Authors Note: Since it seemed to confuse some people, Ari is NOT Gazzy. They probably seem physically similiar, but they're not.

Chapter Four

- Impressions -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The insistent ringing in my ears reached a crescendo, forcing me out of the last dregs of sleep. I groggily blinked my eyes open, rubbing my face with my hand before rolling over and slapping my palm across the alarm clock, hitting snooze and effectively ending its constant chatter. In blocky, bold red letters it spelled out six o'clock AM.

Damn it.

I turned my back to it, curling up into a ball under the covers. My eyes fluttered shut once more, as if going back to sleep would solve all my problems. I was just about to drift off once more when the smell hit my nostrils full force.

Bacon.

I was out of my bed and tumbling across the floor in record time. I reached the door and flung it open, thundering down the steps at such a speed you'd think my life depended on it. I skidded to a halt in the kitchen, sliding a few feet on the linoleum. I whipped my head back and forth, searching for the source of that most delicious and tantalizing scent.

"Good morning Max," Mom said brightly, laughing at my harried expression.

My sight zoned in on her, spatula in hand as she stood before the stove. She had just poured a good amount of pancake batter into a pan, and right beside her, on a paper towel covered plate was the bacon.

I began moving forward as if in a trance, my hand reaching out before me as I got closer to the meat I was going too slow though. The smell was enveloping me in a heavenly manner, but my feet weren't carrying me forwards fast enough. I ended up running the last few steps, taking extra long strides.

"Be careful it's-" Mom began to warn me.

I snatched up a piece of bacon, shoving it into my mouth with evident delight. Its taste flooded my mouth . . . along with the scalding sensation on my tongue. I spit the half chewed meat into the trash, waving my hands in front of my face as if that would cool my burning mouth off.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I exclaimed, hurrying to the sink and glugging down some water straight from the tap.

"-hot," my mother finished, rolling her eyes.

I smiled sheepishly, biting my lip in embarrassment.

"Whoops?" I said, though it came out sounding more like a question.

"I tried to warn you," she reminded me, turning back to the stove and expertly tossing the pancake into the air. It flipped a couple times before smashing into the pan with a loud 'thwack'.

"Yeah, yeah, and since when do I ever listen?" I replied teasingly, going to stand at her side.

"I noticed that, actually," she said.

It was this kind of effortless banter that usually filled the empy spaces of our house. The laughter and the shared smiles was what made living with my family so incredibly bearable.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" I asked, motioning to the bacon and the box of quick mix pancake batter. I was pretty sure we had came without the slighest bit of food, besides the snacks that had been for the long car ride.

"There's a grocery right down the street. I ran over real quick and bought a few things earlier this morning," she explained, tossing the now golden pancake onto a plate and pouring more batter into the pan for another round.

"Mom, it's only six right now! How early did you get up?" I inquired quizzically, wondering not for the first time how she managed to do such extraoridinary things while looking so upbeat.

"Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really tired anyway. How could I be? It's my babies first day of school," she said all mushy like, squeezing my cheek like all the old great aunts do in the movies.

I swatted her hand away playfully, sidestepping out of her reach.

"I'm not in kindergarten, Mom."

"You're right, you're not. My little girl is in high school, now."

"A Sophmore to be exact," I said smartly, smiling cheekily.

"All right wise gal, how about going and getting ready for your big day?"

It took all of my impressive sense of control not to vomit all over my feet at the very sickening thought of starting my Sophmore year about a month into the first semester at an entirely new school where I wouldn't know a single soul.

"I think I'll just wait until I eat fir-" I began to say.

"No! Go get ready, and then when you're done you can eat this most imperial breakfast I have prepared for you, understand?" She insisted, raising an eyebrow at my glowering expression.

"Fine," I grumbled. "In that case I'll be back in about two seconds."

I sulked towards the door, but Mom's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Max, it's your first day. First day's are all about impressions. You need to look nice," she commanded, her hands on her hips.

Ooh, scary.

"Whose definition of nice? Mine . . . or yours?"

She sighed, giving me a look before going on to say, "How about we meet in the middle?"

I nodded in agreement. "What are the terms?"

"You can wear jeans, but they have to be nice jeans. No holey, torn to pieces pants. There shouldn't be any rips in them unless they were meant to be there," she replied, setting the base for my outfit requirments.

"I can live with that," I said agreeably. "What about shirts?"

"No oversize, dirty t-shirts. Wear one of those nice name brand ones I always buy for you. I'm sure you can find one that still has a tag that will do just fine for your first day."

She was pushing it . . . but finally, with a heaving sigh, I agreed to that as well.

"As for shoes-" she began to say, but I cut her off.

"Oh, no! There is no way on Heaven or Earth I'm not going to be wearing my converse!" I insisted, crossing my arms across my chest defiantly.

She mulled this over for a moment, finally conceeding with a short, "Fine."

First day . . . here I come.

- }{ -

I stared gloomily out of the window, examining the throng of students milling about the front steps. Mom's car sat idled at the curb, and I knew she was waiting for me to pick up my bag and leave . . . but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet at least. I still needed time. I needed to take a few more deep breaths to prepare myself for the onslaught that was sure to come.

"Max, honey . . . It's time to go, or else you're going to be late," Mom said to me softly, putting what was, I assumed, meant to be a comforting hand on my shoulder. The action didn't really register in that way to me.

Ever so slowly I nodded, taking a few more seconds to gather what little bearings I had left.

I turned to face Mom, and I almost cringed at the barely perceptible tears in her eyes. If she cried . . . I don't even know what I would do. All this bottled up emotion I was keeping inside was bound to crash through my own flood gates, and now wouldn't that be quite the spectacle for my first day?

Not.

"Oh . . ." Mom whispered, looking slightly crushed and very worried. "Maybe you were right. Maybe you two weren't ready for this. I know we already dropped Ella off but . . . maybe we all need some more time to settle in."

"Yes!" I exclaimed, smiling for the first time since I climbed into the car that was leading me to my eventual death. "How about we go home right now? It wouldn't be too much trouble at all."

She gave me a small, sad smile.

"No . . . no, you have to do this. It's now or never sweetie. If you don't get it over with now, you'll never do it."

"That sounds like a good plan to me," I muttered crossly under my breath.

She gave a little laugh, smiling good naturedly before going on to ask; "Do you want me to come in with you? Would that make things easier?"

I gave her a look that suggested I thought she was incredibly and irrevocably insane. Yeah, sure. Walking into my first day at a new school with my mommy holding my hand wasn't total social suicide. Right.

"I think I'll pass," I replied in disbelief.

She chuckled loudly at my expression, giving my knee a pat.

I tried to think of something, anything, I could use to stall. Now I understood a little better why Ari had tried so hard to make conversation just so he could delay going home. I was in the same frantic situation.

Mom knew me too well though, and she could plainly see the gears in my mind shifting.

"There's no time left for talk, Max. It's time to get a move on."

"Bu-" I began.

"What are you so afraid of?" she asked softly.

"Me? Afraid? Oh please! I am not, under any circumstances afraid," I insisted heatedly.

"Then what's the problem? . . . What's stopping you from squaring your shoulders like the strong girl I know you are would, and facing the challenge head on? This is just another one of the many obstacles your going to have to face in life. There isn't a doubt in my mind you can't overcome every single one of them, too. You're a fighter, Max. You always have been and you always will be. You have such strength. Sometimes I don't understand where you get it from," Mom said, getting a far away look in her eyes.

"I get it from you," I murmured.

That seemed to pull her back down to Earth.

"Oh nonsense. I'm just a vet who can't seem to keep a man!" she replied jokingly.

I shuddered. "Please, let's not get into that!"

She laughed, throwing her head back. When she looked down at me again her chocolate brown eyes that were so similiar to mine were sparkling unlike anything I had ever seen before. After she had studied my face for a few more moments her expression turned solemn.

I sighed. "Let me guess, I really have to go now?"

"Everything will be fine, Max, trust me honey. It won't be what you think, I promise."

"Yeah, it could be a whole lot worse," I muttered, slinging my arm through the strap on my book bag.

"Or better. You never know . . . just try to keep a positive attitude. Going about things all sullenly won't help at all." No matter how good of advice that may be, I didn't have the heart to commit it to memory. Today was going to be torture no matter how I looked at it.

"I'll see you after school, Mom," I said glumly, my hand hovering over the door handle. I knew then that I was as prepared as I'll ever be.

"Have a good day," Mom said meaningfully.

I rolled my eyes at her before finally pressing down on the handle. The car door creaked open and I swung my leg out, scooting to the edge of the seat. I ducked out before coming to stand at the curb, glancing around instinctively. I slammed the door shut, giving Mom a final wave.

I watched as she switched the car into gear. Carefully she manuvered her way out into the steady steam of cars escelating past the school. My breath hitched in my throat when she turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

This was it.

Slowly I turned, gazing around, trying not to look lost. All around me long time friends rushed to each other, shouting out happy greetings and sharing friendly hugs. I didn't have that. There wasn't a single familiar face in the sea of students.

I was alone.

Here in this city I didn't have any friends. Not unless you counted the sister I grew up with . . . or the nine year old I met just last night. Wow, I sure was doing a good job, wasn't I? I'm sure with all the progress I had made, I would fit in in no time at all!

The sarcasm from that statement was practically oozing.

Slowly I walked forwards, dodging this way and that between the close packed bodies. For the most part the teenagers ignored me. There were some though, that trained me with their sight in interest. A few brave souls even met my eyes for a few seconds, while the other more cowardly people dropped their gazes as soon as I caught them looking.

Finally I managed to cross the front lawn type area the school had going for them. I ascended the steps with quickening speed. Anything to get away from all these prying eyes. The claustrophobia was creeping in, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The air was becoming stuffy, and I knew that if I didn't get away soon, the dizzyness would kick in as well. I didn't exactly want to collapse before the day had even started.

A last, lingering thought infiltrated my mind as I pushed my way through the heavy double doors and into the cool enclosure of the hall.

I hated this place.

Authors Note: I know the filler-ish chapters are probably getting on your nerves, but she'll be meeting people soon, and it'll pick up. Review?