jo had been there well past closing time, trying to pick it out. As she stood up, she could feel her spine crack sharply, but then she felt a little better after that.

With a wide yawn she shuffled across her room and fumbled along the wall for the light switch. It was still dark out, and when light flooded her room Jo flinched and shielded her eyes. Once she had adjusted to the sudden brightness, she glanced around her messy room with a scowl. Her clothes were strewn everywhere on the carpeted floor and her books for school were stacked in a haphazard pile on her desk, seeming like they were going to fall at any moment. Her mother was always telling her to pick up after herself, but Jo was always too busy to worry about things like folding her shirts or organizing the papers on her desk. Besides, she always knew where everything was. With a sigh, she spotted what she was looking for under a pile of old tee shirts. She pulled out her wrinkled sweatpants and a tank top, donning them in place of her holey pajamas. She pulled socks onto her cold feet and grabbed a pair of sneakers out from under a skirt that she wore to a party on Saturday. After slinging an old sweatshirt over her shoulder, Jo switched her light off and left her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Quietly, she padded down the hallway. She passed her mother's room and saw that the door was slightly ajar. Her mom, Ellen, would still be asleep for another couple hours. She didn't open her bar until eleven on weekdays. That must be one of the perks of owning her own business, Jo thought as she descended the stairs, taking care to hop the step that squeaked shrilly whenever somebody put any weight on it. She planned on owning the bar after her mom thought she was ready. She didn't even want to bother with college, but Ellen had been adamant on getting her to apply. Jo was only persuaded once her mother said that her dad would have wanted her to go to college. He had died when Jo was seven, and while she didn't really remember him much it was enough to guilt her into sending in an application to University of Kansas. She got her letter of acceptance in March and she hadn't ever seen her mother prouder.

In the kitchen, Jo flicked on the lights and turned on the coffee maker. With robotic movements she stuck a piece of bread in the toaster and poured herself a bowl of cheerios. She ate the cereal slowly at the counter, waiting for her toast and the coffee to finish. It wasn't long before she swallowed her last bite of buttered toast, downed the last gulp of her caffeinated drink, and washed her bowl and spoon. By then it was just a few minutes to six and the sky outside the kitchen window was turning a light shade of gray. She had an hour and a half before she had to be showered and ready for school. That was plenty of time for her usual running route.

Jo tidied up the kitchen after herself and shut the light off in there. In the entry hallway she laced on her sneakers and grabbed her iPod and keys from the little dish by the front door. Sticking both into the pockets of her sweats, she let herself outside and breathed in the fresh spring air. It was going to be another warm day, she thought with a grin as she pushed her headphones into her ears and set off at a jog down the quiet street. Every other house was still dark, the people inside only just waking up to greet the day. Jo jogged by them all, the grin never falling from her face.

Around six fifteen, Dean Winchester's alarm went off, blasting some long guitar solo from an obscure classic rock song in his ear. With a stifled groan, he fumbled around on his bedside table until his fingers found his alarm clock and silenced it. There was a grunt from the other side of the room accompanied by the sound of rustling sheets and the creak of the floorboards.

"Dude, you have got to change that alarm. It gives me a headache every morning," his little brother, Sam, moaned. Dean heard him yawn and stretch.

"Don't lie to yourself, you know you love it," Dean shot back. His face was still pressed against his pillow, and when Sam didn't respond he wasn't sure whether or not his little brother had heard him.

"You gonna shower?" Sam asked as Dean finally shoved himself into a sitting position and stretched. Sam was rifling through a drawer, pulling out a pair of jeans and some nerdy tee shirt that Dean had gotten for him for a birthday a few years ago. He ran a hand through his bed-mussed hair, yawning widely and glancing over at Dean, waiting for an answer.

"You go ahead," he said, waving at Sam dismissively. "I'll make breakfast."

"Thanks, man." Sam turned and padded out of the room and into the shadowy darkness of the hallway. Dean heard him close the door to the bathroom, and not long after that turn the shower on. With a grunt, he heaved himself out of bed and walked down the hallway as well. The light from the crack under the bathroom door illuminated the narrow space just enough for Dean to see where he was going, but he had walked the length of their apartment so many times that it really didn't matter if he was in the pitch black. He walked as quietly as he could past his parents' bedroom, hoping that if they were still asleep he wouldn't wake them.

"Dean," he heard his mother, Mary, call softly from inside the room. So at least they were already awake.

"Yeah, mom?" He stuck his head into their bedroom and saw her reaching up and flicking on her bedside lamp. His father, John, covered his eyes and groaned softly, rolling away from the light. Dean smirked and looked back at his mother's warm face. She had bags under her eyes from a late shift at the diner.

"Can you put the coffee on?"

"Yeah, no problem." He was about to let them be when he stopped and stuck his head back into the room. "I'm gonna scramble some eggs, too. Anybody interested?"

"That'd be nice, thank you so much, Dean" Mary said with a smile.

"Some for me, too," John groaned from his side of the bed. Mary shoved him, rolling her eyes and Dean heard the rumble of John's deep chuckle. "Please."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said as he walked down the hallway and into the little kitchen nook. He set the coffee maker on and got right into making breakfast for the whole family. Knowing Sam's appetite, he ended up cracking around ten eggs into a frying pan. He also stuck four pieces of bread into the toaster oven and pulled out an apple for himself. With one hand he mixed the eggs and with another he ate the apple in a few big bites. The coffee maker wheezed as it ground out a few ounces of dark liquid.

He heard Sam shut the hot water off and walked back into their room, probably to get his books together and get dressed. Dean grinned as he thought about his kid brother checking to make sure he had all of his homework ready for school. Sam was a good kid. It was his first year in high school and he was doing better than Dean ever had. He was getting almost perfect grades, he played football in the fall, all of his teachers loved him, and Dean had never heard of him getting into a fight with anybody. Whenever he saw him in the cafeteria he was surrounded by a good group of kids who were all laughing and joking around.

Meanwhile Dean, a senior, had only just scraped getting into the University of Kansas and was on the black list of most of his teachers. The only ones who liked him were the ones who taught subjects he actually tried in, like his English teacher, Mr. Shurley, and his history teacher, Mr. Singer. The art teacher, Ms. Barnes, loved him too but there wasn't a student at Lawrence High School that she didn't like. Dean loathed high school and he couldn't wait to get out of that hellhole. With dicks like Michael Smith and Zachariah Thompson walking around like they owned the place, Dean was surprised that anybody put up with going at all. He only stayed in school because he didn't want to disappoint his parents. Both of them hadn't gone to college and his dad didn't even get his GED. They would never forgive him if he dropped out, but graduation was only a month and a half away. Dean was so close he could almost taste it, and he only had to suffer through a handful more weeks of high school before he was done for good.

He tossed away his apple core, spooned the eggs onto four separate plates, the biggest serving set aside for Sam, and spread some jelly on each slice of toast. One by one everybody was drawn into the kitchen by the smell of cooked breakfast. Dean cleared out of the kitchen nook, given that there was no room for more than one or two people, and placed his plate on the little round table in the central living room of the apartment. Sam snatched his plate and sat down next to Dean, his long shaggy hair still dripping onto his gray tee shirt. John walked over to the front door and grabbed the newspaper left there, flipping through the first few pages as he brought his own plate to the table. Mary poured coffee for everybody and sat down with her family, sighing contentedly.

"This looks so great, Dean, thank you," she said, taking a bite of egg.

"No problem," he replied around a mouthful of toast.

"Dad, have you seen my copy of Macbeth?" Sam asked, pouring salt and pepper onto his eggs. "I thought I saw you move it yesterday."

"No, sorry, Sam," John answered distractedly. He seemed to be really engrossed in whatever he was reading. Dean rolled his eyes at their dad and glanced at his brother.

"I think it's on my nightstand," he said.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him. "What's it doing there?"

"I was looking for something yesterday and moved it."

"Yeah, thanks for telling me."

Dean smirked at him and scraped the last bits of egg off his plate.

"Dean you have a baseball game today, right?" Mary asked around her mug of coffee. "And Sam, you have rehearsal?"

He said, "No, it's tomorrow," and glanced sideways at his brother. He knew Sam was expecting a snarky comment about the fact that he was involved in theatre. Dean couldn't believe it when he heard that San got a part in the musical. He had laughed for maybe five minutes before he could get it together and speak again. Sam never explained why he auditioned in the first place, but Dean suspected it had to do with that blonde girl that Sam was almost always sitting next to at lunch.

"Yeah," Sam said in a guarded tone. "The show's on Friday so I'm gonna be there late every day this week."

Dean couldn't resist. "So how's your costume?"

"What?" Sam asked, confused. Dean looked him dead in the eye and tried to look genuinely serious.

"How is your costume?" he repeated.

"I—uh… why do you care?"

"I'm just curious if they make tights big enough for you," Dean snorted as he stood up. Sam glowered at him and shoveled a huge mouthful of egg into his mouth, refusing to respond. Dean saw John's face break into a grin behind his newspaper. Mary scowled.

"Dean, knock it off and apologize to your brother," she chastised.

He swallowed the last of his coffee and grinned. "Sorry, Sammy." He dumped his plate in the dishwasher and headed back toward his room, hearing his brother grumble something along the lines of "Yeah, whatever," at his back. Dean just laughed as he dressed, shoving carelessly done homework into his backpack and otherwise preparing for the day.

Charlie Bradbury was woken up around six forty-five by an insistent pinging from her iPhone. Instantly she was wide awake and groping for it, wondering what had happened in the gaming world while she was asleep. The phone was tucked under the corner of her pillow, right at the edge of her bed. She had fallen asleep with it in her hands, chatting with her two friends about the video game she had just beat them at. Ed Zeddmore had whined like a baby that she had somehow cheated (because there was no possible way that a girl could have beaten him on her first time playing the game) and Charlie had laughed in his face as best she could through texts. Harry Spangler had laughed along with her, but only because she knew he had the biggest crush on her. She had tried to tell him several times before that one, that she was a senior and seniors didn't date sophomores and two, she was playing for the wrong team. He was undeterred, if the texts Charlie had just received told her anything.

Want to hang out tonight? We can have a Lord of the Rings marathon

Charlie bit her lip and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. She knew that Harry meant well, but she really didn't want to lead him on. He was a good guy. Besides, somebody else had already caught her eye. She did want to stay friends with him, though.

Sighing, she typed out: Sure. We can bring Ed and watch him quote every Gandalf line :)

When there was no response for a while, she added: What are you doing up now, anyway? I thought you were morally against getting up before 7

To that, he responded quickly. My mom made pancakes

She grinned. They must be good if they get you out of bed early

You haven't lived until you've tried them

Well I guess that means I'll be a zombie until I do try them

The phone was quiet for a while, and then: I'll hold you to that ;)

Charlie groaned and tossed her phone to the end of the bed. Why did he always have to end up flirting with every conversation? She was aware that she was gorgeous and she supposed that Harry was into the whole 'dating older girls' thing but why couldn't he see that the pursuit was hopeless? It was like Eowyn and Aragorn. It was just never going to happen. Aragorn was madly in love with Arwen, the flawless elven princess already.

"I guess I just need to get my elven princess to fall in love with me," Charlie sighed sadly as she stood up, thoughts of her beloved filling her head. Anna Milton. Even her name was beautiful. She was a junior and she was perfect in every way. She was willowy and quiet, she had flaming red hair even brighter than Charlie's, her eyes were like dark emeralds, and she had the most gorgeous smile. Even better was that she was single and as far as Charlie knew she never had a boyfriend while in high school. There was a chance, however slim, that things could work out. Maybe if Charlie got her alone for a little while—

"Oh no you don't," she scolded herself, looking into her mirror. Her reflection was shadowy given that she hadn't even turned the lights on yet. Dim light was filtering through the sheer curtains covering her window. She ran a hand through her hair, which was in complete disarray because she didn't brush it last night after her shower. There was no chance of making it work with her today, so she dejectedly pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail at the back of her head. "It's way too early to be having those kinds of thoughts, Charlie." Her reflection looked back at her almost defiantly and she rolled her eyes at herself.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

Chuckling to herself, she began to get ready for school. Her alarm would be going off any minute anyway, so there was no point in trying to catch a few more minutes of rest. Searching through her drawers, she pulled out a Doctor Who tee shirt and a pair of jeans. She laid them on the bed, scrutinizing her outfit choice, and then nodded and bounded over to her closet, pulling out a pair of black Converse with neon green laces. Perfect. She put those down on the foot of her bed and noticed her phone light up with a new text. Uncertainly, she reached over and saw Harry's name plastered across the screen.

Ed's down for LOTR marathon was all it said. Charlie heaved a sigh of relief and began her reply immediately.

Sounds awesome. I'll be sure to bring my battle axe so we can go all out :)

Cool. See you at lunch

Bye!

Smiling widely she shut her phone off to save battery and shoved it into the front pocket of her backpack. Maybe he was getting the message, but maybe pigs were learning to fly. She just resolved to be careful around him until she could properly gage what his feelings toward her were, and then she would take action. If it meant she would have to give him a cold smack of reality and kiss a girl in front of him, so be it. The real trick would be finding a girl to kiss.

And with that more dirty thoughts about Anna Milton crept into her mind. Charlie only halfheartedly tried to bat them away as she went to go make breakfast for herself. Unlike Harry, whose mom made him breakfast almost every morning, her parents both left for work early and came home after she was in bed. She only ever saw them on weekends unless one was sick and forced to stay home. That was fine by Charlie, though. They didn't really know each other well enough to mind the constant separation. They worked hard and earned a lot of money. They were sending Charlie to an expensive private college to study computer sciences and got her anything she needed or wanted. The little talks they had here and there were enough for her.

Still, the big kitchen with marble tiles felt empty with only thoughts of Anna Milton to keep her company as she ate a cold breakfast at the table all alone.

Gabriel Novak woke his brother up with a wet willy at precisely seven o'clock. Castiel growled and swatted the uncomfortably wet finger away, trying but failing to get Gabriel to leave him alone.

"Time to get up, bro," Gabriel laughed in his ear. Castiel tried to pull the sheets up over his head to create a barrier between his obnoxious little brother and himself, but Gabriel would have none of that. He grabbed the sheet and yanked it from Castiel's grasp. "Oh no. Dad told me to get you up so rise and shine!"

"No," he groaned into his pillow, his voice thick from sleep.

"Don't make me make you get up," Gabriel warned. Castiel heard him laugh like a classic movie villain, and he could already see the uncomfortable pranks Gabriel was capable of. On a Monday morning, Castiel wasn't sure he could handle that. So, reluctantly, he dragged himself out of the warm cocoon of sheets and blankets and blinked in the brightness of his room. Gabriel frowned at him.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't get up," he sighed. "I had some big plans for you this morning."

"Which is precisely why I did get up," Castiel sighed as he stood up and stretched. "I need to change, so please go back downstairs."

"Whatever." Gabriel shrugged, clearly disappointed, and trudged out of the room. Castiel closed the door behind him and leaned against it, like he was trying to keep the rest of the world at bay. Looking around his pristine room, he sighed again. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon was wafting up from downstairs. No doubt his father was cooking. Mondays were his day off, after all, and he loved to cook when he didn't have to be at work. Gabriel and Hester would already be dressed and eating downstairs, no doubt. They would probably be having a pleasant conversation with their father about schoolwork and extracurricular activities. Castiel pushed away from the door and sighed again.

Why was it so easy for them? Castiel always found it challenging to communicate fluidly with others, most of all people that he cared about. The worst, though, was Dean Winchester. Castiel sat right behind him in English class and he couldn't for the life of him get a clear word out when speaking with him. Whenever he did muster up the courage to start a conversation, Dean's brilliant green eyes or his freckles would always distract Castiel from what he was trying to say and then he would catch himself staring embarrassingly at Dean's confused and slightly uncomfortable face. Those rare moments always ended in a beet red face and a few awkward laughs and then they wouldn't speak again for weeks. Dean never started the conversation.

Castiel slowly pulled on jeans and a thin sweater that was slightly rumpled. He had worn it once the week before, but it was still clean. There was a pair of clean white sneakers at the foot of his bed, and he slipped those onto his feet and glanced in the mirror above his dresser. His dark hair was a mess, but no matter how hard he tried to tame it, it never seemed to cooperate. There were dark rings under his eyes because Castiel had been up late the night before reading. He had been so engrossed in the book they were reading in English that he decided to go ahead and finish it. It had kept him up until three thirty in the morning.

"Come get breakfast while it's still hot, Castiel!" his father shouted up the stairs.

"I'm coming!" Castiel returned as he grabbed his backpack and exited his room. There was no need to check if he had all of his books because he packed everything last night immediately after completing his homework. He walked down the steps quickly, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, and walked into the warm expanse of the kitchen.

Castiel's father, Richard Novak, was at the stove just shutting off the gas powered flames. There was a steaming plate of bacon at the center of the oblong table, where both Hester and Gabriel were sitting. Hester had a worksheet for what looked like math laid out in front of her and Gabriel was doing his best to doodle on the margins without her noticing. Castiel grinned when Hester jabbed him in the side, finally getting him to stop. She was a freshman and he was a junior, and she was taking none of the mistreatment Castiel faced.

"Eat up," Richard said when he noticed his oldest son hovering in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Thank you," Castiel replied as he took a seat across from his siblings and helped himself to a few pieces of bacon. The food was greasy and a little too soft for his liking, but he ate it all the same because it was a kind gesture by his father and he wasn't going to act like a snob.

"Alright we need to get moving because I'm meeting a friend from out of town today," Richard said suddenly, glancing up at the clock. It was just past seven fifteen. "Can we roll out of here in five minutes?"

"I still need to get dressed," Gabriel complained.

"Then go get dressed," his father shot back. "And be quick about it."

Gabriel got up from the table, muttering something under his breath and regarding his father with a dark gaze. Castiel was not envious of whatever his father was going to face later that day.

"With whom are you meeting?" he asked lightly when he finished the last piece of bacon he served himself.

"A friend from college named Uriel. I don't think you kids ever met him."

"No I don't believe we have."

"He's a good guy," Richard murmured, for a moment lost in the memories of his old friend. Castiel didn't try to prod further because to be perfectly honest, he wasn't that interested in his father's old friend. Instead he wiped his hands on a napkin and went to the sink to wash the grease from his face. The kitchen was quiet until Gabriel came leaping down the stairs, dressed in jeans and white tee shirt with some pop culture reference that Castiel didn't fully understand. Gabriel had given up long ago on trying to explain these kinds of things to his older brother.

"Ready?" Richard asked them all, grabbing his car keys.

Nobody answered him, and they all filed out the back door to the garage where they piled into the SUV and headed to school only a couple minutes early.

"Adam, honey?" a gentle but firm voice murmured in Adam Milligan's ear. He turned away, not wanting to hear it. "It's time to get up. You overslept." That made him open his eyes. He looked into his mother, Kate Milligan's face and squinted.

"What time is it?" he groaned.

"Almost seven thirty. Your alarm must not have gone off," she told him, backing away.

He sat bolt upright, gaping at the clock. "Oh God I can't be late again," he moaned jumping out of bed. The sudden change in levels made him dizzy and he was struck by a feeling of vertigo. He felt his mother's soft hand on his elbow, steadying him.

"Get dressed quickly and we can be out the door as soon as you need," she said. "I'll go get something for you to eat." Without another word she walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

Adam slammed the door behind her and began frantically searching for something decent to wear. He pulled on a tee shirt, sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans before realizing that he had the shirt on backward and the fly on his jeans was down. Growling at himself, he fix everything and grabbed his backpack from where it was resting against his desk. The zipper hadn't been done up, so a few books spilled out onto the floor of his room amongst dirty clothes and clean laundry scattered everywhere. Growling again he stuffed the books into his bag and zipped it with more force than necessary, worrying for a moment that the zipper might actually break.

Mr. Walker was going to kill him if he was late for homeroom one more time. He got a warning last week when he got stuck inside the equipment shed before first period by a bunch of dickhead jocks and another one the week before that when his mom's car broke down on the way to school. If he didn't make it on time today then there would be hell to pay.

Almost sprinting across the decently sized apartment, Adam saw his mom walking from the kitchen with a brown paper bag in one hand and an apple in the other. He grabbed both and together they headed for the door and down the hallway. They lived on the second floor of their complex so rather than waiting for the elevator, Adam took the stairs two at a time. His mother struggled to keep up with him and he ended up waiting by the car a few moments for her to catch up. She was slightly out of breath.

"You seem excited to get to school," she joked once they were both seated and the engine was running.

Adam tried to grin but it ended up more as a grimace. "Yeah, super excited."

"If you do end up getting in trouble just call me, okay?" she said as the pulled out of the parking garage and into the busy street. "That one time two weeks ago for being late was no fault of yours and they shouldn't be punishing you for it."

"Yeah." Adam hadn't told his mother about the other times he had been late because of the jocks. He didn't want her to worry about him because she worried enough as it was. She had made him transfer schools after his freshman year at a different high school because of similar problems. They had had to move between school districts and Adam knew that had caused her a lot of problems with commuting for work, but somehow they had made it work out. Still, he could see that she was strained every night after she comes home.

"You'll be on time," Kate said as she glanced at the dashboard clock. It was only seven thirty five. School started at eight and it took twenty minutes or so to get there. She was right. Hopefully. Still, he noticed she put on a burst of speed after a red light. He smiled at her and saw her smile back out of the corner of his eye, and not for the first time he was thankful to have such a great mom.

Meg Masters rolled dark mascara onto her eyelashes as she smirked at her reflection. Loud punk music was filtering from her bedroom, playing from her iPod speakers. The lights in the bathroom flickered uncertainly as she screwed the cap back onto the mascara and tossing the tube into her makeup bag. She was well aware that school was starting in five minutes and that she would undoubtedly be late but it didn't matter to her. She was out late last night and if she looked like shit then she might as well not show up.

As she walked out of the bathroom she flicked the light off carelessly. The rest of the house was empty except for her dad, passed out on the couch downstairs. Her brother, Alastair, went out last night and didn't come back, much to Meg's satisfaction. One less thing for her to deal with in the morning. It's not like she needed him harassing her to start off a great day. She sauntered over to her dresser, where her iPhone was plugged into the speakers. There was a message flashing on the screen from her best friend since freshman year, Ruby Donovan.

Hey bitch meet me behind the sports shed during lunch

Meg smirked and typed back, See you then slut ;)

She knew that Ruby would probably have the good stuff with her. Ruby had connections that got her the best weed that Meg had ever smoked. She had tried getting Ruby's source out of her but for some reason she could never get the bitch to spill the beans.

Sliding a pair of heeled black leather boots over her black leggings, Meg glanced around her room. Everything she needed was shoved into her bag carelessly: the homework that she had left undone, the shitty books they were reading in English, and everything else that joke of a school assigned. She hooked the bag over her shoulder and strutted down the hallway and down the rickety stairs, careful to skip the steps that squeaked. She was not in the mood to deal with a hungover father that morning, thank you very much.

She slowly lowered her foot onto the hardwood of the entry hall and peeked around the corner at the living room. She saw her father's hairy arm slung over the side of the couch. The TV was still on, tuned into whatever he fell asleep watching the night before. She was about to stride through the front door when she heard a low, menacing groan from the couch.

"Meg," her father called in a slurred voice. "Get over here."

Grimacing, she stopped in her tracks and debated whether or not to just leave. She knew she would regret that later that evening, though, so she took a deep breath and walked into the living room, just far enough to be out of reach of her father's arms.

"Yeah?"

"I said get over here," he grunted, waving a hand clumsily. Meg maneuvered so that she was in his line of sight but still closer to the door than to him.

"What is it?"

"Don't get that tone with me." He glowered at her as he heaved himself upright.

Meg didn't respond.

"I need cash," he finally said.

Her eyes narrowed at the demand, her hand unconsciously snaking to her back pocket where she kept her wallet. "I have you my last bill yesterday. I haven't got any more."

He stood up suddenly, surprising her, and lumbered over to where she was standing. "Don't lie to me, girl," he growled, looming over her a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon gone wrong. Meg backed up as far as she could until she was pressed against a wall. He followed her, never letting her get far away from him.

"I'm telling the truth," she tried to say boldly, but her voice came out more like a whimper than a challenge. The bruises on her arms and side were already starting to ache in memory of the last time he had asked for money and she had nothing to give. He sneered at her, his yellow teeth filling her vision and his foul breath wafting into her nose. She watched with wide eyes as he raised a hand into the air, the fingers loosely in the shape of a fist.

"Fine," he spat, letting his saliva spatter her face. Meg blinked but didn't dare wipe it away. He ran his raised hand through his oily hair and backed away, giving her room to breathe. "But if you don't come home with money for me I don't think I'm gonna be as nice."

Meg nodded and didn't ask questions. Instead, she bolted for the door. Outside, the sun was high and it was warm. She checked her phone and saw that it was already eight twenty. She was definitely going to get detention, but that was the least of her worries as she began the ten-minute walk to school. Her whole body was still shaking from the encounter with her father, and there were tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes. Of course, by the time she reached the front doors of the school those were wiped away and a subtle smirk was pasted onto her fine featured face, daring anybody to try and mess with her.