I finally just stopped asking.

After Ben pulled out my book unwrapped from the very box it came in, I just assumed that NO ONE in the entire frikin world read my book. Or that those who did assumed I was Ben Gates. Well, aside from the FBI of course, I actually got a note from them saying it was a good book and very interesting. The note surprised me but if someone wrote a book on government conspiracy theories, and they didn't know about it, they wouldn't be doing their job all that well. And the cover did say Riley Poole, I promise. (I checked after the seventh person asked if I was Ben Gates.)

I forced a small, tense smile as I explained my book to the people I cared about most, the very ones who didn't read it. I became so enraptured in my thoughts that I didn't realize that Abigail was talking to me until she poked me. She asked me a question about something, I dunno. But I knew that play, she was trying to apologize and make me feel better.

"Why don't you go ask Mr. History over in the corner?" I asked tightly, pointing to Ben in the corner muttering feverishly under his breath.

"Riley, Ri, what's wrong?" she asked me, at least she sounded concerned.

"Nothing. And it's Riley. Only my friends call me Ri,"

"I'm your friend," she protested, sounding slightly offended. Good. I scoffed out,

"Friends are people that depend on each other! You obviously don't need me. Ben has the history, Patrick the rides, you the authority, Emily the translating. I'm worth nothing. Nothing but another person to worry about," Then I looked at her to see shock written on her face.

"Why else do you think I wrote a book?" I asked with a sarcastic smirk of a smile on the verge of tears. I left the room. No one noticed and Abigail was too in shock to tell them.

I sat down on the bed in the room I had in their house and cried. I knew I wasn't needed or noticed or helpful until I had even a shred of value (value that could be found elsewhere [read: Internet]) but that doesn't mean I didn't like pretending. I'm sure Ben wouldn't notice I was gone until it was time to leave. At this rate it'll be a few hours, so I let myself lay down and I cried myself to sleep.

I had a dream. In it, I was really, for all intents and purposes, Ben. I was popular, noticed, wanted, needed. And then I woke up to find I was just me. The tears came again, harder than before.

"Well this sucks royal hippogriff," I voiced aloud to myself. I sat alone, taking comfort in solitude and a laptop the only way a true geek can. Until Ben burst into the room and said,

"We need your help, can you...?" I cut him off,

"Probably. Will I? Probably not," I was very relaxed about it and he seemed to notice. Good. I kept typing up an email to the FBI that I was sending as a thank you for the note and encouragement. I also said that it seemed that no one had read it and that they could have any and all copies I had on hand (a LOT) if they wanted them.

"What's your problem?" he asked shocked.

"Have you ever stopped and thought that maybe YOU'RE my problem? I've been up here for... Eh, about seven hours. And you obviously didn't notice, didn't care, or decided you didn't need me down there," I said decisively.

"Riley, we were just talking about history," he defended.

"And you don't need me there because I know nothing about history," I completed the sentence in a monotone,

"I understand enough history to be able to follow the conversation Ben. I'm not five years old!" I sighed, What do you need me to do?"

He launched into a complex plan that I wasn't originally a part of until they realized I existed. Literally, I'm not involved until the very end. The VERY end, and the beginning I guess, doing whatever this was. I just had to tap into a database and get a picture of a plank. No big deal I finished in two minutes. Ben started to leave and I said,

"Hey Ben,"

"Yeah?" he asked half way out the door.

"I'm staying here. Until I pack, then I'll leave and get out of your hair. Permanently. Sorry for being such a nuisance," I shrugged out the last part.

"Riley? When have I ever given you reason to think that you're a nuisance?" he demanded.

"Oh I dunno, after enough times of 'Riley' being moaned out at my suggestions or you constantly telling me to hurry up or not involving me at all until the last minute or you and Abigail shooting each other looks over my head as if I was seven and my parents were communicating something I shouldn't know. It just gets old. And I'm sure that I'm not needed. Why else would I write a book? To try and make a name for myself but I've gotten more positive feedback from the frikin FBI than the people I would say are closest to me,"

"Riley... I just... I just figured..."

"That you knew everything in there and so you shouldn't waste your time on such a lousy excuse for a book? Because that's what your body language is screaming at me now!" I said, it stung him I could tell. Well someone knows how I feel. Ha.

"If you insist on acting like a child then why don't you just leave?" he asked bitterly, after he got over the shock. The tears welled up for the umpteenth time that day. I let them flow as I nodded and started packing.

"Riley, Ri, I didn't mean it," he said running his hands through his hair.

"It's Riley and yes, you did! I'm always a nuisance and never helpful and everyone else can talk circles around me in history of anything but computers and video games! Do you know how many white, brunette guys with green eyes that wear glasses and love Converse are out there that know just as much, if not more, about computers than I do? I'm leaving. That's final," I started packing and he left without protesting. That's when I let the tiny choke of a sob I had pressing on my throat release. I slowly made my stuff fit into the small suitcase and my guitar case, that did hold a guitar that I actually CAN play. I started out the door when Patrick ask me where I was going.

"I'm going home, just like I promised. Ben, Abigail, Emily and you are set to find Cíbola just like y'all promised. And you're going to give Wilkinson credit for it just like Ben promised. So we're all men of our word really except for Abigail and Emily who happen to be women,"

"Pirates?"

"Jack Sparrow pwns ninjas. And I'm done with being in a place I'm never needed, or wanted at this rate,"

"Well, I'll miss your personality,"

"Thanks, and tell Abigail and Emily that I left. Only you and Ben know so far. Thanks again!" then I left the house and drove to my house an hour away. I felt my phone vibrate with a text constantly. I didn't pick up my phone until I had reached my, rather small, apartment. I looked down to see pleads from Abigail and Ben to stay. Patrick would've texted me too but he can't work his phone.

Shaking my head, I called their home phone.

"Riley!" Abigail said brightly.

"Speaker. Now," I heard the click and said,

"Everyone there?"

"Yep," Abigail said chirpily, and… is that smugly?

"Good, now tell me. Why should I come back?"

"You were helpful," Patrick said.

"Wrong," I spat out.

"You are the only one who could actually properly get everything set up so we don't get arrested," Emily said.

"Wrong again! If y'all were more discreet about it and decided to go via the Underground Tunnels like Ian or Wilkinson than maybe y'all wouldn't need lil ole me," I get my Texas twang back when I get angry or upset. Ben and Abigail knew this.

"Your book, you can prove it's real!" Abigail said with triumph in her voice.

"Wrong once again. I know it's real. You don't need to help me figure that out. I'm right. That won't change. Next?"

I managed to avoid their next tries until Abigail says,

"I miss you. And I feel really bad about not clueing you in and not involving you as much,"

"Look Abigail! Quit trying to guilt me into this! You are just as responsible for this than everything else! So shut your mouth unless you have something to say that's worth saying!"

"Don't talk to my girlfriend like that!" Ben protested.

I gave a watery smirk that they couldn't see and hung up. I turned my phone to silent and took a shower. I curled up in bed and replayed all of the times I believed myself to be helpful. Too bad most of them I made up.

Don't get me wrong! I don't want to end my life or anything! It's not like anyone would go to my funeral anyways. Disowned by family, unneeded by friends, unnoticed by girls. But who knows if there's computers in the after life? And all I need are computers and my iPod and food. Then I'm set for a while. Humans are much better company than computers. I checked my phone. I had fifty three messages. Nice. I sought out important ones. Aka the ones not from Abigail or Ben. Patrick's single text (probably got help, poor guy) just said,

'Please'

It made me happier. Emily's two said all this stuff about how special I am and other B.S. like that. I ran through Ben's. Mostly I'm sorry and come back. No pleases involved. Abigail started bribing me. I drove back. I planned on getting my stuff. It was all packed from when I never truly unpacked it. Just needed some of my larger stuff. When I pulled up I walked into the house and grabbed the rest of my stuff. Abigail started to talk to me and I brushed her off with a simple, "Not now,"

When I got home I ordered Chinese and cried myself to sleep.

I woke up to find tear tracks still on my face. I let my body wrack with the sobs as I completely broke down, something I haven't let myself do in twelve years. I didn't try to contain it but just let the tears and sobs flow freely. I eventually caught my breath and the tears slowed. I heard my phone ring. Cooler Than Me? Mike Posner? Ben.

"What Ben?" I growled out, the effect was slightly ruined by my voice cracking. You could totally tell I was crying.

"I... I just wanted t-to say that I'm so, so, SO sorry for what I said. I just got protective. You know how I do that, eh Riley?" he laughed. I wanted to puke and I almost did.

"But we need you. Abigail's heartbroken, we all need you for Cíbola, and I need my best friend back," Ben said. He's rehearsed this.

"Abigail has you, and you have her. And psh, as if you really actually need me, little ole me, for anything. You've got to be joking. It's this magical invention named Google. Notice: Can replace friends," I spat back.

"Oh just come back!" he pleaded.

"Here's a thought, send me an email including anything that may actually be interesting or pleasant about me and maybe I'll reconsider!" I hung up. I saw that the time was 7:13 am. I covered my head with blankets and would worry about this in the real morning.