A/N: Thanks for all the input! I'm glad you think it's good, and I'll try to update more often. With school and life in general I may not be able to, but I think it'll be good for me to keep writing this.

Anyway, I need to fix up chapter 2; there's a lot of things I don't like about it. Buster addresses some of them here, but one day when I get the time and motivation I'll just edit all of these. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!

Spoiler alert: I'm graduating from High School today. It still shocks me that I'm alive, that I made it through. I battled the beast and I won. I guess that's what I'm trying to get across, that it is possible. Even the most massive monster, even the darkest days can be defeated. You just have to find their weakness.

Eighth grade was hard year for me. No, hard is the wrong word. Confusing. Emotional. Insane. Chaotic. Crazy. Unstable. Happy. Sad. Depressing. Uplifting. Romantic. They're all strong words, but not strong enough to describe the spark that went off in my head that year.

We were supposed to be on top of the heap. That's what everyone was saying, that's what the buzz was, as we walked into the cafeteria that first day of school. There was no wandering aimlessly, trying to find our classes. There would be new teachers, books, lockers- but all of that would come later. None of it mattered just yet, all we needed was each other, finally back from summer camps, vacations, and all other things that had kept us apart during the warm summer months.

I had been eating normally off and on- what I said before may have been a bit exaggerated- I would go a day with out eating, maybe, skip a meal here or there because I was upset. It was nothing huge, no two-week fasts, and I hadn't started to count calories, or stare obsessively into the mirror. All of that, would come later. After school started, I ate pretty normally. I forgot about talking to my camera for a while too. I 'forgot' - AKA, pushed to the deepest corner of my mind and tried to never think about- what happened with George.

I met up with Arthur at our table. It had been our table since we were sixth graders. Back of the room, close to the vending machines, and the lunch line. I had friends in high places, and was always well-liked, so I didn't lose any of that status when I went to Junior High.

We had long gotten past the age of hugs, but after being so long gone, it seemed like we had to do something. So I reached out to shake his hand, slipped out of his grip and wiggled my fingers behind his hand, in the way our secret handshake from so many years ago had began. Arthur just stared at me.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, his voice accusatory without meaning it to be. I know he didn't mean to make fun of me, but it hurt. So a little sheepishly, I slid in next to him.

"Nothing; never mind. How was your vacation?" I glanced around at everyone else sitting at the table. A couple boys, one with red hair the other blond, that I recognized but could not remember the names of, Muffy, and Francine. I pinched myself, hard, when I found myself longing to talk to George, and focused on what Arthur was saying.

"D.W.' wanted to build one of those sandcastles, like we did when we were, what, five? But I told her we were too old for that now. She's in fourth grade this year, I'm in eighth. We're way too old for those baby games." Arthur's tone was something I didn't quite recognize, but would hear a lot of in those coming months- it contained an air of superiority, that apparently went along with being twelve. "Anyway, what did you do all summer?"

"I got back from my trip, and then I went to summer school." I didn't mean to say it so blandly, but it really was what I did. I had two options when my dad pulled me out of school for half a year- I could either take my schoolwork with me, or I could go to summer school when I got back. Summer school seemed like a good option back then, but when it took up all of my free 'friend' time, I wasn't so excited.

"Oh, right." Arthur said, then quickly turned to Muffy, to change the subject. "So, Mary, how're things with you and Jeff?"

"Who's Jeff? And who's "Mary"?" I asked, with a laugh. It was supposed to be humorous, but all I got was a glare.

"I'm Mary," Muffy said. "And Jeff is my boyfriend. Where you at, Buster?"

"She's been going by Mary since last year- didn't you get the e-mail?" Arthur asked, just as critical.

I shrunk down a bit, my confidence lacking. "No," I said, sheepishly, and yawned to hide it. "Must've missed it."

"Well, anyway, they're great." Muffy- Mary continued, ignoring the change in my posture, if they noticed it at all. "I thought dating a Sophomore would be hard, but it's totally not. He's so hot too, and a great kisser. I can't believe how good he is with his tongue."

"Eww, Mu-Mary, too much info!" I said, cringing in over dramatized disgust. Another joke, that before everyone would have laughed at. But again, I got glares of disapproval.

"C'mon, Buster. Stop being such a kid." Francine said, and nudged Muffy's arm. Mary's arm. Whatever. "Go on- What else have you two done?" Her eyes lit up with what was supposed to be juicy gossip. The full feeling in my stomach made me feel doubly uncomfortable sitting through this. I started to stand up, as she talked about blow jobs, and started handing out tips that made Arthur holler in approval.

"Where are you going, Baxter?" Arthur asked, and I smirked at the more recent joke of us using our last names rather then firsts.

"I gotta hit up my locker, Read." I slung my heavy backpack over my shoulder. "I'll see you in class."

I had no reason to go to my locker. Everything I need had been placed delicately in my bag the night before, per my mother's usual request. She liked to know I was all ready and nothing was out of place, even if it did mean her rule was a bit strict.

So I lied to my best friend, that day. It might have been small, but it was the first of many, that would lead to my downfall.

Leaving the table that day changed the course of history- if you want to be dramatic about it.

I was walking in the general direction of my locker/junk pit, but it was more of an aimless walk to kill time. The bell was going to ring in a couple minutes- it had too. I just needed to wait for that.

The halls were pretty empty, but a couple kids were scattered about, sitting in various places with friends. When I got to my locker hallway, I was surprised to see it virtually empty- except for one person.

George was standing, head bent down, at the locker about five down from mine. Oh god, I thought to myself. This can't be happening. Why did his locker have to be there, of all places.

I could run away. I could run, and I could find my first class, and I could hang out in there until the bell rang. I could avoid my locker, just carry everything, everywhere. I could switch lockers with someone else, Arthur, maybe.

But I couldn't just avoid confrontation all my life. With faint nausea, and a full stomach, I went up to George.

"Hey," I said, and the boy looked up, frightened until he saw my face.

"Hey," He said back, and finished opening his locker. He knelt down, and started to shove books in.

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. I had nothing to say.

No, that was wrong.

I had dozens of things I wanted to say, things I wanted to ask. But I was too afraid, too weirded out by everything that had happened.

I sighed, and slumped against the wall. "Is it always going to be weird like this?" I asked, melodramatically.

"I hope not," George said, and we both laughed.

"You doing anything after school?" I asked, sliding down against the locker and tucking my knees to my chest.

George shook his head. "Not that I know of." He said, zippering up his now full backpack.

"Want to come to my place? So we can, I dunno, talk? Clear things up?" Cuddle. I wanted to beat myself up for that last thought. At least if I had though about sex or something I wasn't such a fag. If I just wanted to 'cuddle', I was huge faggot. Messed up thinking, looking back on it.

"Sure." George said, and we sat there together in an awkward silence for a moment. I thought he wanted to kiss me, gently, like couples do. But it didn't seem right, with us. With what we were. I think he got that too, and he just stood up, and walked away.

Then I was there, alone in the hallway, knees tucked to my chest, waiting for the bell to ring.