Hello, hello! Thanks for reading, favoriting [this is not a word] and reviewing! It means so so so much to me.

I don't think a lot of you read this, but I'm going to try once again to say that what I say in this story are not necessarily my beliefs and I don't mean to offend anyone's religion or in any other way offend someone. If you are touchy about certain subjects like that PLEASE DON'T READ! I don't want you guys to be upset.

Now, because I feel like I should answer some of my reviewers. Sometimes, I send personal messages, but I feel that these problems need to be addressed because people may have the same problems. So...

coolcool02, I really am impressed by the strength of your religious beliefs, but people do think differently. I mean, if you believe that about God, I'm happy for you. However, other people believe differently than you do. I'm not going to say what I believe because I don't think it is anyone's business, but there are many other religions in this world. Perhaps I am not Christian? I don't think that reading the Bible will help me at all if that were the case. Perhaps I am very religious and have the Bible memorized. I'm just doing the best I can to portray how I believe my OOC characters are feeling in this situation. I really do love that you're reading my story and that you like it, but keep in mind that the story is not meant to persuade you to feel any way nor does it in any way reflect my religious preferences. And don't worry! I was not offended by your review (:. I hope you're not either! I'm just trying to explain my reasoning for making perhaps sacrilegious comments in my story!

Vamplove218, thank you! :D I am super thrilled you like my story! To respond to the "being anorexic / bulimic makes you perfect" part, I do not believe that at all! I am very, very close with several people who struggle with those disorders, and I know the challenges that it brings. I made Molly and Grace those specific disorders because I felt that it suited them the best. I know that people with self-esteem issues often develop eating disorders and I figured that maybe their low self-esteem is the reason that they are so mean, Molly especially, since Grace really is not that mean. However, Grace tends to do [well, sometimes] what Molly does, and so, thus, the dual eating disorders were born. Zander's depression is something that he thinks about the whole story, this chapter especially, as he is not entirely sure why he is depressed, or even if he is at all. Also, I didn't want to make it all too sad a story - I want a happy ending and I definitely don't want people to cry while reading it... too much! (: As for continuing, anything for you, my love!

Peacelovewriting32, I find Kevin über funny too. Personal favorite character? He has the guts to say what no one else does. He's so much fun to write as. This chapter, you get to see the reason he's the way he is. By the way, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! (:

Hoaluvpatrome567, so happy that you loved it! Hope you love this update too ! (:

Libba The Amazing, thank you, my love! (: I hope you love the rest of the story too!

Taylor, thank you so much for your review although you don't have an account! It means so much to me! (: I hope maybe you make an account one day, but until then, I'm glad that you're reviewing despite your inability to favorite!

So glad we cleared that all up! Love you all and I appreciate your kind words and reviews! You guys are the reason I keep writing! (: So... on with the story?

A/N: I do not own How To Rock, any of the songs used, The Catcher In The Rye, or the novel that this story is loosely based on.

Day 2:

"Have you used the phones yet?" I ask Nelson, who is seated on his bed beside me. We're watching our little television together, some cartoon that Nelson seems to enjoy but I've never seen.

"Nope!"

"How long have you been here?"

"23 days and counting."

"Don't you have any desire to call your parents?"

"Well, my mom comes and visits every Sunday, so you'll see her, um, TOMORROW!"

"What about your dad?"

His expression changes to one of almost fear, and I silently kick myself for asking. He obviously has family troubles that I don't know about and that I shouldn't have asked about.

"That man is in jail."

My usual nosy self, I have the desire to learn why. "Oh…"

"You probably want to know why."

I nod gradually, hesitantly.

"He… he sexually abused me as a child."

"I'm… I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine. I mean, you'd find out eventually. Why not let me tell you?"

"I'm really, really sorry, Nelson."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

I look at him, his eyes fixated on the television. I can tell he's upset, but he won't admit that to himself or to me. He looks as though he's holding back tears. But he's trying to be strong. For me. For himself. For someone.

"I'm really, really sorry to have brought it up. It was none of my business."

"It's fine. Stevie told me you're depressed. I guess we're even."

"Did she mention why?"

"She says she doesn't know why."

I look out the window at the busy people beneath. "Yeah. Me neither."

Standing in the bathroom mirror, I glance in at myself.

"Why are you here?" I ask myself aloud.

"Are you talking to yourself?" a voice asks. The voice is cold, angry. Kevin.

"Hey Kevin." He walks into the room. "Thanks for the privacy."

"Don't tell me you're schizo too. We've got enough dealing with Nelson and his stupid alligator."

"Crocodile," I reply, almost by impulse. Kevin gives me a strange look and I say, almost nervously, "Bill's a… crocodile."

Rolling his eyes, he groans, "I cared."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why are you…"

He cuts me off. "I'm diagnosed as antisocial personality disorder. I set fire to my school because…"

"No," I stop him. "Why are you like that?"

Giving me a face, he admits, "I'm confused."

"Like, do you have… family problems?"

"Who the fuck doesn't?" he laughs. I don't. I'm beginning to think more and more that I'm pathetic. He continues, noticing how serious I am acting. I'm not really in the laughing mood. "I watched my dad murder my sister when I was three. Strangled her. Two years later, he killed my mother. With a kitchen knife. That sort of thing… it traumatizes a kid."

"Oh my God…" I gasp. "How could he…"

"He's antisocial too. He has no remorse or consideration for people's feelings, like me. He was physically abused as a kid; his mom and stepdad were both abusive, and I guess that made him like he is. Like he was. He's dead now. I'm in… was in… foster care."

"But now you're here."

"Which is a shit load better than foster care, I'll tell you that much."

Again, he laughs.

"You're depressed, right?"

"Stevie told you?"

Kevin nods slowly. "She did."

"I like how word travels."

"Dude, she didn't know it was a secret. Don't blame her."

"I didn't tell her to keep it one. I just figured she would."

"She doesn't keep anything from us, from her friends."

"So you know why she tried to…"

"Kill herself? Yes. But… I don't know. I don't really think I should be the one to tell you. It's a story for a different day, from a different person. She's really sensitive about it, and I respect that chick. She's been through shit."

"You all have."

"Damn straight we have. It's kind of the unspoken rule here. There's got to be something to make you the way you are. Family troubles is number one, second is relationships. Stevie's is both. Thank the fucking LORD that I'm only one."

"Yeah," I nod, barely thinking about the words he's saying as they hit me like a ton of bricks. Everyone here has severe problems somewhere in their life. They all have reasons. "Lucky you."

"Kacey," I say, sitting down at her table. She's sitting alone, reading some sort of magazine. "Can I ask you why you're like… that."

"Like what?" she snaps.

"Like… do you know what caused your bipolar?"

She retorts, "Bipolar doesn't tend to be caused by anything. It just happens."

"Oh," I sigh. "Well, can I ask you a somewhat personal question?"

"If you're asking me about my sex life, so help me, Zander…"

"No, no! I mean… Do you have family problems? Like Kevin and Nelson both do and I'm pretty sure Stevie does and…"

She cuts me off. "Well, doesn't everyone? No family these days are perfect."

"But… do you find yours especially horrifying?"

"I… I guess. But mostly because I hate my mom."

"Why?"

She shrugs, which makes me question the next words out of her mouth. "She's a whore."

I spit out the coffee I was drinking. "What?"

"My mother shoots up some heroin in her arm and then runs away for weeks at a time, coming home with ripped fishnets and a wad of cash."

I don't respond, trying to process the information that Kacey is giving me. Does that mean…

Kacey laughs at my confused face. "My mother is a prostitute, Zander. She roams the streets looking for desperate guys and then she bones them for money. She leaves me home alone for weeks at a time, and it's all because she got involved with all those drugs. You know that she used when pregnant with me?"

"I… I didn't."

"Yeah. She did. And she doesn't even know who my father is. She has suspicions, but no actual clue. It's whatever. I'm fine on my own."

I pity the girl in front of me. She's shrugging and acting like everything's fine, as if she's used to that from her mother, as though she expects nothing more from her. "But you're not alone, Kacey. You're here."

"Well, now I am. But I wasn't always."

"Well, you're here now. That's what matters."

"I guess so."

That's what matters for me, too. I'm here now. It doesn't matter what I've been through, what I've done, why I'm like this. All that matters is that, here and now, I'm where I am. I'm getting the help that I so desperately need.

Still, two hours later, I pace back and forth in the private room, uttering to Janet, "I don't even know why I'm here."

"You're getting the help you need, Zander."

"But why do I need help?"

"You're special."

"No. I'm not special. I'm average. I have no reason to be upset. Do you hear other stories about other kids dealing with problems far worse than mine? Nelson got raped! Kacey's mom whores around! Kevin watched his dad kill his family! I don't know what happened with Stevie, but I'm pretty sure it's way worse than what happened to me! Why am I here? Why am I depressed? Why do I complain about my life when I have nothing to complain about?"

"Zander, everyone has reasons to be upset. Nobody's life is perfect, but nobody's life is unlivable. Sure, everyone has reasons to be upset, but everyone has reasons to be happy too. It's that balance between good and evil that keeps people functioning, sane, even."

I nod, but I'm hardly listening. I stare down at my shoes. "I have nothing, no reason to be depressed."

"Well, what kind of things made you feel like life is unlivable previously?" Janet taps her clipboard. I hate that clipboard.

"I… I don't know. I guess Maria. Her devotion to Greg."

"How long have you loved Maria?"

"Since… since Greg introduced me to her. I always thought she'd be snobbish and girly, but she wasn't. She was able to sit and pass the time with us as we watched sports, shared a joint, you know?"

"Shared a joint?"

"No. Not joint. I meant… a coke? Yeah. A coke."

"It's alright if you substance abused, Zander. I won't tell your parents. As long as you do not do so again. Drugs like that lead to depression."

I look at her for a moment. I didn't substance abuse. I occasionally smoked weed with my friends. It's hardly a crime. I want so badly to say that. Instead, I mumble, "Thanks."

"Before you mentioned some names. Tell me about them."

"I mentioned names?"

"Nelson, Casey, Kevin, Steven…"

"Oh. They're my friends here."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, Nelson's my roommate. He's schizophrenic, and at first, I thought he was a little weird. He came behind me and like pulled me back. I thought I was a goner, for sure. Or maybe that he's ridiculous, you know? Crazy. But I got to know him a little better and I feel really bad for him, you know? He's actually pretty cool."

"I'm glad you got to know him. Who else?"

"I sat with Kevin, Kacey and Stevie at breakfast the first day. Kevin was really blunt and kinda mean, but I kept sitting with them because I had nowhere else to go. I'm happy I did. He's cool too. He's a little bit cruel but I mean, who isn't? He's gone through a lot. Kacey is I guess his girlfriend. They fight all the time. She was all bubbly and stuff, mostly, but sometimes she gets feisty. She doesn't like to get walked on. It's pretty interesting."

"And what about Steven? What's he like?"

"Stevie. Stevie's a girl. She's… she's great."

"Ah, I see. What does she do?"

"Well, the first day I met her, she slapped me."

"Why?"

I look down, ashamed. "I… flirted with her."

"Why'd you do that?" Janet looks at me from above her clipboard, her small glasses perched at the tip of her nose, her black pen in hand, ready to write.

"I… wanted to?"

"You said that as though it were a question. Why did you question that? Did you want to, or did you not?"

"I don't know. She's pretty and nice and seemed really deep. I mean, she was reading Catcher In The Rye, which is one of my favorite books."

"I can't help but notice that you keep saying that you don't know things. Why is that?"

"I didn't know the right answer.

"Why?"

I pursed my lips before replying. "Because the right answer isn't always right there in front of you. Sometimes you have to search for it, look around, learn things before you know it. It doesn't always come easy."

At one in the afternoon, I again catch Stevie in the rec room, hiding once more from activities.

I ate lunch, but opted to sit out from activities, complaining of a slight headache. After two [monitored] Advil and a glass of cold ice water, some nurses left to go on lunch break and others, to join activities with the other patients.

Now, I watch Stevie from the door, strumming her bass and humming notes to a new song, one I haven't heard.

"This isn't me, and I hate what we've become. / This isn't my life, and I don't know where it went wrong."

I don't say a word, simply listening from the doorway quietly, waiting for her to continue but she doesn't. Instead, she turns around.

"I knew you were here."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I felt a presence. You know? Besides my own."

I crinkle my eyebrows, not understanding her one bit. I've never "felt a presence." Not that I remember, anyway.

Stevie shrugs. "Guess it's just a borderline thing. I can feel others. Whatever. I'm glad you're here."

She's glad to see me? "Why?"

"Word on the street is that you're quite a talented singer."

I feel a blush rising up my cheeks. I've never told anyone about my singing. I never really thought it was good. Sure, as a kid, I'd put on musical productions for my family, but what kid didn't? It wasn't like I'd be a famous singer one day. I'm going to medical school to be a doctor. That's what my parents want. Well, what my dad wants. I'd do anything to keep him happy. "Who said?"

"Nelson said he heard you in the shower."

"Everyone's good in the shower."

Stevie shoots me a goofy grin. "Don't be modest."

"I mean…"

"You're amazing. Just, help me. Please."

I look at her big, sparkling eyes and can't help but agree. "Sure. Fine."

"So I have a song almost written, but, I… I need a guy's perspective. I feel like, for the song, it's about like a relationship gone wrong. And to add real depth and all that shit, I need, you know, a guy telling his side of the story."

I open my eyes widely. "That's incredible. And you thought of that yourself?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, there are two sides to every story. You can't just look at one. You need to see both sides. Like if he cheated on me… I… I mean, if the guy cheated on the girl, it's all fine and dandy to hear it from the girl, but maybe, maybe he had a reason besides just being a douche."

"Personal experience you'd like to share?"

"No. Ready?"

"Yeah."

Stevie closes her eyes and begins to sing. At that moment, it's like all her scars disappear, all her flaws and problems and everything. To me, she just looks like an angel. A beautiful, perfect angel. "If this is what you think is honest, / honestly, I think I'm going to freak out."

She looks to me, but continues strumming. It's weird listening to a bass instead of a guitar, but good-weird. Without second thought, I continue, singing, "This isn't where I wanna be, wanna be. / I think I'll let myself out."

"Show me the door, oh, 'cause I'm leaving the way I came in with the mess I made. / Tonight will be the one to set it off. / We had our nights on the town."

She must've been happy back whenever this was. Basing my response off that, I sing out, "Your eyes were smiling then."

"You left me hanging around with all your wack friends."

I remember problems with my typical dates, and call them out now, in Stevie's song. "You don't take me serious."

"Boy, you make me furious."

"Guaranteed, we'll disagree."

"I found out finding out isn't the worst part. / Don't believe it's just me. / I found out…"

For some reason, I remember her line from before, and interrupt her line, singing, "Do you really even have a clue?"

"You're not quite Satan but I really think I hate you." She stops playing and turns to look at me. "That was incredible! Thank you so much!"

"You want to keep going?"

"I… I feel it's not right to make you continue…"

I cut her off. "I want to continue. I want to help."

"…without telling you the whole story."

"Stevie, if you don't want to…"

Her bright eyes look at me, and I see tears beginning to form in them. "No. I do. Sit down."

She pats the spot beside her on the couch, which I immediately take.

"You see, I dated this guy who I went to school with. Justin. His name was Justin Cole. We dated for a while, and I felt really happy with him. Secure. I understand I have problems, that… that are hard for other people to deal with. I'm borderline. I have trouble trusting people, but I get really, really attached to people once I finally do. I tell them everything. So I told Justin everything, everything about my family problems… Damn. I guess I should confess my family problems to you…" She pauses, letting a few tears fall down her face. I have the urge to wipe them away from her face, but I resist. Using a random blanket, she wipes away her own tears.

I rest my hand on her shoulder. It feels comfortable, not awkward like it would be with anyone else. "Stevie, it's okay. I can tell this is hard for you."

"It's… it's fine. I'm… I'm not feeble. I'm not, like, some weak little girl. I can handle myself."

I don't respond. I want her to go on, to be comfortable telling me this, to move on from it. But I don't say a word. I don't want to pressure her.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I, obviously have family troubles. I… I think I'm borderline because at seven years old, I watched my parents go through the nastiest divorce ever. My… my dad's an alcoholic, but he won't go to rehab or anything because of it. He thinks he's fine. My mom kinda grew tired of him cheating on her and blowing all our money on, you know, booze. So she divorced him. Alcohol changed him though. He got so mad about it and he like, yelled and screamed and threw things at her. And at me. He's still like that. He's like, this crazy alcoholic now. And he hates me. He hates us both. I… I like to think that maybe it's not me he hates, but maybe the fact that I remind him of happiness, you know? The happiness that he used to have when he was married to my mom, the happiness that he ruined because he went out and cheated on my mom and stuff."

I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my chest. She's crying harder now, and I feel like crying myself. I've never really had it bad at all. I've had the perfect life all along.

"And my mom is really distraught over everything that happened. She's turned like, unstable. She takes all these random pills and splurges on random things and makes irrational decisions, completely spur of the moment. It's bad things, usually. Like, you know, cutting off all her hair with a bread knife or inviting all these bad people into our house. She's really snapped. And I think I'm too much for her to handle. She can't even handle herself. That's a reason why… why I tried to end everything early."

Pulling her even closer to me, I rub her arm protectively, as though it's my job to protect her.

"My parent's divorce is probably why I have attachment issues. And Justin knew all that. I told him everything. I guess because he knew it, that he used it against me."

She stops crying, looking up at me. Her expression turns from a sad one to one of anger.

"He played me. He brainwashed me into doing anything he wanted. He threatened to leave me if I didn't, and that scared me. Everyone in my life had left me. I couldn't take any chances. So I let myself be… taken advantage of. I hate myself for it."

"Stevie," I whisper softly, so she could barely hear it.

"He cheated on me, too. You'd think, because I gave him everything he wanted that he wouldn't. But he did. Tons and tons of chicks. I found out the hard way, catching him in the act. My heart broke that day, but he laughed. He told me that I should never have thought a rich, handsome guy like him would ever like a poor, crazy girl like me. He's right. I couldn't believe I fell for that."

The sound of sobs once again fills the entire room. Stevie cries into my chest, and I feel her tears through my shirt, her body shaking. It's like the tears seeping through cause me to feel her pain, and I turn her face up to my own.

"You're beautiful, Stevie. He's just an asshole."

She doesn't respond, but our eyes stay connected. The hold feels magnetic, as though I cannot turn away or else I'd be defying nature. We both begin to lean in, our lips slightly open. The distance between us closes from four inches, three inches, two, one. I move my lips to meet hers, but she turns away.

"They'll be back soon," she says, standing up and walking back to her bass. She slides it back into her case.

"I don't want them to be back."

She smiles at me, a devious smile. "Come with me."

Five minutes later, we're dressed in dark blue 'Blessed Heart Volunteer' shirts and khaki pants, running to the entrance the psychiatric ward before the nurses come back or anyone sees us.

"Come on," Stevie urges as she runs. She's one of the skinniest girls I've seen [besides the ones here with eating disorders] and far outruns me. Reaching her hand back, she pulls me after her, causing me to nearly stumble.

"Slow down," I whisper-shout, trying to control my laughter. "I can't keep up."

She pulls me through the entrance and out into the rest of the hospital.

"Follow me."

I obey her, tailing her every step.

She suddenly stops and turns around. I crash into her, and our bodies collide. She takes my hand in hers. Smiling widely at me, she inquires, "Ever wonder what it's like outside our little corner of the earth?"

"All the time." This is a slight lie. I've been in the psych ward for only two days now, and I've thought of what the rest of the hospital is like only once.

"Well, here we are."

The halls are faded white, the floor tiled blue. There are closed doors and signs everywhere. It looks just as one would expect a hospital to look. Every so often, someone in scrubs or a doctor in a suit passes, offering us a greeting, before passing by.

"I guess we fit in," I observe.

"I'm surprised. I've never fit in anywhere." Stevie touches her face, more specifically, her scar.

"You fit in here."

"Yeah," she whispers, though more to herself than to me. She closes her eyes. "I fit in here."

I take a step closer to her, grabbing her face with my hands and pulling her towards me. However, before our lips could meet, she opens her eyes and pulls away.

"I have something to show you."

Without giving me time to respond, Stevie pulls my hand along with her and starts to run. After almost knocking into a doctor, two nurses, a surgeon, and a man on crutches, she yanks me into the stairwell.

"This is… nice."

"Come on, you freak," she calls to me, already running up the stairs. "You're going to get lost without me."

I race after her. We must have scaled about fifteen flights of stairs before finally, she stops and walks to the side. Checking her surroundings and seeing no one, she turns to me, locks eyes and says, "Hurry! In here!"

I comply with her demands hesitantly. I'm slightly afraid of what could be up here. I've only known her for two days, and she's slapped me several times. Who's to say she doesn't want me dead?

Didn't I want myself dead not too long ago?

Stevie shoves me through the door, and then follows me herself. "Isn't it beautiful?"

I open my eyes tentatively and find myself on top of the hospital, looking down at the city in front of me.

"It's… it's amazing."

She comes beside me and wraps my arm around her. "I know."

"How did you find it?"

"I used to volunteer here, you know, before all my problems. Well, before I ended up here. I've always had problems."

I don't respond, but I look down at her and kiss the top of her head.

"I've never shown this to anyone."

"I'm glad you've showed me."

"I hope I won't regret it."

"You won't."

She looks up at me, her eyes fluttering a little. In this light, her face is illuminated in that her skin looks flawless, not a single imperfection. Although she always looks that way to me. Her perfect lips utter, "You can kiss me now."

So I do. I close the distance between us. Her soft, warm lips collide with my own and move together perfectly, as though they're meant to be there, together, forever.

It feels like an hour, but she pulls away, and turns back to the landscape of the busy city in front of us. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I've wanted to do that since I've met you." I just never thought you'd ever let me, let alone tell me to.

"We… we should get back."

She begins to walk, and I follow. After all, I'm too stunned to say anything else.

I kissed a girl and I liked it.

It's about five o'clock when I remember – the phone. I need to use the phone. Walking over to the public phone, I pass the cafeteria and glance inside. The brown-haired Perf sits inside the empty room, completely and totally alone, the only noise being her scraping her plate with a fork, shoveling food into her mouth. It's almost disgusting, but I can't tear myself away. She doesn't stop, continuing eating certainly past what an average person would eat. Finally, I turn away and walk. I hope she didn't catch me staring. .

Grabbing the available phone, I punch in Greg's phone number.

He answers on four rings. I can tell already that he's higher than anything.

"Yo yo yo!"

"Greg, it's Zander."

"Hey, my man. Where have ya been? I texted a bunch and called a fuck load. Shit, I'm high. Woo. Dude, I fucking went to your house but your mom said you're staying with the old geezer in Maine!"

Leave it to my mom to give a totally fake excuse. "Yeah. Sorry, he took my phone. He doesn't like when I … text."

"Ah, got it. Hey, Maria's here too. She wants to talk. That cool?"

I think about Stevie, but agree anyway.

"Zander!" she squeals. She's high too, but only slightly. She never really smokes too much. She just smokes enough that it seems like she's having a good time even when she's not.

Maybe because she doesn't really like Greg all that much…

"Hey… Maria."

"I'd love to come visit you."

"You can't. I'm in Ma…"

"Don't lie to me," she says, laughing. Then she lowers her volume to just above a whisper. "Greg may be stupid enough to believe that, but I know where you really are."

"Wh… where may that be?" I ask nervously. But she can't actually know. How would she know? My mom covered it…

"Your little brother told me when I came to see you."

I take a deep breath and swallow.

Wait, she came to visit me?

"What the fuck made your life so unlivable that you tried to kill yourself?"

"I… I don't know."

"So you're in the psych ward at fucking Blessed Heart. Damn, your life is fucking crazy jacked up. Now, tell me: how many crazies are around you?"

"N… none. They're all really, really cool."

She laughs, but it sounds more like a wicked cackle. "I bet there's like, some crazy schizophrenic there who always talks about fairies and shit like that. Do you have a love interest? Is it some slutty borderline chick? More than one? They'll give it up to anyone who calls them pretty and says they'll never leave their side. What hoes."

I'm infuriated now, but Maria keeps laughing. Instead of finding beauty in her laugh, I think of it more as evil.

"That's not true at all, Maria. Everyone here is really nice and accepting of…"

"Crazy people. Crazy people like them. But you're not crazy, Zander. You're not one of those people that get laughed at. You're not pathetic. Jesus! You're hot! People like you, people want you. Those freaks… they're nothing. I can't fucking wait for you to get out. You can come over and, you know, we could…"

Her words trail off and I think of what we could do, because, hey, I'm a teenage boy and I have hormones and stuff.

But I snap out of it just a moment later.

I clench my teeth when admitting, "I have four days minimum. Two to go."

I can feel her smile through the phone. "Greg wants me to hang up now. Don't tell him what I said. We'll both get in trouble." Added in like an afterthought, she whispers, "Then again, a nice spanking has never hurt anybody."

I groan, fighting how I feel with what I know is right. "Whatever. Bye Maria."

"See you soon, Zander." She cackles again.

I hang up the phone feeling exasperated and completely turned on.

I really hope you guys liked this! It means so much when you do! Tell me what you think / what you think will happen next!

Review and favorite if you want to make me happy!

I had the worst day today [literally, it was AWFUL!] I'd explain it but it's kind of hard to explain and well, let's just say I think you guys are the only ones who can make me feel better. If you want. Which I hope you want.

Gosh, I love you guys! (: Until next time?

MWAH!

xoxoxo aworldwellneverfind xoxoxo