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A telescope's eyesight can't reveal the things I wanna see.


Chase Kennedy, 15, Lafayette, Louisiana


Kendall Ledet stands on the stage silently as everyone files into the auditorium. By my side, Laurel bounces quietly, radiating pent-up energy. She reminds me of me.

"Hey," I say, poking her in the thigh. "Cut out out, kid."

"You're ten months older than me, not ten years," scoffs Laurel.

"Attention, everyone." Kendall waves her hand and the room falls silent. I glance around in awe at how fast her command was obeyed. "As a sort of getting-to-know-you activity, my partners, Elle, Sierra, Colton, and Kenny, are going to be going around, passing out quizzes for you to fill out." She gestures to three figures at her side, all looking about to be my age – a petite girl with thick eyelashes, a scrappy female with lavender and periwinkle hair, an older guy with severe eyebrows and an incomplete mullet, and a nondescript brunette boy. "It's required that you fill out every answer truthfully and however you like – this will just test your aptitude and skill level for the activities we'll be setting up in the days to come."

"The first night and there's already a test?" I whine. The nondescript boy strides down my aisle, offering me a piece of paper and a pen with a silent smile. "I didn't know I was shipping myself off to boarding school."

"I think it'll be fun," Laurel says happily. "Look at this! The first question just asks us how old we were when we first considered ourselves 'mature'."

I turn to my own piece of paper, signing my name and examining the first question. 13, I scribe carefully, stealing a look at Laurel's page. 10. Yikes.

The questions that they're asking us are odd, but easy and even a little fun to answer. When asked if I've ever hated someone, my mom drifts across my mind, but delicately put 'no.'

Do you think killing is ever justified? Explain why or why not.

Under the Ten Commandments, killing is a very severe sin, I write. However, my personal opinion is that if it's absolutely necessary, in the case of a woman being chased by a probable rapist, if she drew a gun on him and fired then it would be justified.

Odd question to have. I frown slightly, but move on to a question that asks me what three items I'd like to have with me on a deserted island. Fun!

The quiz doesn't take very long, maybe ten minutes. Before I know it, Laurel and I are bouncing out into the lobby, searching for any desserts that Kendall or the staff might've set out. No such luck.

"Well, this is disappointing," I huff.

"Shh," Laurel giggles. "We could stand to fast a little after the cakes we chowed down a few hours ago."

"Yeah, but eating is a pastime." I pout dramatically. "Now there's nothing to do, and I am bored."

Just as soon as the words leave my lips, I spy a small herd of kids in the corner, near the elevators, and with a quick nod to Laurel, we're sneaking up on them like vultures to a fresh kill.

"What'd you put for the desert island question?" one of them asks – a blond boy, younger looking than me.

A very tall, very slim, very pale boy answers him. "I put Tictacs, a bottle of Captain Morgans, and a flare."

"Handling firearms while drunk and 'tac-ed up?" that one redheaded girl, Paige I think, shakes her head. "That's an accident waiting to happen."

"But practical, right?" The pale boy stammers. "I mean, Tictacs are just delicious, alcohol makes the time pass, and a flare's for when someone really needs to get into contact with you."

"Hey," I interject myself into the conversation, although not rudely, "I remember once at my Sunday school that there was this question about 'which food would you like to eat for the rest of your life, if that was the only thing you could eat?' I thought long and hard about it and me being the smart aleck, I put Rocky Road ice cream. The answer was nothing, because you need all five or six food groups just like you need all three parts of the Holy Trinity or something like that, but I think it proved a point."

"That's real smart," the pale boy breathes.

I smirk. "I try my hardest," I chirp.

"So what'd you put for the desert island question?" The blond boy's eyes gaze upwards at me.

"Oh, you know, the basics. Prayer pamphlet, satellite television to watch soccer matches, and a jug of iced tea." I smile. "That's all you need, right?"

"I put a satellite television, too!" The blond boy smiles. "To watch the Rockies. They're my favorite team."

"I love soccer, but I just can't pick a favorite team!" I laugh lightly. "I love Japan, their goalie looks like the cutest little teddy bear, but they're never gonna recover from that L that they took against us a few years ago."

"What's your name?" the boy asks, abruptly adding, "I'm Mitchell. It's nice to meet you."

"Chase." I smile around at everyone, only now remembering Laurel. I grab her sleeve and pull her close. "This is my best pal Laurel, we met roughly four hours ago and we're soulmates, I thought you all should know. What are your names?"

"Etienne."

"Paige."

This is where I'm happiest, I realize, as the conversation turns to the question about opinions on the death penalty. Right here, with like-minded people who're just as kind as me. Kind people rock!

I glance sideways at Laurel, and then I think about my boyfriend back home and all I've done in the past couple months, and then I realize, oh, yikes, I probably haven't been so kind to everyone. I try my best, really I do. Sometimes life just gets in the way. Kindness is not a requirement if you're going through things, right?

The conversation winds down and we go our separate ways, and I poke fun at Etienne for getting his arm caught in the elevator door. The vibes here are so good.

I'm about to take a running leap onto my bed when I realize, with a start, that there's clothes hanging in the closet that weren't there before.

"Hey, any of these yours?" I say off-handedly to Laurel, palming through hangers and hangers of clothes straight from an H&M catalog.

"Not a one," she mutters. "Are they for us?"

I pluck a thin pink and white nightshirt, holding it up to my body. Just a little bit, just the way I like. "If they weren't before, they are now!" I declare.

Within ten minutes, we're both in bed, quiet and tired but too excited to go to sleep quite yet. The nightshirt is cool against my bare skin. The white duvet feels like a very heavy cloud.

"You're not gonna go to bed any time soon," I say to Laurel.

"You're right."

"You want to go on a boy's floor and see if any of them wanna play a game?"

Even in the dark, Laurel's bright white teeth glimmer like the Cheshire cat. "You already know I'm game."


Antonio Chavitas, 15, New London, Connecticut


Arian won't turn the damn lights off.

"It's late," I say.

"It's ten," he says.

"You're a dumbass," I say.

"You're a lameass," he says.

Touché.

I sigh, sinking further down into my pillow. I've always had a sort of schedule, and it always made me feel prepared, in a way. I like going to bed at ten, then waking up at six, grabbing two pieces of toast for breakfast, and going out for a jog to the McDonalds a mile away and back. Showering, doing the dishes, getting dressed, jogging off to school and then the whole routine thing starts all over again. Behavioral science, then gym, then pre-calc, then lunch, then computer science, then English for dummies, then track practice and dinner with my buddies, then I go home, do homework, avoid my dad, and go to sleep. It's what I always do.

And now this thick bitch is messing up my sleep pattern. I'm gonna be so tired in the morning.

"Yo, you know what time we gotta wake up tomorrow or is it a whole sleep-in kind of situation?" I ask him, rolling over to face him in the next bed.

He's staring at his phone, but in this totally spaced kind of way. "Ahh," he drawls. "Think somebody said eight. Could be wrong, though."

Eight. That's not bad, but by the time six o'clock rolls around, my legs are gonna be kicking the sheets off of the bed. Aching for a run. I can already feel it.

My dad never got me the proper medications for anxiety after my mom. I miss when my mom was around. She made me soup and lasagna and she bought me new shoes every track season. She always used to joke with me whenever she made enchiladas at Christmas, that one day she'd be gone and I'd have to make the enchiladas myself. I'd lean against her soft sweater, close my eyes, and smell the habanero. The enchiladas were my favorite food.

I haven't eaten an enchilada since.

"Can you please turn those lights out?" I say again, staring over at Arian. He's not even looking at his phone anymore, he's staring at the wall. "Dude, what are you looking at?"

He glances at me and gives a half-laugh. "The wall, I think."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you on drugs?"

Arian sniggers, flinging his arms up in a casual 'who knows' pose. "Search my bag, dude! Find what you want!"

Accepting his invitation, I get out of my bed and stick my hand down his thin backpack. I feel money, a telltale leather strip that could be a wallet, and a bottle. I slide it out, gazing.

"You brought Xanax?"

He shrugs. "It helps me calm down, bro. You should take one. Helps you fall asleep on the spot."

I eye the pills carefully. I've never delved too deep into drugs. Never wanted to fuck up my perfect record and get tricked out of track. I've smoked pot maybe twice and I was on something back when my mom bought me pills for my anxiety. Does this count as something I'd need to take a pill for?

Looking back up at Arian, totally spaced, I decide it is.

And it's great. Not long after I swallow the little white pill, I slide in between my covers and it's like I've been tired for ages. I fall asleep right away!

Unfortunately, it's not a peaceful sleep.

I don't know how long I've been sleeping, but I know that I definitely didn't fall asleep with another person in my bed. I can feel a body next to me, warm and solid and so alive.

I slowly turn my head to see a pair of closed eyes with eyelashes too long to be Arian's.

Limbs thrashing, eyes burning from the light, I throw myself into a sitting position and whip my head to Arian's bed.

There's a girl in his bed, too.

Except I wouldn't exactly say his bed if she's sitting on top of it… on top of Arian

I let loose a shriek when I realize that she's riding him.

"What the fuck, dude!" I screech, stomach crawling. I leap out of bed as his head snaps towards me, eyes super wide. "If you're gonna bone someone at, at, at one AM have the decency to not do it in the same room where I'm sleeping!"

"Bro, I didn't think you were gonna wake up-"

"You gave me Xanax so you could meet up with your booty call in our dorm?" I shriek. I point at the girl in my bed. "What, is she supposed to be my fuckbuddy?"

The girl clambers off of Arian. I recognize her as Chase Kennedy, pale and confused-looking, but not ashamed. She hugs a pillow close to her chest and sits on the edge of his bed, gazing up at me. "Sorry to bother your sleep," she drawls. "Arian told me you fell asleep, like, two hours ago."

"And she's not my booty call," Arian snorts, staring at the back of Chase. "She's the one who came knocking at our door, asking if we wanted to play a game. I mean, I tried to wake you up, but…" he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. "You were really snoozing out there."

"So how the fuck did her friend get in my bed?" I shudder, realizing thankfully that at least this girl's got a top on. "And how the fuck did 'a game' turn into the loudest fuck-festival since Woodstock?"

"She was cold," Chase says simply. "And Laurel fell asleep and Arian and me, we both took a Xanax." She glances towards Arian, smirking. "Hey, maybe I'll see you round, but I think I'm pretty tired now, too."

She slides a pink nightshirt on, taps her friend on the shoulder. The brunette awakens with a startle. "W-What?"

"Wanna come back to our room now, Laurel?" Chase cracks her knuckles. My skin is crawling.

"I… I guess so." Laurel wipes her eyes and yawns. She looks at me. "Uh, did you and me do anything…?"

"I think the fuck not," I growl. "Get out of my bed!"

She shrugs, unshaken just like her pale comrade. "Not much of a loss, I guess. I'm too tired for anything tonight anyways."

The girls leave after a bit of banter between them, and, shaken, I slip into bed once again. "Hey, you know that you're-" I start, glaring over at Arian's bed, but – much to no surprise – he's dozed off already.

It really sucks being the pure friend.


Ailsa Aleese, 15, Malibu, California


There's a knock at the door.

I awaken with a startle, expecting to hear the calming rush of waves, but hearing only radio silence. I strain my ears and – knock, knock, knock – there it is again. I glance over to Devon. She's out like a light.

I tread softly down the hallway to the door, hallway lights illuminating a golden bar underneath the door. I'm greeted with a soft smile. "Hi, Ailsa."

A smile breaks out before I can help it. "It's, like, two AM, Gil."

Gillian pouts. She hugs herself, and I notice that instead of taking one of the cute pairs of pajamas hanging in the closets, she's wearing one of her old California sweatshirts. "I can't sleep. My roommate snores and she's so rude." She slowly takes my wrist and our eyes meet. "I missed you."

My eyes flicker out into the hallway. Silence. "You can sleep with me, if you want," I offer.

We silently tread back to my bed, and snuggle up against each other like old times. Even in the dark, I can see her eyes, wide and nervous-looking. "What's up?" I whisper, turning onto my side.

Gillian shrugs, trying to give me a reassuring smile. I can tell it's fake. "For real, Gil."

"This place is just weird," she whispers. "We're so far from home and nobody knows where we are. I know I wanted to get away from my parents, but I just miss them."

I stay silent for a second, knowing that it'd seem cocky if I told her how much fun I've been having. "At least they're, like, totally worrying about you now. You showed them."

"You don't have a serious bone in your body…" Gillian gives me a sad smile. "Your parents wouldn't worry, would they?"

"They let me do a lot of what I want," I say. "Remember that one week I just spent sleeping over at your house, and they texted me maybe three times to ask how my grades were doing?"

"Your parents are so cool." Gillian shivers, snuggles down further into the covers. I watch with half-lidded eyes as she stretches her arms high above her head.

"So are we," I say.

She gives me a side smirk, rolling over to face me completely. "You've got that right."

I watch over the course of the next hour as Gillian goes from giggly and all sleepover-party-hyped to plain sleepy and finally, I watch as her eyelashes flutter with every breath she takes as she falls under the veil of sleep. She's such a beautiful girl, with thick dark brown curls and long lashes. I can't remember a time when she and I were anything less than best friends.

The truth is, I would probably do anything for Gil, and she knows it. She's always been the leader in our relationship, the more dominant one, and maybe I've felt for her as more than a friend, once or twice. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't really matter how I feel. I'll just be whatever she wants me to be.

Smiling to myself, I turn over to face Devon's bed, and fall asleep fast.

Morning breaks through, but I can't see it. I'm awakened by Devon's movements. I watch her pull a pair of light grey jeans on, a pale blue sweater, and her shoes from yesterday. She notices my gaze and laughs lightly.

"Looks like you found a snuggle buddy."

I shrug, swinging my legs out of bed and glancing back at Gillian. Her curls are splayed all over the pillow, and she's taking up more room than she should, as always. "She said her roomie snored. I decided to be charitable, obviously." I wink at Devon so she knows I'm playing.

She giggles. "You two better hurry up and get ready. One of Kendall's groupies came knocking at our door and said breakfast is at eight-thirty, and it's eight-twenty right now."

"Awesome!" I sing out, flying to the closet and grabbing the first blue piece of clothing I can find; a flowy romper. "Do you think they'll have biscuits? I'm really feeling a biscuit right about now."

"Dunno," Devon sighs. She gazes at the grey screen for a moment before slowly reaching over, grabbing the remote, and pressing a button that makes it explode in a flurry of green and grey. A misty forest.

"You like forests?" I say conversationally as I make my way into a bathroom, finding a hairbrush. I tug it through my dark brown knots carefully.

"Not much more than I like tundras or cities, I guess." I hear the telltale click of a button, which means she's changed the picture. "I've always been a rustic cabin, wood crackling in the fireplace kinda girl. Homey."

"I couldn't ever stand that!" I gag playfully, skittering out to the bedroom and chucking the hairbrush at Gillian. It hits her in the shoulder with a soft crack, and she jerks herself awake, confused. I laugh. "I'm much more of a beachy kind of person! I used to be able to see the Pacific out my window every morning. Now, we don't even have any windows."

"It's a change, for sure," Devon drawls. She stares at Gillian, who's rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Morning, sleepyhead. Can I ask what your name is?"

Gil laughs embarrassedly. "Gillian," she says. "Sorry to intrude. My roommate could be the Abominable Snowman, the way she growls in her sleep. I gotta have it all peace and quiet, you know?"

"I getcha." Devon stands. "I'll leave you two to it, I wanna get an early start on the pancakes."

"I feel like she didn't like me," Gillian says once Devon's gone.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a vibe." She frowns. "Like when I thought that Casey Evans was cheating on Rachel. He definitely was!"

"Your head was too far up Casey's ass to see that," I tease, "and you're the one that he cheated on her with!"

Gillian snickers, standing and drawing herself to my side. "You always got that eye for detail, don't ya?"

I sit back on the bed, watching Gillian as she chooses a simple white shirt and pair of striped shorts from the closet. Last night I was so tense about the 'activities' that we'd be doing today, I think I chattered Devon's ear off. I was afraid of being alone, I suppose. I always keep a bright outlook on things, and I was definitely so excited for a new adventure, but sometimes it's just hard to keep that in mind when you don't have somebody by your side.

But, I realize as Gillian grins, turning to me and offering her arm out so I can link mine in hers, that as long as I've got a friend or two by my side, this adventure will be easier than I've been thinking.


A/N: Losing Your Mind by Raury ft. Jaden Smith.


First I don't update for thirteen months, and then I update twice in two days? What is this?

Whatever. You all deserve it. That, and I'm seriously getting back in love with this story and the characters. I'm so excited to fill out everyone's plots and just to keep progressing on with this story!

Reviews are appreciated as always, on everyone's POV and just a general 'what are you excited for' and 'how is my writing doing'! Have a great day!