Author's Note: I know you probably want to punch me in the face right now, but I'm out of school now, and my sister has a graduation party in a week, and I'm in charge of a lot. I hope you'll forgive me!

Bold - Someone's writing it (i.e. Jericho)
Bold and Italics - Sign Language
Italics - Dialog (someone's saying it- with Jericho, it's his thoughts)
Nothing - Nothing, just plain ol' text and information

Chapter 10: Black Hearts
Joey's Point Of View

"I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day"
-Paint It Black, The Rolling Stones

My eyes open, and my left foot is upon the first step on the porch's stairs. I place my hand on the railing, the paint nearly all peeled off. I look back to the street, which, save for a few cars, is empty. I look back to the door; and the thoughts flood into my head.

I can't believe what I'm doing. What if he's not here? I can just leave and never come back. Act like I was never here.

I quickly walk up the stairs and to the door, which is locked.

Of course, it's locked. I knew he'd never leave the house unlocked, whether he's here or not.

But then I remembered something, and I run back to the mailbox, and I feel underneath it. I remove a key taped to it and walk back to the door. I insert the key into the lock and turn it and open the creaky door. I grab my things off of the porch and sling my backpack on my shoulder and walk inside, closing the door behind me.

Punk Rocket's Point Of View

As the head mistress paces back and forth in her office, I'm sitting in a chair before her, my palms getting a bit sweaty.

Why hasn't he showed yet, Mr. Rocket?

He should've by now, ma'am. Maybe he's planning something?

Where is he to go? He has no home, no friends, no fam- did you happen to tell him any directions?

I think so, why?

To where?

I- I don't know. He asked directions to a house I think. It was a couple blocks away. He's got no one. His father won't help him, you know that. He's too- good. Too different from him. I don't get it. Looks nothing like him, acts nothing like him. Are you sure it's his son?

You're the one who brought me the picture. Why would he not be his son if he had the picture?

I saw his brother before, the other child in the picture. Strange kid- got sent to a science lab. I think I can talk to him, if it's that important to you.

Good, maybe you can get some information out of him. Now go, go to your class.

Yes, ma'am.

Joey's Point Of View

I set the guitar case and my duffle bag down on the couch in the living room, which is left as if it was never touched since the day I left. I look at the fireplace, which looked ancient, and the picture hanging above it, which looked like it was just cleaned. It was the same picture that I had, but much bigger. I turn back around to face the stairs, and I walk towards them. I look at the top of the stairs and see the piano which used to be in the living room corner. I walk up the stairs and I walk to the end of the hall and face a door on my right. I slowly turn the handle and open the door to me and Grant's old room. To my left, I see his bed, which definitely hasn't been touched, and in front of me is my bed, which strangely looked newer and cleaner. I walk to it and pick up a picture on the nightstand. It's a small picture of me and Grant when we were little. I don't see anything special about the picture, but Mom always took pictures of us when we were small. She wanted to be a photographer, before she joined the army. I turn around and leave the room and shut the door behind me. I walk back down the stairs and turn to the cupboard underneath it. Ever since I was little, I knew there was something special about it. Dad never let me go in it, he always kept it locked. He probably doesn't lock it now, but I turn the handle, and it's locked.

But then, I had an idea. I take the house key out of my pocket and put it into the lock. As much as I try, it's still locked nonetheless. I go into the kitchen and look around for the jar. Whenever I found something special, Mom put it into a canning jar. One day, I found an old, weird-looking key on the stairs, and into the jar it went. I never knew where she put it, but I know it's in the kitchen somewhere. After looking in every cupboard, every drawer in the room, I gave up and lied down on the floor, taking off my backpack first. As I got aggravated, my hands grabbed and pulled my hair. I open my eyes and I see underneath the dirty, dust-covered counters. I look closer, and I see the jar. I try to reach it, but my arm won't fit underneath the counter. I open my backpack and look around for something to help. I surprised to see a stick in the bottom of my bag, but thankful at the same time. It must of fell in there when that demon girl wrecked my home, but it looks helpful nevertheless. I grab it and stick it underneath the counter and push the jar closer my way. I put the stick back into my bag and grab the jar. Out of all the things in the house, I think that it's the dirtiest and dustiest. I struggle to open it, but eventually, I got it open. I empty its contents onto the floor and see what I've collected over the years. I see a couple of stickers, a necklace, the key, and a folded up piece of paper. I unfold the paper and I see a letter from Mom. I can barely read it, knowing that it's probably as old as the dust covering everything in the house. I fold it up and put it back into the jar with the rest of my findings, save for the key, and I carefully place it into my backpack. I stand up and look at the key. It's dull and black, with a heart carved into the side of it. I put my backpack onto my back and walk back to the stairs' mysterious cupboard. I look at the lock underneath the handle, which is also dull and black with a heart carved on it. I slowly breathe as I place the key into its lock and turn the handle. The door silently opens, and in the small room I see a couple of boxes. I move them to reveal a misshaped tile. I move that as well, exposing a hole in the floor, big enough for someone to climb down. I crawl over to it and I see a ladder descending from it down to somewhere I can't see. I nervously climb down and as I jump down to the ground from a couple rungs up, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. As I walk, I find my steps to echo off of the steel floor. As I get nearer and nearer to the light, I realize that it's not light from the sun. It's light from a screen.

I slowly etch my way to a large door, and I stretch as far up as I can to see through the small window. I see a huge computer screen in front of a large table. On the screen is a map of the city, and on the table are various papers, pencils, rulers, meter sticks, and other drawing materials. I sit down on the ground and lean against the door to avoid being seen. On the wall to my right, I see a small screen. I crawl my way to it to see that it's an ID identifier. I smirk at my father's strains to be hidden and secure, but I don't blame him. With so many super-powered teens after someone, it ought to be a good idea to go beyond your regular security. As I'm trying to stand back up, I hear a couple of people talking. I hear my dad and, for some reason, a woman. I smile, thinking it's Mom, but unfortunately, it's not. I can hear them clearly, and they're discussing something about- me?

You expect me to believe that this child, who is supposed to be on top of a mountain, was seen in no more than a couple of blocks away from me?

Was, and still is. So he is your son?

I'm not saying that he is!

Of course my father would try to deny that I'm his son, but I'd rather have it that way. Unfortunately, as I try to stand, I push my hand on the identifier's screen and the door opens, causing me to stumble backwards, falling flat onto the floor.

Like I said Slade- was, and still is. I'm sure you have unfinished business to accompany- with your son. We'll keep in touch.

He is not my son!

As the lady disappears from the screen, my father looks back at me, while I still lie on the floor on my back, giving him a bad reassuring smile.

I really wanted to write more, but I couldn't! I'm kind of surprised no one reviewed on my "time off", but no biggie! By "bad reassuring smile" I mean like the bad poker face meme guy.

I realized I haven't had a parody song on this story yet!

Cruel World - Female / Male Duet

(Krista) All around me are a bunch of powers
Wasting hours, Breaking towers
Bright and early to see the dead flowers
All alone, all alone

The wind is blowing up the ashes
To nowhere, to nowhere
Cover my head I want to hide it all
No more, no more

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
That when I'm happy, I feel very mad
I find it hard to say, I find it hard to set straight
When I think of my fate it's a very, very
Cruel world, cruel world

(Joey) A child waiting for their fa-th-er
Their hero, their savior
They feel the same way every day
So different, so broken

Want to scream but the words stall
Please help me, please help me
Hello brother can you understand
Cannot hear me, cannot hear me

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
That when I try to help, I wish I never had
I find hard to say, I find it hard to set straight
When I think of my past it's a very, very

(Both) Cruel world, cruel world

Cruel world, cruel world

Cruel world, cruel world

Cruel world, worsening your pain

Cruel world

-Parody of Gary Jules, Mad World

(please review)