Whoo! School is over. OVER.

...For now, I mean.

"You slept with him?" Allison asked a little louder than she intended.

"No!" Claire hissed, her eyes looking over her shoulder as passerby watched her curiously. She glared at them as they walked by, another watching the two of them. Claire opened her mouth and demanded, "What?"

A tall, scrawny kid looked taken aback and raised his hands, palms toward them and claiming his innocence as he quickly continued down the hallway. Allison bit her lower lip and stared at Claire. Allison smiled to herself before glancing at Claire; she still held some sort of power over the kids at the school. Claire might have been dressing differently and her friends were changing, but she didn't seem to take shit from anyone. Allison had to hand it to Claire.

"Sorry." Allison said as she watched Claire turn toward her locker and rummage through it, "...So, you kinda slept with him?"

Claire gave her a look.

Allison pursed her lips, feeling amused, but keeping her thoughts to herself. The two of them were standing silently in the empty hallway, the day finished. Students and teachers had already made their way out the doors, ready to go home after an incredibly long day. It was Wednesday. Only two more days to go before another week had finished. Exams were starting to peek their ugly heads from their six month slumber and the workload, especially for the seniors, was piling up. Allison couldn't count on two hands the number of essays and books she had to finish and read by the end of next week.

"He doesn't even look at me, anymore." Claire said, into her locker before slamming it closed, startling Allison. Claire reached down for her instrument case beside her feet and straightened up, "No, 'Princess', or...'Cherry'..."

"You want him to insult you?" Allison asked, surprised as she slowly followed Claire down the hallway.

"Of course not." Claire said, with a sigh as they continued on, making a right toward Allison's locker, "But at least he paid attention to me. Now, he just ignores me."

"I guess that is weird." Allison agreed, frowning. Bender had a reputation; he was an instigator and started fights, not avoided them.

"He's in some of my classes, too. Classes I didn't even know we had together." Claire said her voice softening, she then frowned as she looked at Allison and pointed, "You've got something on your face. Is that paint?"

Allison reached for her cheek and felt some sort of plaster and scratched at it. She looked at her fingernail and saw a bit of blue under her fingernails. She nodded, "Yeah."

Earlier that day, Allison was in the bathroom during the rush between classes. She had been in her secret art room busily working away. Her focus entirely on her painting, she didn't pay attention as she reached for a particular blue colour she liked that was only a few feet away. Allison felt her mistake and tried to reach for the falling unopened paint container but was unable to catch it. Not only did it spill all over her hands, but onto the floor.

Allison sighed softly to herself as she placed her hands under the flowing bathroom tap and rubbed roughly as she tried to wipe away the dried paint. She watched as the diluted paint mix with the white sink, silently enjoying how the paint swirled with the moving water.

"What are you doing? Hey. Freak. I'm talking to you."

Allison blinked, taking herself out of her trance at the sound of the insult. She looked up in the mirror and saw the funny-looking girl she had met quite awhile ago. One of Claire's old friends. The hell was her name? The girl was staring at Allison, a look of disgust and annoyance all over her face. Allison didn't say anything and returned to rubbing the paint off her hands.

"You're Ashley, right? Anna or Allison. What's your name?"

Allison didn't answer, her focus on her hands. She had managed to get most of the blue off, but now there were other layers of drier colours on her fingers and difficult-to-reach places, like under her fingernails.

The girl paused, waiting for an answer, but not getting one, she sighed irritably and continued to speak, "You're dating Andy, right? Is it serious?"

Again, Allison ignored the nosy funny-looking girl beside her.

The girl sighed, louder this time, "You're just ruining everything for him, you know that, don't you?"

Allison frowned at her hands, seemingly free of any paint now, but she continued rubbing.

"Ever since he quit wrestling, he's been miserable." The girl continued, "Don't you know anything about his family? His reputation? He doesn't have any friends and it's all your fault. Can't you see that? I thought he was your boyfriend."

Allison sighed and then glared at the stupid funny-looking girl, "Are you done?"

The girl paused, looking somewhat taken aback, but she settled on a look as if she had a bad smell under her nose and crossed her arms, "Excuse me?"

"You're that girl that has a crush on Andy, aren't you?" Allison started, staring at the girl's astonished face through the mirror, "Yeah, I remember, now, Claire told me about you. You've been after him since you met him, but he never showed any interest in you. So, for whatever illogical reason, you've decided to dedicate your miserable high school life in making anyone who happens to be on Andy's good side, either a zombie that would follow you anywhere so you won't bully them, or an outcast."

The girl looked completely astonished, her face had changed dramatically through Allison's speech, unable to formulate words in which Allison figured was because of the tiny muscle membrane most would call a brain.

Allison continued, "Well, news flash, it seems like no one gives a damn what you think. After this year, your existence in this godforsaken school would be as important to anyone as that fly sitting quietly in the corner of this bathroom. If you have something important to say, then say it, but don't waste my time because I'm already an outcast."

With that, Allison reached over for the tap, twisted the handle to turn of the flow of water and with a click of her heel, she walked past the funny-looking-girl who-has-a-crush-on-Andy and pushed the door of the bathroom open. Outside the bathroom, Allison heart was beating faster than she had ever felt. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. She looked at her shaking hands1 and noticed how red they were.

"Hey. You okay?"

Allison blinked, then nodded as she stared at Claire, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Claire didn't look convinced but to Allison's relief, didn't press, "Well, anyway...oh..." Claire had plastered a friendly smile on her lips and motioned slightly with her head, "Hi, Andy."

"Hi, Claire." Allison looked up and saw Andy nodding at Claire, then his smile widening as his eyes locked with Allison's. She grinned, unable to look into his blue eyes for too long without feeling herself blush uncontrollably.

"Hi." Allison said, softly, standing beside Andy and feeling shy.

"Hey." Andy said beside her, and she felt his hand reaching for hers.

Allison swallowed trying to calm her nerves as she looked at Claire. She could see Claire was happy for the two of them, but Allison also knew Claire was in no mood to watch any sort of passion Allison or Andy were sure to do, as much as they wanted to, anyway. The three of them turned away from the lockers and walked toward the main hallway.

As they reached the main entrance of the school Claire waved at them, looking slightly happier than before, "I have to pick up my brother from the airport. I'll see you later!"

Allison and Andy watched as Claire practically ran out the door.

"So," Andy said loudly and Allison looked at him as the two of them followed Claire, "work, today?"

Allison nodded, squeezing Andy's hand for remembering as well as some reassurance. They were now out of the entrance doors and there were still students hanging out in the front, waiting for parents, busses, or just talking. Andy had only told his coach and Paul that he was going to quit the wrestling team a few weeks ago, but word spreads fast in a high school. Stares followed the couple as they walked down what seemed like mile-long stairs. This was not an unusual occurrence.

Allison had habitually reached for her hood and placed it over her face. She could hear whispers and other things she couldn't make out, but none of it sounded very pleasant. True, the initial shock of Andy quitting and dating the high school freak had lessened, but that didn't mean the words hurt less. Allison stole a glance at Andy, and his jaw was tight, but his eyes seemed to threaten anyone who dared say anything above a whisper. Andy then let go of Allison's hand, making her panic slightly, but she then felt his strong arm reach around her waist and his hand squeezed her side. Allison felt Andy lead her toward the edge of school onto the sidewalk and across the street, the school and whispers behind them.

Allison often prided herself in the ability she had to ignore others, but when it came to Andy, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable. Why, Allison couldn't answer. That massive amount of courage that she had in the girl's bathroom by the art room had completely disappeared and she had fallen back on the timidity others often presumed to be an odd personality that sprung up dark rumours of worshipping the dead. Allison didn't act like it, but everything the funny-girl had told her in the bathroom hit Allison hard with every word. Allison was not familiar with the basic ritual acts of romantic relationships, she only understood what she knew. Which was nothing. It was all unfamiliar and the only way she would react was with an honesty she didn't often show others.

Andy dropped his hand and Allison heard him sigh. Allison pulled back her hood and frowned, looking back at the school.

"What a terrible place." Allison looked up at Andy, his eyes narrowed and his jaw working. Allison sighed, the funny-girl's words still ringing in her ears, "Still glad you quit?"

Andy shrugged and stuffed his hands in his front pockets. He sighed and looked at her, "I'm not regretting it. Just kind of tired of the bullshit."

Allison wasn't sure what to say, simply because whispers wasn't unusual for her, but they were for Andy. She knew Andy felt uncomfortable at the talks behind his back. Even the wrestling teammates Andy considered friends were acting odd around him, except, perhaps Paul. Andy was literally becoming isolated and his status was changing in the high school community. Allison also knew some of that blame could be placed on her. Maybe all. The funny-girl was right. Her words were not insignificant. Allison hated that girl.

"Sorry, Andy." Allison finally said, feeling a guilt rise up in her.

Andy looked at her, curiously, "For what?"

"For everything." Allison replied, simply. She shrugged her shoulders, not sure how to explain and for whatever reason, she decided not to say anything about the incident in the bathroom, "Maybe it wouldn't be like this if-"

"Stop, Allison." Andy said firmly, reaching for Allison and giving her a small squeeze on her arm, "It's not your fault."

Allison looked up at him, not convinced, "You've been hearing what people have been saying, right?"

Andy gave her a funny look, "Since when did you care what people thought?"

"I don't care about them, Andy." Allison said with a sigh, feeling frustrated, "I care about you and how it's affecting you."

"You're making me sound like a wimp." Andy said in a hurt voice, but he was smiling.

Allison wasn't amused, however.

"Listen, don't worry. They don't bother me." Andy said, reaching for Allison and giving her a tight hug. Allison wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, as she frowned into Andy's shoulder.

"I need to find Brian." Andy said after a moment, leaning in for a kiss, "I'll talk to you later?"

Allison nodded, kissing him again. She watched as Andy walked away from her and headed back for the school. Allison sighed softly, turned on her heels and made her way toward work, thoughts furiously swirling around in her head.

Andy marched back toward the school, alone, this time. There were still students hanging about, but most of them were removing themselves away from the grounds as the sounds of cars and busses became louder on the streets. Andy turned his head as he crossed the roads, easily making his way past the unmoving vehicles. He was aware of the stares he was still receiving. What hurt him the most was the lack of support he thought he could depend on; his teammates, even his coach were almost to the point of ignoring him. He was happy to quit, but he didn't count on what might happen afterwards.

Still, Andy had also realised he had an even stronger urge-to protect Allison. It was odd how fast the thought had occurred to him, and how very forceful the desire was. After meeting Allison, Andy was exposed to a level he had never known. He found he didn't like the way people treated Allison, he didn't like the way she was practically excommunicated from everyone else. He hated it, in fact. Allison wasn't...normal. She was unexpected with an unbiased honesty. She said what was on her mind. If she didn't like something, she said it, especially if she disagreed with Andy. That was probably his favourite thing he liked about her.

These thoughts loomed through Andy's mind as he made his way into the school, hardly noticing anyone else. He made his way into the library and found the corner Allison described quickly noticing Brian sitting at the table. Brian's head was down and a bit of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, busily writing something down, just as Allison said. Andy smiled to himself. There were three other people that were silently working beside him but he didn't recognise any of them.

"Yo, Brian." Andy said, perhaps a little too happily, "What's up, man?"

Brian looked up at the sound of his name, his face expectant, but then his eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. He did not seem at all pleased Andy was addressing him. Before Andy could say something about this, however, three other faces looked up at him. One, was a tall skinny kid and a girl Andy has seen around a few times- be couldn't remember where, perhaps in his classes. The last face he did recognise and his stomach dropped; it was Larry. What was worse was the face Andy watched change from passive indifference to red with increasing anger and embarrassment.

"Shit..." Andy whispered to himself, slowly placing a hand to his mouth.

Andy watched Larry stare up at Andy, then turn to face Brian, his face a mix of horrified shock and betrayal.

"What the fuck, Brian?" Larry said loudly and accusingly.

"...Larry-" Brian started, taking a quick glance at Andy before looking back at Larry and standing up, guilt clear on his face.

"Stow it, Brian." Larry interrupted maliciously.

Brian closed his mouth and ran his hand through his hair, nervously, as he slowly sat back on his seat. Everyone in the corner watched as Larry stuffed his books and papers and pencils messily into his bag, forcing everything inside as he muttered under his breath, angrily about Andy being the bastard that he was and about Brian, who Larry felt a double-crosser. Andy could also see tears falling down Larry's face as he talked. Larry wiped these away, forcefully.

Andy swallowed, feeling incredibly awkward, his hands moving to his hips. He knew exactly what he did, but Andy never felt the need to apologise to Larry. Why should he? Like everything else, it would be forgotten, but Andy never did think of what it might have done to Larry. Then again, why would he? He never cared before. Andy felt embarrassed for Larry. Andy couldn't help but stare as Larry clumsily got to his feet, his bag still opened, his face still red. Larry then walked around the couches and forcefully pushed passed Andy, almost daring Andy to do something. Of course, Andy didn't.

There was a silence.

"I'll go find him." the girl finally said, standing from her seat. She gave Andy a look, before running out of the corner and after Larry.

"I...me, too." said the other tall kid, standing without looking at anyone. He stepped around the couch he was sitting on and ran after the girl, but not before giving Andy and Brian a curious stare.

Andy bit the side of his tongue, not sure what to do. He slowly walked around the couches, his eyes on Brian. Brian wasn't staring at anything in particular, one hand distractedly twirling his pencil, its lead tip held between his other fingers. He was leaning against his chair, obviously lost in thought. It wasn't until Andy sat down himself across from Brian, that he let looked up and sighed.

"Hey, Andy." Brian said, not sounding particularly pleased Andy had arrived.

Andy paused and blinked at this rather calm statement. Brian was now staring at him, his face strangely expectant, as if nothing had just occurred. Andy raised a thumb and pointed it over his shoulder behind him, unable to speak, "Uh..."

"He'll get over it." Brian said, shrugging his shoulders, slightly, "He's gone through a lot worse then you taping his ass cheeks together."

Andy swallowed and asked softly, "...He has?"

Brian nodded, dropping his pencil on his papers and letting out a sigh. He leaned back against the couch and placed his hands behind his head, "You're surprised?"

Andy felt taken aback. He wasn't sure whether Brian was angry and couldn't tell what he could possibly be thinking. Brian was...different.

"Larry has transferred from three different schools in four years." Brian informed Andy matter-of-factly, frowning, "This is his senior year and nothing has changed. The one thing he wants is to get through his final year without feeling the need to have eyes behind his head."

Andy felt something cold wash over his chest and couldn't say anything.

"He gets called a not-so-clever name, 'Ass-Tape' constantly, and is messed with in the locker room at gym all the time. I'm sure you're aware." Brian continued, sitting up and folding his hands as he looked at Andy, "Larry can't seem to have what he wants."

"S-sorry." Andy said, the only thing he could think of.

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to Larry." Brian replied matter-of-factly, "You started it."

Andy raised his eyebrows at Brian, surprised. Partly because of the guilt that was quickly rising in him, but also because of Brian's lack of timidity that he often displayed in front of the rest of the school. It was almost unnerving how Brian seemed so comfortable in front of Andy; he made eye contact, and Brian didn't hesitate when he spoke. Brian was even blatantly blaming Andy for Larry's misfortunes. Andy had completely forgotten why he was looking for Brian in the first place.

"I'm assuming you need something from me, otherwise, why would you be here?" Brian started, changing the subject after a pause, "Right?"

Andy stared at Brian at a loss for words.

"I know you quit wrestling. Allison told me." Brian replied, giving Andy a small smile. Andy felt uncomfortable and shifted in his seat, feeling a pang of jealousy, but he overlooked it. It was Brian for Christ's sake, "Before we talk about anything, can you do me a favour?"

"What's that?" Andy asked, softly, after a pause.

"Apologise to Larry. And mean it." Brian said, "Get him to forgive you. You're still a popular guy, Andy. With you, it's all the better, isn't? They might even leave Larry alone."

Andy sighed and slowly nodded his head, thinking about it. If he was the decent guy he thought he was, Andy should apologise. Then he shook his head.

"I don't think I'll be that popular for long." Andy said, finally, almost sadly, "Wrestling was what made me popular. Now, that that's gone..."

"Well, is that really what's so important to you?" Brian asked him, seriously. "I've known Larry since I was ten. He's probably one of the most loyal friends, I know. Personally, I think that's more important."

Andy had to admit to himself that being Larry's friend was not the top of his priority list, but he needed Brian's help or at least, his support. Andy felt himself at odds, surreal odds, being in the position he was now in. The person he had often mocked in the past was sitting in front of him, calmly explaining Andy's faults and trying to convince Andy to do the decent thing. Andy never had to be decent. He never had to apologise for anything. He was respected and feared. Now? Now, Andy didn't know where he stood. Andy had also become convinced that if it weren't for Allison, he'd probably never be aware of his own insecurities.

Andy knew Brian was right, though, "So, where can I find him?"

"Here, once he's cooled off." Brian replied, leaning forward again and picking up his pencil, "I really appreciate this, Andy."

"No problem." Andy nodded, feeling something leave his shoulders. He looked at Brian for a moment, "So, how can you help me?"

"How are your grades?"

Andy shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed, "They're okay. I only did enough to stay on the team."

"Now that you're off the team, you're going to have to do more." Brian said, looking at Andy, "Work, I mean."

Andy nodded, not liking how that sounded.

"You were on the wrestling team, so that can certainly help you in the long run, as long as you have a good enough excuse as to why you quit..." Brian narrowed his eyes and stared at Andy questioningly.

Andy didn't say anything and bit the inside of his mouth as he leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms. He was feeling agitated and uneasy.

Brian let out a sigh, then, "Andy, do you even want to go to college?"

Andy looked up at Brian. That was what Allison had asked him and he didn't really have an answer for her either. He didn't really know. What was college to him? Nothing, Andy decided. That was always The Plan; finish high school, get a sponsored sports scholarship, go to college on a full ride. Then what? Andy couldn't think of anything. He wasn't in sports anymore. The Plan was shot.

Finally, Andy just shrugged.

"Well, maybe that's something you should ask yourself." Brian said, placing his pencil back down on table and leaning back in his own chair, "College is expensive and can be really stressful, especially if you don't want to be there."

Andy suddenly had a thought of Gene Parisi from the gas station and shuddered, "I don't want to be working a gas station in a town I want to be as far away from as possible, either."

"A gas station?" Brian asked, looking confused. He frowned, "Look, if you're smart or a hard-worker and determined, you'll get far, but you're the one who needs to decide how much your willing to push yourself. Einstein himself failed out of high school."

"I ain't no Einstein, Brian." Andy replied, looking at him.

"That's not the point." Brian said patiently, "I've seen you at wrestling matches before, Andy. You really pushed yourself to be the best, and you were the best. You need to find that focus again."

"I had to be the best in wrestling, or..." Andy trailed off, not wanting to get into details again. He looked away and stared out the window.

Brian sighed, "Yeah, I know, but now, you have an opportunity to find out what you like and that determination to be the best again will take you far. You have the discipline, you just need to find an interest."

"The only thing I'm good at is wrestling. Sports. I'm such a loser." Andy said angrily, throwing fist on the cushion beside him.

"That sounds like your dad talking." Brian said, staring at him.

Andy knew Brian was right and regretted the words almost immediately, "Yeah, I know."

They sat in silence for a while. Brian was already focused on whatever he was working on before Andy interrupted him and Andy was sitting, staring off in space, wondering if he was going to turn into his father-angry, controlling, aggressive. He turned his attention to Brian, suddenly feeling curious.

"You're different, Brian." Andy finally said.

"Hmm?" Brian muttered, slowly changing his focus to Andy. Comprehension dawned on him and he nodded is head with a sigh, "Decided not to be bullied, anymore."

"How's that going for you?" Andy asked, feeling impressed.

"Some days are better than others." Brian replied, with a small smile. He shrugged, "After this, I'll be onto bigger and better things."

"College?"

Brian nodded, "Yeah. There's so much I want to do. So much I want to see. Can't do that if I stay in Shermer, Illinois."

"Lucky..." Andy muttered, folding his arms.

"You'll find something Andy." Brian assured him, "Don't let anything hold you back."

Claire let out a sigh of relief as she made her way out of O'Hare International Airport and back onto Interstate 90. She took a quick glance to her right and saw her older brother, Emerson. His eyes were closed and his head was leaning against the back of her passenger car seat. Claire smiled, feeling happy. It was really good seeing her brother again. It was difficult for her to hide her excitement, and when she saw him coming out of the gates, she couldn't stop herself. Claire practically screamed his name and ran over to him, nearly tripping over her feet and almost colliding with him. It was all in good fun. Emerson had laughed at Claire's clumsy greeting and hugged her tightly, visibly happy she had arrived. Now, his heavy suitcases were in her trunk and back seats and the two were cruising toward his new apartment.

"So, about this party..." Emerson started from his seat.

Claire turned her eyes on her brother before looking back on the road. She smiled, "Don't worry, it'll be small. Some friends of yours are still in town."

"Ugh..." Emerson moaned, making a small face.

"What?" Claire asked.

"Ah, it's nothing." Emerson replied, yawning and stretching, his eyes red. He rubbed them, "It'll be good see them."

"I can call the whole thing off." Claire started.

"No, no, don't worry about it." Emerson said, shaking his head and looking at her seriously, "I shouldn't be that way. I know they'll ask questions, and I'm not really in the mood to talk to them about that."

"Oh, about Brooks." Claire replied, realisation dawning.

"...Yeah."

"They won't." Claire said. Emerson stared at her and Claire smiled, "I asked them not to."

"That'll be a nice change." Claire's brother said, with a sigh of relief, "Speaking of change. What's going on with you?"

"How do you mean?"

"You." Emerson said, with a smile, "You look different. Your clothes. No make-up, no jewellery. What's going on?"

"Oh," Claire said, smiling, "I even started playing the violin, again."

"Really?" Emerson replied, his eyes wide.

The two of them continued to talk to each other until Claire managed to drive her car into Emerson's new neighbourhood. It was a rather ritzy area, the sort of ritzy area their parents would have lived in had they never had children. Claire parked her car in the appropriate spot in the underground garage and turned of her ignition, pulling her car keys out.

"We're here." Claire said with a smile, reaching into her purse for a set of keys and handing them to Emerson, "This is for you."

Emerson smiled but didn't offer a hand, "Thanks. Hold onto those, for now. There's a shit load of luggage in the trunk, still."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot." Claire said, dropping the keys back in her purse and reaching for her door handle. She pulled her handle and stepped out, her car keys still in her hand.

Claire walked around toward the back of her car and pushed her keys into the trunk's keyhole. With a click, the trunk sprung open and two large black suitcases were waiting silently to be taken out. With a grunt, Emery pulled out one suitcase and then the other and placed them both on the garage floor, echoes reverberating loudly around them. They were the only ones around, it seemed. Only a few cars were visible in scattered parking spots. Claire pushed her trunk down with a loud slam and reached for the handle of one of the suitcases. The two walked together toward the lifts, their suitcases rolling behind them.

"Bet you just want to go to sleep, now, huh?" Claire said, pressing the button of the lift. There was a chime and the doors opened.

"Yeah." Emerson said, not bothering to stifle a yawn (a cool woman's voice sounded throughout the elevator, "9th floor. Please keep hands and feet inside the moving elevator"), "I forgot how tiring travel can be."

"Hmm." Claire answered as the fast moving lift moved away from the garage and up the large apartment building. Behind, the elevator's window showed a spectacular view of Chicago. The doors opened ("9th floor. Have a pleasant evening"), and the two of them stepped out onto the wide apartment corridor.

"What's the apartment again?" Emerson asked, rubbing his eyes with a free hand as he followed Claire.

"918." Claire said. She stopped in front of the apartment door and reached into her purse. She handed it over her brother and smiled.

Emerson took it, smiling tiredly and placed it into the key hole. There was a click as the door opened.

"Sorry, Emery."

Emerson looked at his sister curiously, "For what?"

"Surprise!"

Claire couldn't help smiling at Emery's face turn into complete and utter surprise. He had placed a hand to his heart as Emerson stared at his small group friends that had gathered around him as soon as he walked in the door, all happy to see him. Claire reached for her brother's other forgotten suitcase and with her hands on the handles of both, pulled them inside the apartment and closed the front door. She made her way from the gathered crowd and followed the short hallway to her brother's room and rolled the suitcases in behind her. She could already hear the tink of glasses and the pop of a champagne bottle. Claire stepped out of the room and closed that door, walking back toward the living room.

Claire's brother was surrounded by his old friends, all of them talking to him rabidly and clinking wine glasses of red, white, or bubbly champagne. Emery was looking tired but very happy. He must have missed his friends a lot. Claire smiled softly to herself and walked slowly toward her brother.

"There she is." A portly woman, Shannon, said, her voice booming over the conversation. Shannon reached over for Claire and pulled her toward the rest of the group, giving her a big hug, "This is all her fault, Emery. We didn't even know you were coming. Why didn't you say anything, you naughty dear?"

"Surprise." Emery replied, grinning before sipping his champagne.

"You look dead on your feet, Em." Said another friend, Charlie, giving him a pat on Emery's elbow.

"I'm a little tried." Emery said, "It's been a few stressful months."

"Ah, Brooks." another friend, George, said knowingly. He gasped then and placed a hand to his mouth. Everyone in the room exchanged glances.

"It's okay." Emery said, looking somewhat amused, "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Well, it's a good thing, too." Shannon said, loudly. She moved her large frame around the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the counter, "James had made a wonderful meal and it is to die for."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." James replied, sounding modest, but not at all looking it, "It's just a small thing."

"You must tell us about Washington, Em."

It wasn't long before the small group of friends, Claire, and Emerson were sitting at the dining room table, eating, drinking, and conversing. Claire was smiling so much, her cheeks were hurting. It was another few hours before people started to realise that Emery couldn't very much keep his head up, the alcohol not helping. One by one, the others left, wishing Emery all the best and demanding he keep in contact. Claire was cleaning up the last bit of plates and utensils from the table when Emerson closed the door behind the final guest and let out a large sigh of relief.

"Wow." Claire looked up to see Emery looking tired but pleased and she smiled at him, "I forgot how...lively they are."

"They're just happy to see you." Claire said, walking toward the kitchen sink and placing the plates on the counter beside it, "We hardly communicated, and I'm your favourite sister."

"No, you're right." Emery said, placing his elbows on the counter and leaning on them to watch Claire, "I guess I have been neglecting my personal relationships...Thanks for decorating the apartment. I really like it."

"Anything for you." Claire replied, scrubbing at the dirty plates, "I've gotten into a new phase. I even redid my room. Mom hates it."

Emery sighed, "Thanks for not telling them."

Claire nodded slowly, "Yeah. It's got to be something you have to do, right?"

Emerson didn't answer right away. Claire looked up from her scrubbing and saw Emery lost in thought. His jaw was working before he finally opened his mouth, "Yeah. Eventually."

Claire smiled to herself and continued cleaning.

"So." Claire looked up as Emery spoke to her, "Tell me about this new style you've adapted."

"It's just a change." Claire said with a slight shrug, "Wanted a change. Make decisions for myself for once. Took a long time, huh?"

Pause. "I'm sorry I left."

"Not your fault." Claire said, turning off the faucet and reaching for the folded cloth to dry her hands, "I had to grow up, eventually."

Emery gave a smile, then yawned, "God, I'm tired. I'm falling asleep just standing here."

"Come on," Claire, walking around the counter and reaching for her brother, "Let's get you to bed."

Emery was already snoring by the time Claire had closed her brother's bedroom door. She sighed, feeling happier than she had in a long time. Her brother was finally home. She missed him so much, it hurt. She looked at her watch and realised how very late it was becoming. If she came home any later, it might raise suspicions. Claire gathered her things and made her way out of her brother's new apartment. She locked Emery's front door and walked down the hallway toward the lift and pressed the button toward the lower floor to the garage.

Some 45 minutes later, Claire was in her parent's driveway. She frowned as she parked her car, both her parents were home but so was another car. One Claire didn't recognise. She stepped out of her vehicle and slammed her door behind her. She walked slowly past her car and to the unfamiliar one. It was an expensive black sedan. A jaguar, Claire confirmed as she saw the hood ornament. Shrugging, Claire walked up to her front door and completed the ritual of walking into her home, but not before checking to see if her plants were growing. They were dormant for the moment, now that winter was on its way. She unlocked the front door and stepped in. Her eyes widening somewhat at the decorations.

Claire had forgotten tomorrow was Halloween. Andrea did an absolutely wonderful job. There were large candle-lit pumpkins on each step of the staircase leading to the second floor. Orange and black streamers were ribboned around the foyer and red and black candles hanging from the the high candelabras that decorated the ceiling. Claire was also reminded why her parents never decorated the front of the house. They hated children.

In the silence of the house, Claire's ears perked up when she heard low voices. Claire followed the sound until she reached the dining room toward the back of the house. She heard her mother laugh and the clink of glasses. Claire made her way down the hall and stopped short at the entrance of the never-used dining room her mother uses when certain special guests arrive. Inside, she could see her mother with a wide toothy grin, a bit of lipstick visible on her teeth. Beside her, was Claire's father, looking happy as well. Claire couldn't remember the last time her parents being in the same room and smiling at the same time. Although, they were not looking at each other but across the table toward a large man sitting on the edge of the seat. Three bottles of wine were on the table, two of them were already gone, the third nearly empty.

"Oh, Claire." Belinda had noticed her daughter first. and three heads turned. Edward looked over, his eyes unfocused, his smile drunk as he looked at his daughter and mouthed a "hello". Another man Claire had never seen before smiled and gave a slight nod, his fat face red from the wine. Claire frowned, not really sure about the situation. It was incredibly surreal.

A small smiled wavered on Belinda's face as she looked at her daughter's appearance but overlooked it and waved at her daughter to hurry to her side, "Come here, sweetie, you need to meet someone."

Claire hesitated, staring at her mother for a moment before taking a step forward and standing beside her mother, her eyes still on the stranger, "Who is that, mum?"

"That, sweetheart, is the Dean of Duke University." Claire's father interrupted, is words somewhat slurred. Claire saw her mother five her father a dirty look, but it changes as Belinda smiled at her daughter. Claire sighed and reached over to take the glass of wine out of Edward's hand. She placed it gently against the table, "Thank you, dear. James Taylor, this is my daughter, Claire Standish. James, Claire. Claire, James." Titter, titter.

The portly man gave a chuckle and lifted a hand toward Claire, "Lovely to meet you."

Claire hesitantly reached over and gripped Mr. Taylor's hand. There was brief shake and Claire retreated her hand, "How do you know my parents?"

"Oh, we've known each other for quite a while." Belinda said, reassuringly, before Mr. Taylor could answer, "Your father and James here went to Yale together, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes." Taylor responded with a nod and giving Clair a toothy smile, "As I understand it, you would like to go to Yale, too. Am I right?"

Claire blinked and this new information, her eyebrows furrowing. She looked over at her mother, a drunken beam in her direction. Claire then stared at her father who was taking a sip from his wine class, not seemingly aware of the conversation. Claire finally looked back at Mr. Taylor then at her mother, "For what?"

"Soliciting, of course!" Her mother screamed-laughed into her wine. No, she was holding a different glass, a rock. Mother was already on gin.

Claire frowned, then slowly shook her head, "No."

It was now Taylor that blinked in surprise and was about to say something but Claire's mother interrupted, "Oh, please, Claire, you told me only last week that you would like to follow in your father's footsteps, didn't you? You're so good at writing, right? And God knows you do enjoy a good argument."

"That was Emerson." Claire said loudly.

Her mother ignored this and continued, "You changed your room to such horrid decoration, it's a shame which direction you decided to turn to. It's a cry for help, I know it. And I know exactly what could fix it."

"What are you even talking about, Mother?" Claire asked with a sigh and feeling ruffled, "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Claire, behave." Claire's father started, a small hiccup issuing out of his mouth, "We have company. You know better than that."

Claire sighed, knowing it was impossible to speak to her two drunk parents. Grinding her jaw in annoyance, she gave Mr. Taylor a curt nod and a "goodbye" before giving both her her parents a quick kiss on the cheek and turning on her heels to leave the room. Her mother was calling out to her, but Claire ignored the calls, her hands in fists. She quickly made her way up the stairs and marched to her room. She kicked her door open and stepped in side before slamming it hard. She made her way to her bed and landed heavily face-down into it.

Who does she think she is? Who do they think they are? Claire fumed, My parents? Not good enough. This is merely to get back at each other. How? Claire wasn't sure, but she knew her mother had some underhanded plan. Claire's father was far drunker than his wife. It was obvious at the subtle insults Claire's mother often threw into general conversation. Claire couldn't remember the last time either of her parents hadn't insulted each other behind their backs.

Claire let out a great yawn, her eyelids closing. She felt incredibly tired and sleepy. She hoped Emerson was going to call her tomorrow. She also hoped to see Bender again. Claire had felt very hurt when she saw her small Tiffany earring sitting on the pile of neatly folded clothes. She understood exactly what it meant. Maybe it was for the best. Claire already had loads of misgivings, so why wouldn't the most obvious answer be the best answer? It still hurt her.

Claire had deliberately kept herself busy so she wouldn't have to think so much. It was the nights that were the worst because she had only her thoughts to accompany her. Her face still against her mattress, Claire reached for two pillows, shoved them against the sides of her face and screamed as hard and as long as she could. Out of breath, Claire shoved the pillows away and rolled on her back. She felt better, even if it was only for a few minutes.

This was such a bad idea.

With his friend's baseball bat gripped in one hand, John pulled himself out of the back passenger window of the moving car. Focusing, Bender gripped the bat with both hands now, and aimed for his up-coming target. Gritting his teeth, John pulled the bat back behind him and with a grunt swung as hard as he could. Hearing the satisfying crunch of aluminium, John smiled wildly to himself and heard whooping from inside. He started laughing as he watched the post box also fall to the gravelled pavement, and heard louder noises of joy coming from inside the car. However, the feeling of exultation was crumpled almost immediately and his regret took over. He shouldn't be doing this. This was such a bad idea.

John felt his jacket being pulled and fell back inside.

"God, you're so hot, right now." John turned his head to look back at Heather. Her eyes were twinkling and she was biting her lower lip, a mischievous look on her face, "Wanna do it when we get back?"

"Sure, babe." John said, pushing his hair away from his face from his face and smiling back, "Whatever you want."

"Fuck off, Bender." Harris said beside Heather and pushed John roughly on the shoulder, "You won't do shit."

"Don't worry, man." John replied, smiling at his friend, "No way I'm fucking a girl who's gone through all of Shermer at least three times."

"You are such an asshole, Bender!" Heather yelled, appalled.

"Just being honest." Bender replied, just as he felt a strong fist against his shoulder. "Hey, man! Not cool."

"It's Halloween tomorrow." Matt said from the from passenger seat, looking over his shoulder, his red eyes on John, "Any plans?"

John had made plans, but that didn't mean he was going to be able to do them, but he didn't say anything. He shrugged his shoulders and said instead, "I have to work."

"You're always working, Bender." Kyle said from the driver's seat, "The fuck, man? You haven't partied, in like, months, man."

"Don't worry about it." John said, shortly, "Just shut up and drop me off at the bar."

"Still want me to pick you up?" Kyle asked through his broken window.

"Yeah." Bender confirmed.

A few moments later, John had stepped out of the car and slammed the door to the old corolla. John coughed as the car drove off, dark smoke littering the air. Bender watched the receding car for a moment, his hands deep in in his coat pockets, wishing he had smokes. He sighed before turning his back on the bar and walked away from it. John had decided he needed to keep up with appearances, despite how bad of an idea it was. If he didn't, people would ask questions. John hated anyone trying to pry into his personal life. It's none of their fucking business.

John certainly did have plans for tomorrow. He had planned on taking Mark trick-or-treating. That wasn't going to happen. He hasn't been able to see his brother in almost a month. At least, not legally. Bender managed to find a way to check up on Mark, at least twice a week and for only short periods of time. He had learned most of his neighbours schedules, he already knew his parents. It wasn't enough, though, seeing Mark only twice a week was not enough. What was bothering Bender even more was how healthy his brother was looking. True to her word, Mrs. Williams called her office and had someone come into his parents' house for surprise visits once a week and his parents were certainly keeping up with appearances. It was frustrating. John had more than once told Mrs. Williams he didn't believe Mark was safe, even when she assured John, he was.

John angrily kicked the side of a garbage can that was screwed to the ground. He managed to dent its side and the top went flying. Bender honestly didn't mean to kick it that hard, and the loud clang surprised him. He looked over his shoulder, not seeing any of the police, his panic lessened, but that didn't stop him from rushing from the area; there are always witnesses. He was all about bad decisions today. John wasn't sure what was wrong with him. God, he wished he had a joint.

No, Bender, you don't.

...Right.

John had other things to do. He continued walking, swiftly, wondering if he could possibly convince Mrs. Williams of somehow letting Mark be with him for the night. He had to be realistic, but what else could he do? He made his way down the road and onto the main street and started heading for the Williams's home. It was a long way and Bender had no idea whether either of them were home, but he had to do something to occupy his time or he'd do something stupid, like smash the pumpkins he saw on the stoops of all the houses. He sighed inwardly. He also had homework. He'd almost forgotten.

The list John had made nearly a month ago was getting more and more difficult to fulfil. He didn't realise the amount of loopholes he had to navigate through. First of all, yes, Brian has indeed agreed to help him. John had to admit, even, that Brian was a really smart kid and he was an excellent teacher. And yet, as much as John was trying to accomplish and managing to do, his teachers weren't giving him the time of day. Most of his teachers have decided that what Bender was trying to do was another sort of trick. What, John had no idea. How was doing all the work that was required of him be a way to get out of school? They were actually giving him more assignments than the other students, telling John, if he wanted to graduate, he had some serious catching up to do. It seemed the only one John was able to convince how serious he was, was Carl, then again, Carl knew what John was going through. Bender figured no one else had to know. He couldn't tell his friends, he didn't trust them. Bender doubted they even knew he had a younger brother.

It was also really hard to find a place to live. Yeah, John was 18, now, but if he wanted to start paying rent, he needed to show proof that he could afford it. That was a problem. Bender had been working at the bar ever since he could practically talk and Trish had been paying him under the table, first in sweets but now in cash. Bender has saved that money for almost five years. Probably the only thing his father had ever advised him on correctly was putting all the money he made into a bank. Unfortunately, all the apartments he's looked at required some sort of credit and Bender didn't have that. Not once had he used a debit or credit card. His first thought was to see whether any of his older friends were willing to have a house-mate for cash money rent. But John ended thinking against it; all his friends were tweakers and coke-heads. Not a good environment for him. The only places that were willing to even look at him as a possibility was in the red-light district, same places he was trying to avoid.

Getting a solicitor was probably the biggest joke of all. Det. Williams was sounding less and less sure about any sort of pro-bono willing to help John out, even his wife, who was often incredibly optimistic was looking unsure. Lawyers that might be willing to help Bender were looking for some money. Money, John couldn't afford. In all honesty, Bender was at a loss and he felt completely hopeless. More than once he was close to giving up. It seemed like Mark was doing just fine, now that he was being watched out for, from a third party. It's been a month and it was like the past few year of Mark's very short life never happened.

And yet.

And yet, something wasn't right. John could feel it in his bones, every time he walked past that house. The hairs on his neck and arms would prick up, a weird feeling in his stomach would crop up and he would feel the tension in his jaw. He would have to force himself from grinding his teeth too hard and remind himself that nothing was happening. Mark was okay. Hell, the whole thing might even be psychological-just a reminder of days past. It's hard to get past the shit he's been through.

And yet.

That 'yet' was enough to keep John on the same path he's been following ever since Mark was born. It was thin, but he had to continue. The days were shorter now, and the sun was already dipping below the horizon, slowly, but it was noticeable. Bender walked faster and it was another half hour before he reached the Williams's neighbourhood. He turned a corner and saw Det. Williams's old car sitting in the driveway and made his way past it until he was on the porch and pressing the doorbell.

There was a soft chime, a set of swift footsteps and the sound of a door lock clicking open. There was a creak as the front door opened and there stood Mrs. Williams, a blue apron around her skinny waist and a smile plastered on her face when she recognised who it was.

"Hey, baby," Mrs. Williams said, reaching Bender and giving him a tight hug, "Come on in."

"Thanks." Bender said, his heavy boot making contact with the ground inside the home, "Is your husband around?"

"He might still be the shower." Mrs. Williams said, heading into the kitchen. Bender could smell something wonderful as he followed her, "Have you eaten yet, honey?"

"No, ma'am." John said politely. Mrs. Williams was just one of those who deserved all the respect he could possibly muster.

"You're in luck, then."

John made the usual way toward the kitchen, standing respectfully and waiting for Mrs. Williams to give him the O.K to sit. He turned his head to see what the delicious smell was coming from. On a large hub of the stove was massive pot that had rice, various peppers, and what looked like meat.

"Go ahead and sit, baby," Mrs. Williams said over her shoulder, "there's a glass of milk and orange juice waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Williams." Bender replied, sitting in his usual spot and reaching for the juice. "It smells delicious."

Mrs. Williams made a noise of appreciation and continued cooking. John had already finished the orange juice and was now reaching for his glass of milk, gulping that down just as Det. Williams walked into the kitchen, his hands busy with a watch he was trying to strap around his wrist. Bender watched as he struggled, grunting in frustration. Mrs. Williams saw and went over to help him as he husband planted a huge kiss on her forehead.

"Morning, hun."

"Baby, John is here, remember?"

"Wha...oh." Det. Wiliams turned his head slowly his eyes wide in surprise, but quickly turned to a bit of annoyance as if Bender was a particularly aggravating fly, "Hey, boy. You here, already?"

Bender merely nodded.

Williams sighed and reached for his usual mug for a cup of coffee, "Where you stayin' at, these days?"

"Here and there." Bender replied light with a slight shrug.

"What is 'here and there' supposed to mean?" Williams inquired, reaching for a spoon in a drawer and placing it into his now coffee-filled mug.

Bender didn't want to answer. He couldn't answer, because whatever he would say was unacceptable. John had left his parents before he was 18, and legally, that would mean the Williams's would have to put him with CDC. However, they didn't. They let him off after Bender convinced the couple he had someone he could stay with. Now, this wasn't entirely false: Tess was giving him a place to stay, at least for a bit. The last thing Bender wanted to was overstay his welcome; Tess had a family of her own. So, Bender moved, from friend to friend, all his things fitting neatly in his rucksack. What he didn't want to tell the detective that his 'here and there' were also at his friends, friends that did drugs. Friends that he wasn't supposed to call friends anymore. If Bender got caught, there was no way the Williams would help him anymore. He was pushing his luck and Bender knew it.

"Gene, show his the classifieds from this morning." Mrs. Williams ordered, as she piled food onto three different plates. When her husband didn't answer, she said even louder, "Gene."

Det. Williams was fixing Bender with a very suspicious look over his coffee mug, but he didn't say anything. He reached over to his left and picked up a rolled-up newspaper and said, "Alright, woman."

Bender swallowed as the officer strolled over to where he was sitting and dropped the newspaper in from of him. John picked it up and saw thin pen marks circling certain sections in the newspaper. John followed the paper to the top reading the title "For sale" just as Det. William sat across from him. The mark circled various apartments and houses for rent, all of them asking for a room-mate and all, it seemed, in his price range.

"My wife, has been looking in the paper every week, waiting for just this. Time to get your damn act together, Bender." Williams, said, very sternly, just as Mrs. Williams placed the plates of food on the table. John turned his head to watch as Mrs. Williams reached for her plate and sat down beside Bender, a small smile on her face.

"Hey, boy."

John looked around and saw Det. Williams hard eyes on him, his expression serious and terrifying at the same time. He repeated himself, slowly, "Time to get your damn act together."

"Yes, sir." John dared to feel excited, even if it were only slight, he licked his lips as he looked over the circled homes again, and his heart sank. These places were in good neighbourhoods. Bender was a serial offender, petty crimes, and he looked the part. Who would give him the time of day? Most people would take one look at him and run. Something that he never tried to change, until now, that is.

Mrs. Williams seemed to be able to read his mind, though, and said softly, "Bender, baby, one day at a time. You're not alone in this and you can't think that way, not anymore. One day at a time."

Det. Williams made a snort under his breath, a fork in his hand as he shoved food into his mouth.

"Gene!" Mrs. Williams reprimanded.

"What?" Det. Williams replied, innocently after he swallowed quickly. His wife just gave him a look and he cowered. Sighing, he looked back at Bender, "I know some of those people putting up rooms for rent. I'll vouch." He suddenly put his fork down and pointed a finger angrily at John, "I better not regret this, you understand, boy? Answer me."

"You won't. You won't." John said, swallowing the amount of hope that was pulsing in his throat. He could hardly breath.

"Eat your dinner, John." Mrs. Williams said, "You look as if you haven't eaten in days."

Brian's mother wasn't talking to him. It was oddly alleviating, and a bit surreal. He wasn't sure what to make of it. Although, she was certainly making it very tense throughout the house, not that it was ever comfortable in the house. Every time she walked in the room, every one went silent as she made irritating sighs, barking orders at his father and sister (besides Brian, of course), and slamming objects in any room she went in to. It was irritating to say the least and Brian found himself losing his temper more and more.

He's never had that problem before. He always managed to stay, not calm, but unobtrusive, passive, meek, three things he found himself quickly growing out of. He would like to say it was all Bender's fault, but Brian had to admit, that it was time for a change and the decision has been made. He was growing up and Brian managed to be in a position to see it for what it was; at times lonely, but almost enlightening.

Perhaps, that was his mother's problem: she didn't want her first child growing up. Not that Brian could even talk to her about this. Neither of his parents ever seemed to be in a position to talk about anything serious; girls, bullying, sex. Sex was a big no-no. His mother made it out to be some sort of devil-incarnate recreation, which in a way can be (if one has a very religious up-brining), and Brian's father almost seemed embarrassed at the very mention or the word. No, no, it was impossible to talk to his parents. In any event and Brian's parents's hypothetical relief, he understood the mechanics, he read about it and knew about it, but the experience, well, that was where he was a bit hazy. The only person, surprisingly, Brian seemed comfortable to talk to about it was John Bender.

Bender, now, there was a mystery. Have you met anyone that was really smart but also really stupid at the same time? Bender was smart. He understood things quickly, and picked up on ideas, working really well with his hands. But he was so fucking lazy and this drove Brian completely off the wall. Bender understood something so he didn't want to practise anymore. This went on for several weeks, until Bender suddenly changed. Why, Brian had no idea and John had threatened to pummel him if he ever asked again. John kept himself to himself and Brian had to assume for good reason. He was scary. Brian thought, perhaps the only person that might get through to John was Claire.

That reminded him, Claire had a recital coming up and she had asked if he could be there. Brian wanted to, Claire played really well and it seemed to make her happy. He never knew she could play the violin until he saw her coming into the school one day, holding an instrument case in her hand. Brian had asked her what it was and Claire, almost shyly, replied a violin. She was different, for one she wasn't surrounded by her group of weird, loud friends. Second, her clothes. They were...normal. Claire didn't look as if she just walked off her father 70 metre yacht and on her way to a limo that would take her to a personal jet. Claire still had the illusion of self-entitlement sometimes, which Allison would often poke at, because surprisingly, she's the only one Claire never seemed to get upset with.

Allison seemed like her usual self, but she smiled a lot more and laughed. She still wore her over-sized hood, but she seemed happy, as well. She was meeting with the school shrink less, although, this could be for various reason. Allison never said much about it, except that perhaps it was necessary. Allison was still regarded as a freak, unfortunately, but she seemed to take this in stride instead of shrinking away from it, or encouraging it with even more odd behaviour. The name-calling had lessened somewhat, because Allsions was dating Andy but because he quit the wrestling, team, it almost seemed no one knew how to act around him.

The one thing Brian liked about Andy was his honesty to a fault. As much as he should have hated him, Brian liked him. Andy did apologise to Larry, but Larry hasn't forgiven him so Andy has to suffer for it. Larry hasn't forgiven Brian either, although he can't really tell why any of it is his fault. Andy was still quite popular, but as far has he was concerned, the only people he cared about was the wrestling team. He considered them family and they all but deserted him. They would ignore Andy in the hallways, sometimes, refusing to acknowledge him at all, and he found this difficult to handle. Andy was on a short fuse. He had wrestling to blow off steam, and now he has nothing. Allison was usually the one that could keep his head cool, but she wasn't with Andy all the time.

"Brian!"

Brian looked away from the window he had been staring though for the past half hour. He was sitting on his bed, multiple letters of university acceptance letters forming a circle around him. His mind had wandered from them, although, he couldn't remember the thought that brought him to thinking about his friends. It was hard to believe Brian was able to count the number of friends he had that wasn't on one hand.

"Brian? You up?"

His dad was calling from downstairs, his deep voice booming. Brian answered back, "Yeah?"

"Dinner, son."

"Coming."

Yay, another chapter complete. Hee.
Comments are, of course, welcome, whether I like it or not.

Forgive me, loyal seekers. I did not forget thee, all true in mine heart.
Thine reading is complete, but fear not, for another page shall soon emerge,
not with the lengths of previous, but with shortest time than before.