The kids had all gone home by now, except Jamie. He stayed the longest, playing with me and Jack. "Are you angry at me?"

I looked up at Jamie from me crouch in front of the teeter totter, repainting a chipped off portion. "Why would I be?"

Jamie's bottom lip quivered, "I got you killed."

I stood up, not wanting Jamie to cry, "Uh, hey! Don't blame yourself, I mean, come on Jamie, I'm the one who ran into the alley. If anything, you should be mad at me for getting you in danger."

"You told me to stay by the painting." He mumbled, grabbing onto my waist, and hugging me tightly.

"Ha, I should have known you wouldn't listen, God knows I didn't listen to anyone when I was your age." I chuckled.

Jack piped up, "Oh, you were a naughty list kid, weren't you?"

Jamie giggled at Jack, and I shrugged, "I got into my fair share of trouble."

What else can a kid do when their mother doesn't pay attention to them? They get into trouble, lots of trouble, just to get her attention. But they never do. So then high school comes along, and they realize that the world is full of dirt bags, and just because your mother is one too doesn't mean you have a right to cause trouble for other people.

So you put your energy into different things, you make friends, you try and get good grades, and you discover a talent. That talent gets you noticed, not by your mother, but by half the art schools in the country.

"I should be thanking you Jamie, remember, I told you that the biggest burden to being an artist, was not having enough time to paint everything in the world. Now, I have eternity."

Jamie stuck around a little while longer, and the went home when it got dark. Me and Jack just sat on top of the jungle gym, talking. "So, why do you paint?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Well, it comes out of my skin Jack, what else am I supposed to do with it?"

He laughed, "No, I mean before you turned into Callisto Acrylic. Why did you paint?"

I shrugged, "Well, I guess, to a kid that had nothing, painting something, it gave me hope. I couldn't go to the places I painted, but I could imagine I did. My head was always in the clouds, and I guess it was better than being down here."

Jack hummed, "So, you were a kid with nothing, huh? What about your family?"

"Dad was a no show for… well, my whole life, and Mom was drunk all the time. Her boyfriends came and went, I never really paid much attention to them." I explained. "Eventually I just got sick of feeling sorry for myself, and I moved out here to go to art school."

"Art is your passion then?" He asked, hooking his knees around a bar and then dangling from it, smiling up at me.

"Yeah, I spent more money on paint than I did on food." I laughed. "So, is snow your passion?"

"Having fun is my passion." He corrected, swinging back up to sit next to me. "That's me, I'm the Guardian of Fun."

"Guardian of Fun, huh?"

He nodded, "Yeah, fun, that's my center."

I raised an eyebrow, "Uh, center?"

"A center is the reason Manny picks you, you're one trait that stands out above the rest. For me, that's my ability to have fun. North, it's wonder. Easter Kangaroo, it's hope. Tooth, it's memories-"

"Wait, wait! Easter… Kangaroo?" I asked.

Jack laughed, "It's Bunny to you, or just call him Bunnymund. I'm the only one who calls him Kangaroo. Just like he's the only one who calls me frostbite."

I rolled my eyes, "Boys and their stupid macho bickering."

He smirked, and raised his staff up, shoving me in the chest with it. Ice shot all over my sweater, and it made me lean back, and dangle off of the jungle gym, the only thing keeping me from not falling were my knees, clenched tight around the bar I had been sitting on.

"Jack!" I snapped, pulling myself back up.

He laughed, "What's wrong, no sense of balance?"

I glared at him, "For your information, I have a great sense of balance." I brushed the frost off of my hoodie, "If I didn't, there's no way I could have survived three years of kick boxing."

He nodded, "A tough girl, huh?"

I looked away from him, towards the snow covered ground. "I wouldn't exactly say that…"

A tough girl isn't still afraid of the boogey man.

Jack shrugged, "Whatever, I've got to go tell North that I was right about you. You did turn into a spirit after all. He's gonna wanna meet you eventually, and Tooth is going to be all over those teeth of yours."

"My teeth?"

"She's the Tooth fairy, teeth are kind of her thing."

"Oh, makes sense." I mumbled. "But if it's all the same to you, I don't want to meet them yet. I'm a bit anti-social, and eccentric people tend to freak me out."

He chuckled, "Fine by me, my little Frostie."

"What?"

Jack smirked, "Frostie. When I met the other guys for the first time, North was kind of like my mentor. He helped me out, showed me the ropes. I'm gonna do the same to you. I'm your mentor, and that makes you my little Frostie!"

I shook my head, "No. Nu uh. You aren't gonna call me that."

He sat on his staff, and floated into the air in front of me, giving me a wink, "Catch you later Spray Paint."

He took off, and I stared after him, raising an eyebrow, "The hell did he just call me?"

"Still have a foul mouth I see."

I felt a chill run through my body. No, it couldn't be! I wasn't asleep anymore. I would never sleep, ever again!

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Pitch standing at the edge of the playground, in the shadows of a tree. "P-pitch?"

He smiled, "Oh, you remember me."

Of course I remember you! You tormented me and mauled my mind my entire life! It's because of you that I haven't had a good night's sleep in years, you jerk!

That's what I wish I could say, but I can't. I'm to scared.

I stand up quickly, trying to run, but my feet slip on the bars, and I fall to the ground, hitting it hard. I gasp for breath, trying to get my wits about me. But it's no use, my head is spinning, and all I want to do is throw up.

"I am happy to see you again Callisto, I was afraid I had killed my last believer."

I got to my feet, and started backing up, "Leave me alone! I'm not asleep, you can't do anything to me."

He shook his head, "Oh, my dear, now that you're one of us, I can."

Black shadows shot out around him, weaving through the air like snakes, lashing out at me.

I did the only thing I could as they came at me, I lifted my hands up on an instinct, and braced for impact. They slammed into me, throwing me backwards into a tree. Pain shot through my body, every inch of my flesh feeling the pain. I dropped into the snow, gasping for air.

Pitch stood over me, "Oh, I'm afraid this isn't a dream Callisto. You can't simple bounce back. Although your newer form is much more… durable, you can still feel pain." He held up his hand, a trickle of black sand running through it, and he watched it intently, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. "You can still…" His head whipped around to sneer at me, "Bleed."

The trickle of sand flew at my face like a knife, slashing and cutting and tearing. I screamed, rolling over onto my back and trying to brush it off, but the minute I tried to touch it, it just cut my hands to shreds.

Just as suddenly as the attack came on, it stopped. The black sand retreated back to Pitch, and he smirked as I curled up into a ball, trying to have some form of defense. I know it was pathetic, but I had learned from experience, you can't fight Pitch Black. Whatever he does to you, it doesn't last. Eventually, you wake up and it's all over. That's what I'll do now. I'm sleeping, all of this was a dream, I'll wake up soon, and Pitch will be gone.

"Such design!" Pitch exclaims, "Every part of you is simply art."

I had never heard something so creepy. But when I looked up to see if he was going to try anything, I understood what he meant. The warm liquid leaking from my face and hands, it wasn't blood. It was paint. The torn skin wasn't even skin, it was a canvas material.

All I was, all that I am, is a picture.

Paint a paper.

It's even in my name, Callisto Acrylic.

I don't have skin, I have canvas. I don't have blood, I have paint.