A/N: This chapter is named after 'I exist, I exist, I exist' by Flatsound.


Thump, clack, thump, clack, squeak...

The heels of Cam's damp sneakers wouldn't shut up, and the boy was about ready to walk around the school in his ragged, holey, socks. Rain had never been something he was ever fond of, well, there had been a time where he could at least stand that sort of weather, but Justin had always loved rainy days. He always came home smelling like a drenched pig, and Cam would yell at him to change his clothes, his mother would force him to down an entire can of soup just in case he caught a cold from practicing outside when it was like that...

His shoes found their way into a nearby trash can; he had tossed them angrily into the black bag, hoping to rid himself of any type of memoir of Justin. Detention for refusing to wear his shoes? His mother would only laugh at that one; he could've done worse with the pair.

Campbell entered the lunchroom, not entirely sure why he was here. He typically never ate the school's lunch. Cam continued to search for a place to sit; he had finally been able to pick one out towards the back, but was interrupted by another boy.

"Hey, kid with no shoes!"

The boy that had called him had been at a fairly close table, so Cam saw no harm in wandering over there. As he stepped closer, he saw a pretentious look on Zig Novak's face. His friends that surrounded him seemed to be chuckling awfully hard at the not-so-offensive comment Zig had just made about him. The other motioned for him to sit down, and Cam obeyed, an obviously puzzled look on his facial features.

"You're the guy in Frankie's therapy group, right?" Zig asked, and Campbell could only simply nod his head. He remembered the other teen; he had been the one he assumed to be Frankie's boyfriend. It would've made sense, anyway, the way he looked at the younger girl. He had been gazing at her like she was a large, expensive diamond-maybe something even better than that. "What? Does the shrink take up so much of your parents' money that you can't afford shoes?"

Cam forced a laugh at his attempt of a joke, trying not to appear offended by it in the slightest. If it hadn't made him feel like a freak; an outcast, maybe he would have found the comment a little amusing. Of course, Zig's friends all seemed entertained by it, considering another roar of laughter erupted at the small table. The boy reminded him a lot of himself from a few years prior, due to the fact Cam used to try overly hard to be accepted by the clique he obtained a desire to be. He took this into his analysis as he tried to uncover a few adjectives to describe Zig Novak this far into their conversation.

"You don't talk much, do ya? Frankie says how you guys talk all the time on FaceRange. Isn't she great?" Zig paused for a moment. "And no, that isn't sarcasm-she's really amazing. She's able to see the positive in any situation. I love it." He was beaming at this point, and one of the tenth graders next to Zig smacked him in the shoulder.

"What?" Zig exclaimed quickly, turning his attention in that direction and completely away from Cam. "It's not my fault she's practically perfect. I wish everybody was like her-even you guys." This caused another collection of laughter from the boys around, which Campbell didn't get. He had just insulted them, so why did they find it hysterical? What Zig had just mentioned about Frankie was entirely correct, though. He could recall every single FaceRange chat they had from the few days they had been talking nonstop, and even when she was complaining about something, she always seemed to be able to find the good in it. Cam wasn't like this at all, and he wished he could be. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from the younger one; he could see why Zig was infatuated with her. Frankie Hollingsworth was a person to admire.

Thank God it was Wednesday, so he'd have an excuse to talk to the girl in person tomorrow.


It wasn't difficult to catch up to Frankie after their session was over, especially since it was another week that Zig wasn't there to walk her home-or at least that's what Cam assumed the two did; he wasn't positive on what activity they ended up doing. This time, the whole greeting hadn't been completely spontaneous, considering he had been talking to her constantly for a week now. He was beginning to be able to call Frankie one of his acquaintances, or maybe even a friend; Cam wasn't sure just yet. "Let's hang out-today." The boy announced abruptly, causing Frankie to giggle.

"Aren't you going to ask me instead of just demanding?" Her eyebrows rose a little as she questioned his motives.

"Oh, right.. Sorry." Cam felt stupid, but continued on anyways. "Do you want to hang out with me?"

Frankie simply smiled, gripping onto his arm and beginning to pull the boy with her. "I have the perfect idea." She told him, not making another noise until they reached the current destination she had set out for the pair.


Each teens' legs were settled into the grass below them, having no choice but to either look at one another or the trees rising above them. Frankie's idea had been sitting in the woods that were located on the outskirts of Toronto. It had been a fairly long walk, but neither of the two had seemed to mind the agonizing process. They had both certainly been through worse, so a little exercise wasn't going to cause any sort of damage-plus, it was nothing compared to the drills Cam had to complete for hockey.

"Have you ever gotten high before?" Frankie was the first one to speak, and the boy was immediately shocked by the question. It took him a second to realize what she was asking, and even when it had finally gotten to his head, he didn't know how to respond.

"Yeah! Tons of times." It wasn't difficult for Cam to lie these days; he was practically a professional at the sport. He hadn't even tried any drug once or consumed a drop of alcohol-he tended to keep away from things that would increase his chances of being kicked off of the Ice Hounds.

"Great! I mean, I was thinking that we could do that. If you're okay with it."

Cam wanted to be hesitant to agree; he didn't want to give into the peer pressure of an irresistible girl. He had always told himself he would never attempt any of this stuff, but his morals didn't seem sufficient enough to halt him from taking the joint Frankie placed into his palm. Haphazard drug tests were apart of the hockey team, and all Cam could hope was that one wouldn't randomly be planned in the next couple of days. He wasn't aware of how long marijuana would stay in your system, but as long as they didn't have to take one in that span of time, he should be okay. How bad was pot, really? He had heard about the effects of consuming the drug, and none of them seemed to be ridiculously horrific. If a sweet, innocent girl like Frankie Hollingsworth was into smoking, then why shouldn't Campbell try it at least one time?

As he brought the blunt to his lips after the object being lit, he inhaled the contents. He was only able to keep the smoke in between his cheeks before desperately coughing, trying to quickly fill his lungs up with air again. He hadn't expected it to be impossibly arduous and was taken by surprise of the difficulty. His goal was to not come off as total newbie, though, so he quickly took another hit; the same thing happened this time. It continued to occur each time, and the boy was far too embarrassed to glance at Frankie's face. He'd never be as cool as her.

Frankie observed as Cam continuously took one hit after another, completely oblivious to the fact that this was his first time. She hadn't even made the connection from how awful he was at it, and even if she had, she wouldn't have been rude and pointed it out. Reaching over and snatching the joint out of the boy's hand, she grinned cunningly at the other teen due to his worried expression. "Are you going to save any for me or what?" She copied Campbell's actions shortly after that, but they she did it seemed more natural; it was as if she had been smoking for years. When in reality, Frankie had only picked up the habit a few weeks into high school.

They took turns passing the joint back and forth, while Cam persisted in his coughing and Frankie was able to hold in the smoke from the stick longer. The adolescents exchanged incoherent and plain sentences as this sustained, not being able to detect the true meaning behind their own words. Everything seemed peaceful and unperturbed; neither of them had any worries. This was a feeling Cam could get used to, but this wasn't routine he wanted to develop. He didn't have anything against the girl for using weed to ease her problems (the problems he wasn't fully clued into, but he didn't want to intimidate her to tell, considering he doubted the reason why he attended the therapy sessions would ever leave his thoughts), but it just wasn't something he could pick up due to hockey.

"How are you so positive?" Campbell knew what he was asking, but he currently didn't care; his filter had wasted away entirely.

Frankie laughed lightly, a smile still present on her lips. "What do you mean?" She questioned, not sure on what the boy meant from his inquiry.

"You know.. You're in therapy for a reason. Why are you always so damn happy? I don't get it." He couldn't help but laugh as well, not knowing what was funny exactly.

Frankie leaned in closer, the odor of weed lingering on her clothes. Cam was almost certain that his own attire smelt a similar way.

"Bad things happen, you just have to move onnnn." The niner giggled as she drew out the last syllable, scooting her body even nearer. "See good things in the world. Like sunshine, flowers, junk food, love.." Their noses were practically touching, and Campbell could feel himself growing uncomfortable with the closeness. "And the pot helps." She added, refusing to move away although her vague response had been finished moment earlier.

"Pot.." Cam repeated, stressing the 'P' sound as he spoke. He broke out in a fit of laughter again, feeling much more nonchalant than he had been minutes before. He had been freaking out over if Frankie would find him an appealing person or not, but right now, the boy wasn't concerned on how she thought of him.

Frankie joined in on the laughter, but the noises of hysteria soon died down, turning into a pleasant silence. The two stared at each other, looking over each other's brown eyes. Cam liked how they both had the same color; it was a matching trait they could compare.

"I like your eyes." The girl complimented, finding the humor in her statement at the same time Campbell had. Another corresponding amount of giggles erupted before slowly stopping. Cam tried to think of some sort of reply, but he could only come up with a simple comment instead of thanking her for the kind words.

"I've always wanted blue eyes." He paused before allowing a genuine, lighthearted smile on his face. "Justin had blue eyes. I was always jealous." Cam decided to continue, considering in that moment he didn't care. "Justin's my brother."

Frankie was too stoned to take note of the past tense the boy had been using, so she returned the smile as he spoke. "Can I meet him?"

Cam swiftly shook his head, not even a hint of emotion showing in his face. "He's dead." He observed as Frankie's expression turned into a sympathetic look, and when she opened her mouth to speak, Campbell decided right then and there that he didn't want to hear it. He closed in on the girl, forcing his lips against hers so she wouldn't be able to speak. His arms wrapped around her waist as his fingers gripped the piece of fabric that was covering her petite body. Even at this point, Frankie hadn't found the strength to return the kiss. She was still confused as to what this meant, due to the fact the two hadn't exchanged more than a couple words other than today. Gradually, she began to move her lips against his, not finding this feeling unknown. Although, she had only kissed one other boy in her fifteen years, so it was satisfying to explore another's mouth. He tasted like, to be completely candid, smoke. It was a flavor Frankie was used to, and it wasn't like she could fully judge Cam for the tang, since the inbetween of her lips were most likely the same.

Tongues pushed passed clenched mouths, inspecting the new territory they had both been granted with. Their noses had finally brushed against one another and Frankie's arms were placed perfectly around his neck.

They both moved back at the same time to breathe, gasping distraughtly for oxygen. They stayed in each other's embrace, feeling completely cozy and too sluggish to untangle themselves.

"Were you guys close?" Frankie questioned once her breathing was back to normal and she was able to speak.

All Cam could do was shrug his shoulders, not having any desire to answer her short interrogation. The girl immediately took this as a no, and decided the topic wasn't worth talking about anymore.

That was far from the truth, though.


Campbell and Frankie exited the patch of trees, keeping their hands connected. They both found a sort of warmth from each other and it shielded them from the mid-November breeze that neither of them enjoyed. Once they were standing on some type of pavement, Frankie forced Cam to stop walking, turning to face the boy. She rummaged around in her coat pocket for a writing utensil, finding the pink marker she used to mark dates on her calendar. (And this day, November 15th, was certainly getting scribbled in.) Before he could do anything, her fingers on the opposite hand were fiddling with his sleeve, forcing the sweatshirt up his arm. When his bare arm was exposed and flipped over, Frankie noticed red scratches and light scars all over his skin. All the girl did was inhale lightly, not commenting on the sight she had just witnessed. Everybody had their ways to cope, and her way was drugs-Cam had taken a completely different route.

She took her marker, sprawling her cell phone number across his palm rather than his wrist, and then quickly moving his sleeve back down so he wouldn't have to move a single muscle. Frankie smiled at him weakly before taking a few steps away. "FaceRange is totally lame." She explained, ignoring what had happened only seconds before. "Text me-or call, if you're into that old fashioned thing." She added before turning her back towards the boy, and then hurrying off home.

Only seconds after she was out of Cam's vision, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She briskly grabbed the object, reading the message she had recently received.

'Thanks for not being scared.'