"Oh god," Ava said seeing the bed, empty. Not even been slept in. The sheet was untouched, the pillow wasn't hanging off the bed like normally was. She rushed back to where Johnny and Jay were still gawping out of the window.

"Jay...Johnny...Bradins gone!" she said, on the verge of tears.

"Huh?" Jay said, turning around.

"Gone, verb, as in, not there anymore." Johnny replied sarcastically, receiving daggers from Jay.

"I'll ring his cell,"Ava said, more to herself than anyone else. She speed-dialled and a picture of a pink phone rose and fell on screen, indicating it was calling.

Out on rocks, somewhere in Playa Linda, sat a 17yr old boy, with more alcohol in his body than a child should. However, it wasn't his first time. He had been here before. He knew how to compose himself. His cell was vibrating in his pocket, so naturally he reached in to get it. By the time he found the corrected pocket, the phone had long stopped ringing, but the beeping noise showed he had a message. It was Sasha.

"Hiya Sexy guy! I called out side your house and you didn't noticed, so I knocked on your bedroom door. You didn't answer, so u must be in bed, asleep. Wish I was with you (though not necessarily asleep!). See you on Monday. Bye Bye." The phone went back to its automated messaging. He turned off his phone and flipped it shut. He had enough to deal with without that chick bothering him.

"No answer," Ava said to the guys, who were still perched on the couch, flicking through sports channels.

"Listen. Hes17, right. Soon he going to be going away to college, doing dumb-ass stuff like this every weekend. And you can't always be there, o.k?" Jay said, looking her dead in the eye, causing her to admit he had a point. "You just go and get some sleep."

"O.K," she agreed, going back up the stairs. H eyes were flickering around in her sockets, the way people's do when they're thinking, like she was reading something in her own mind.

He was wading through the water, his surf shorts getting wet around his knees. He may as well get back to the house. Everyone would be asleep, and he could always sneak in his own door. Walking through the deserted streets of Playa Linda, his mind wandered back to Callie. He wondered what she was doing at that exact moment.

Not that he would know it, but she was at the hospital, tears making her cheeks stiff and rigid. Her cousin, her best friend, was going to be fine, but it involved some major stitching to her faces, and cast on her leg from when she fell. But they could go and see her. She walked in, and wanted to spin on her heel and run straight back out. Missy had tubes in her arm, and ugly black stitching in her face. The glass had luckily avoided her eyes. The girls at the party had all rang their moms to pick them up, and her mom had gone home to pick up some of Missy's stuff. Callie gently reached up and touched the string holding Missy's beautiful coffee-coloured skin together. Missy winced, waking from her drug-induced sleep.

"Aa, Callie!" she winced, crunching up her face.

"Are you o.k.?" Callie asked.

"Fine, just a bit worse for wear. But I need to talk to you," she answered, dropping her voice on the last part. "Callie, stay near Bradin,"

"What!" she squeaked, jumping up. "No! I think something's wrong, im going to go get a nurse,"

"No, listen. Bradin...he's…dangerous. Not when he's sober, but when he's been drinking, which is becoming more every damn day, he dangerous. He put me in hospital. I don't want to think what he could do to you. He good, I know he is, he just makes some dumb choices. You need to be near him, help him. Makes sure he holds nothing against you. Promise me,"

"O.k., I promise." Callie answered, holding her hand.

"And when I get b...ba...ahh, Callie!" she screamed, coughing, blood starting to come out of her mouth.

"Missy! Missy! What wrong?" Callie cried, as Missy's head fell to one side, unconscious, once again. Callie pressed the emergency nurse button on her bedside table.

Bradin was back in his room, staring at the ceiling and trying to make shapes with the pattern. He pulled of his pants and threw himself under the covers, going off into drunken dreams.

What is going to happen? Does Missy Live? Does Missy die? Only I have the power, but you thoughts and guesses are welcome. This is probably going to have about ¾ more chaps, coz it's getting kind boring. May write a sequel. Only time will tell. Oh, and for any-one who cares, which is probably about 3 of you, sniff, ITS MY B0DAY ON THE 26TH. Birthday messages welcome. Anyway, this will resume after I've finished being amazed by my all new American, imported video I pod. does happy dance whoop go me go me go me. Oh yeah, and imp going on a water sports holiday with school, so this will also resume after the 30th.

REVIEW STILL WELCOME, FROM NEW READERS. OLD READER AND RE-READERS.