AN: *AN is pretty much me whining, so feel free to skip* So, in your family, everyone has their designated spots, right? Like, my brother Kevin's the smart one. And Sean's the popular one. And my little sister Kate's the sporty one. And I'm the pretty one. I'm not trying to be vain - I'm just that girl. I try so hard. All the time. And you know what? It's exhausting. But I do it and it's worth it and I love being that girl. I like that no matter how fucked up I feel, no one would ever be able to tell. Not by looking. Then my sister starts throwing on halfway decent clothes and brushing her hair every other week, and people won't stop about who good she looks in that jacket I got her for Christmas. And I'll say something even hinting about how I feel, they go, "It's not a contest." But it is. And I feel like some people get some cheat sheet, telling them what to do, and the rest... don't. And it's not fair.

Sorry. Here's the story.

Five years ago. Charlie is fifteen. Bass is forty.

Charlie dejectedly poked the ground with a stick, sitting on a swing. Almost the exact same position that she used to wait for her dad in. Drawing patterns in the dirt, she thought about the last time she'd seen him. She was five, and someone had been with him. Who was that? Charlie thought his name started with a B, but who knew? Ha had been nice though. Treated her like a real person and all.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Head snapping up, she turned to face the speaker. He was a handsome dark haired boy, with innocent brown eyes and a not so innocent smirk. He wore tight turquoise jeans and a tight black T-shirt with white and sliver high tops. His blue and black blazer had a fancy crest on the pocket. Everything about him screamed, "I'm here, I'm queer, get the fuck used to it, bitches."

Turning away again, she drawled, "Sorry. I only accept hundred dollar bills."

He shrugged. "That's fair. What's your name? I'm Connor."

Connor sat down beside her and she looked at him. "Did I say you could sit here?"

"Did I say you could be such a bitch?"

Concealing her first genuine smile in a long time, she replied, "That's fair. I'm Ch-Christina." She caught herself just in time. Knowing she would never remember the fake name, she added, "but most people call me Charlie."

"And what's wrong enough to bring you here?"

"Too many people tried to act as my fucking therapist."

Connor raised his hands in defense. "Just wondering. Here, I'll even go first. I'm avoiding my mom. I just got suspended from the fancy private school she sent me to."

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing dramatic. Skipped a few too many classes. You?"

"Graduated from my fancy private school - three years early - and mom neither noticed nor cared."

Connor stared at her. "You win," then he did a double take. "Wait, three years early? You're only sixteen?"

"Fifteen, actually. My birthday's in a few weeks."

"Wow. You could go anywhere. Why here?"

"Looking for my dad. He used to live here, but not anymore, I guess." Charlie wasn't sure why she was telling him everything. Loneliness, maybe.

"Where are you staying?"

She shrugged. "I guess I'll find a hotel."

"Seems to me you're doing a lot of guessing, kid. Jasper isn't exactly a tourist destination. The closest hotel is probably about an hour from here."

Charlie groaned. She did not want to drive god knows how long to rent a hotel she couldn't afford. The money she took from her account would only last so long. Connor seemed to sense her reluctance. "Tell you what. You come and stay at my place tonight. Tomorrow, do what you want."

Charlie eyed him. "Hmm... This whole gay thing isn't an act to lure me in then rape and kill me, is it?"

"No. Although I do have ulterior motives."

"Such as?"

"If you're there mom won't yell at me."

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Connor's house was about half of the size of hers (so the house of someone who wasn't a millionaire) and cosy. Three little green stairs and a wood porch lead up to the house itself, which was painted a cheerful yellow.

As they reached the door, Connor turned to Charlie and asked seriously, "You'll come to my funeral, right?"

She grinned. "Only if there's cake."

"Brat," he muttered as he walked through the door with the demeanor of a man on his way to the firing squad.

"CONNOR SEBASTIAN BENNETT! WHAT the hell were you THINKING?!"

A pretty brunette in her forties flew into the room. "Do you have any IDEA how much trouble you've caused?! I SWEAR I really will kill you one of these days! Do you - oh. Hello," she finished calmly, noticing Charlie.

Slightly off balance by her rapid mood swing, Charlie responded uncertainly, "Hi."

"I'm Emma, Connors mom. And you are?"

"I'm his friend, Charlie. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Bennett."

"Oh, definitely call me Emma. Ms. Bennett sounds beyond old. And makes me feel like a character from Pride & Prejudice."

"Okay, then, it's nice to meet you Emma."

"How long have you been outside? You look freezing. Do you want some hot chocolate?"

"Mom," Connor sighed. "It's May."

Emma looked disappointed. "So... you don't want hot chocolate?"

"I'd like hot chocolate," Charlie said.

"See?" Emma said cheerfully to Connor. "Only you think I'm embarrassing."

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An hour later Charlie was finishing her third cup of hot chocolate when Connor glanced at the clock and said casually, "Hey mom, can Charlie spend the night? It's late."

Emma frowned, "Tonight? It's a school night."

"No, it's not," Charlie corrected with a grin. "Connor's suspended and I already had graduation."

Emma glared at Connor. "Of course. I forgot, my son's a juvenile delinquent."

"I'm eighteen, so technically just a delinquent."

"Fine. Whatever. Do you need to go get anything? A sleepover bag or something?"

Connor looked at Charlie. "I swear she still thinks I'm five."

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Charlie sat in the window seat of Conners guest room, staring out the window. She'd walked back to where her car was parked with all her things in it and driven over. Emma hadn't minded. Of course Emma hadn't minded, because Emma was perfect. She was sweet and funny and warm and happy and loving and everything Rachel never was. She was the type of person who five seconds after meeting one of her sons friends made them hot chocolate and told embarrassing stories about Connor. She was a mom that Charlie thought only existed in fairy tales.

"Hey." Charlie turned to see Emma in the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," she responded. "Its your house."

Sitting next to Charlie, Emma said, "You're not a graduate passing through to visit her dad, are you? You're a runaway."

Charlie shrugged. "I'm both. How could you tell?"

"My parents wanted me to give up Conner for adoption when I had him. I guess I didn't technically run away, since I was over eighteen, but..."

"The principle's the same?"

Emma gave her a sad smile. "Exactly. Your parents will be worried about you."

Charlie laughed humorlessly. "It'll take them a week to notice I'm gone, then they'll make a fuss to keep up appearances before forgetting my name."

"What'll you do now?"

"Believe it or not, I've been planing this for a while. And by that I mean years. I'm good with computers, so I made fake IDs, birth certificate, put my school records under a false name... Everything I need to go to college, get a job, start a new life."

"What about money?" Emma asked quietly.

"I have enough to last a good while. And I can get a job to pay for what's not covered by my scholarship."

"What school?"

"UCLA, why?"

"Connor's going there too. And I have a friend, Nora Clayton, she's a photographer looking for a model. Preferably a blonde."

Standing up, Emma asked, "Are you sure your parents don't care?"

Looking her straight in the eye, Charlie replied, "Its the only thing I've ever been sure of."

Emma nodded. "Then you can stay here. For as long as you want."

That night, for the first time in a long time, Charlie didn't want to cry.