Derek went through his day completely and utterly in confusion.

His baby brother and step-sister were acting as if he had just be found after running away or being kidnapped. Girls were all over him even more than often. And his friends were pushing him towards the ones that didn't even more than that. He had so much homework that the teachers for some reason were calling 'missed' work.

He was tired throughout his day, sending him in a slush. He tried his best not to fall asleep right there in history class, but he leaned into his palm like he would a pillow.

As he walked out of class, Sam came rushing up to him, wearing a bright, wide smile. "Hey, man. You look terrible."

Derek scoffed pathetically. "Tell me about it."

"Maybe hitting on little, unaware Stacy Skeech would help?" The blond gestured to the short, red-head girl who was quietly wiping her glasses while trying to find something in her purse.

Derek growled. "My little sister, and quiet possibly my best friend, died yesterday. Girls aren't in my intrest anymore."

Sam scoffed. "Derek..."

But Derek wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on the familiar brunette, walking with an emotionless look on her face pass the counselor's office. He looked down at his watch and was even more confused. It was the usual time Casey went in to see Bob. Why was she just passing his office?

"Hey, man..."

"Sam, just shut up, okay? I don't need you right now. Later."

Derek quickly walked away from his 'friend' and over to his step-sister. She was walking quicker than she usually did, which sent Derek only further in confusion. He grabbed Casey's arm and spun her around. She gave a questioned turn to the head. "What?"

"Don't you usually go to see Bob now?"

"He's not on my schedule. I don't need to see him." Casey yanked her arm out of Derek's grip, which was surprisingly weak. Immediately, her manicured fingers went to her temple, rubbing it in pain. "See you later."

Derek raised an eyebrow and looked back at the counselor's office. If Casey wouldn't give him answers, maybe Bob would.


Bob heard a knock on his door. "Come in." The door opened a little. Enough to show a face. "Come in Derek." Bob pushed up in his chair, ready to listen.

Derek walked in, closing the door and sitting in the chair before the counselor. "How you doin'?"

"I think that's something for you to answer."

Derek breathed. "Tired. Very Tired. And everybody is acting like my little sister didn't die just yesterday night."

Bob raised an eyebrow.

Derek sighed. "Why does it seem like everybody knows something I don't?!" He snapped, combing his fingers through his course hair.

Bob leaned forward. "Derek..." Derek looked up. "Marti's been dead for a month and a half."

Derek's brown eyes widened in surprise as he scrambled in his pockets for his cell phone. He flipped it on and searched for the calender.

Bob was right. It was a month, two weeks, two days, ten hours, fourty-six minutes, and ten seconds since the doctors told him, personally, that his baby sister was dead.

"Thanks...I got to go."

Derek ran for the door. Before his hand turned the knob, his attention was turned back to the counselor, who said, "You should thank Casey. She's...done a lot for you."