April 1987-

"Look! Fire trucks!" Skyla pointed and Daryl turned to watch as two of the red engines screamed past them.

"Let's follow them!" Billy Dean, the unofficial leader of their group picked up his bike and hopped on it.

Daryl hated being the only one of his friends who didn't have a bike. Even Skyla had one, but she wouldn't ride it. She said it was because it was pink, but Daryl knew it was because she didn't want him to feel left out.

They were the last ones to round the corner. Daryl felt weird, everyone was looking at him. What was going on?

"Oh my God." Skyla said as they pushed to the front of the crowd. "Oh, Dar…"

It was then Daryl saw that it was his trailer on fire. He surged forward, trying to run towards it. He could hear Skyla calling out for him, but it was just background noise to the rushing in his ears.

"Whoa, fella!" A fireman caught him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"That's my house!" Daryl told him. "My Mama is in there!"

"Are you Daryl?" The man asked and he nodded. "You need to come with me, son."

The man led him over to a police cruiser. "Am I under arrest?" He asked fearfully.

"No, of course not." The man said. "I just need you to sit here and answer some questions for me. Do you know where your Daddy is?"

Daryl shook his head. "No, sir." He said. "He's been gone for a few days. He does that sometimes."

The man sighed. "Daryl, I don't know how to tell you this, but the cause of the fire was from a lit cigarette. It seems like your Mama fell asleep with it in her hand."

"Where is she?" Daryl looked around for his mother. "Is she all right?"

"Son, she didn't make." The fireman told him. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Daryl started to shake his head. "No…that's not true. You're lying!"

"I wish I were." The man said simply and Daryl turned to run away, but the man reached out to grab him. "I can't let you go anywhere. Since we can't find out where your Daddy is and your brother is in the boys home, we're gonna have to put you in the system, at least until your Dad shows up again."

"Put me in the system?" Daryl asked. "You mean, like a foster home?"

"Yeah." The man sighed. "I'm sorry, but the law says-."

"Aaron Dixon's always taking off." Daryl looked up to see Skyla's Mee-Maw standing beside him. "He'll be back in a few days."

The fireman looked at her too, this elderly woman with a spine of steel. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Gaylene Adler. I live next door." She reached out and touched Daryl's head. "The boy can stay with us till his Daddy gets back from runtin' around."

The fireman wanted to argue and even brought one of the police officers in on it, but in the end Mee-Maw won out. Daryl was to stay with the Adler's until his father came home.

He and Skyla went into what was left of his home to see if they could find anything. It wasn't too bad, really, he thought. The only really burned part was his parent's old bedroom. He pushed that thought from his mind. His room and the rest of the house were pretty much saved.

Skyla helped him pack up his meager belongings. He was going to be staying in the Adler's guest bedroom.

"Now, you know that this room doubles as my sewing room, so be careful of this stuff." Mee-Maw told him as she brought him in.

Half the room was nicely made up with a bed, a dresser, and a small night stand. The other half held an old table with a sewing machine on it and shelves and shelves of craft supplies.

"Oh, I won't touch anything, Mee-Maw." He told her and she smiled at him.

"You're a good boy." She said. "Go on and get settled in. We'll call you when its time to sup."

"You want me to stay?" Skyla asked and he nodded.

She sat down on the bed and watched as he put his clothes in to the chest of drawers.

"Daryl, I'm real sorry about your Mama." She said and he nodded, but didn't look at her. "But I'm glad you're here."

Daryl felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes. He still didn't turn around; he didn't want Skyla to see him cry. It didn't seem to matter though; it was like she sensed it. She slid down into the floor beside and wrapped her skinny arms around his neck. At first he tried to push her away, but she wasn't letting him go. Finally he gave in and let her hold him. She pulled him up and led him to the bed. They lay down together, his face buried in her neck. And that's when he really started to cry.

"Shh, shh." Skyla comforted. "Let it all out."

And when he had cried it out, Skyla put her fingers under his chin and raised his face to hers. She leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

"You're my best friend." She whispered.

Daryl was eight years old when he lost his mother, and on the same day, he began to fall in love with the little girl next door.