Hellooooooo Happy Summer Everybody! Here is the next chapter!
A few things to explain:
1. the Penderwick sisters aren't a very materialistic or Hollywood focused family (beside Jane and her acting aspirations), so they probably didn't know the exact name of two stars' child (For example, I do not know the names of Angelina Jolie's children). Not only that, but Darcy was all over the tabloids when she was born. The girls wouldn't have been able to even read at that time, and half of them wouldn't have even been born yet! So that's why they didn't recognize Darcy.
2. Everyone is the way they are for a reason. Darcy feels very pressured-the only two people she really trusts are Jeffrey and Monique. She feels threatened by Skye and her family; she's afraid she will lose her friendship with Jeffrey because of them. So she's had a broken past, and I needed it to be different from the sister's-and yet they both still need to understand loss and pressure. But the two girls handle it different: Skye has her sisters and her father, so she feels much more secure and more of a free spirit. Darcy's never gotten past the feeling of abandonment. She has great friends, but she hasn't really let herself accept that yet. So she doesn't have much of a solid base besides the knowledge that people will always have opinions of her, and she retaliates with harsh words and meanness-a bad past does not always make a good person. Darcy is still a huge jerk. However, after reading this chapter, you may see that Skye can start to aid Jeffrey and Monique in helping Darcy get past all that.
THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND YOUR WORDS OF AWESOMENESS. THANKS TO: Jane, Don't Blink (Your metaphor of little and big scars is fantastic! Perfect! You're great!), B, Enors Mist, Tiger25, StardustTARDIS (thank you!) , Tara Firestone (thanks!), ReadWriteEdit (thanks for your support!), daphne, babybeluga747, Nicolenowtiger25, 100cat, Bubbleslovegood, 333, AngelofThought, ShadowedDream, RhaleysRhaleys, Randomsarcasm42, Nicole (Thanks for all your feedback! Your support means so much!), DevotedReader, elle, Sailheart, Rachel Alexandra 9, I am Athena daughter of Zeus, StarLoveGCW, and my many Guest readers!
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It really was the perfect day to be outside. The sky was clear and the sun warmed the air as Jane walked through the cool shadows of the giant, majestic trees populating Arundel.
"Oof!" Jane grunted as her boot hit yet another log she was trying to step over, sending a small shock through her foot and up her leg. The stupid thing was clunky and annoying and Jane missed being able to feel the soft grass between her toes, but at least the boot kept her ankle relatively immobile and allowed her to walk at a good pace.
Unfortunately, and as the doctor had fervently reminded her, the boot did not mean Jane could run. Or play soccer. For three weeks.
Jane sighed. It was going to prove very complicated to dance at Jeffrey's party the next night.
Jane clutched her worn blue notebook to her chest and continued forward. Ahead, the lake sparkled and the leaves of the surrounding trees waved gracefully in the wind. Jane loved this spot; it was quiet, peaceful, and full of life. Perfect for a writer.
As Jane neared her favorite spot on the bank, whistling under her breath and relishing the feeling of the breeze on her neck as it blew back her curls, she noticed somebody was already sitting there.
Jane abruptly came to a halt. Harold, the slight Asian boy who had—as they all knew—unfairly refereed the soccer game, sat cross-legged with what looked to be a thick textbook in his lap. Jane didn't know much about Harold, but she believed strongly in second chances and hidden depths, so she made a split second decision and strode up to the boy.
He didn't seem to notice her approach and started when she sat down next to him on the bank, facing the water.
"Hello," she greeted cheerfully. "Sorry if I scared you. I'm Jane, if you forgot."
Harold's ears turned red and he shifted nervously. "H-hi."
"You're Harold, right?"
He nodded. Harold moved his arms to cover his book in a manner that was probably supposed to be inconspicuous, but instead just drew Jane's attention.
"What are you reading?" Jane asked, leaning over.
Harold closed the book, his hand covering the title. "Nothing."
Jane scoffed. "Of course it's not nothing! It's a book, isn't it?" She gently pried his hand away from the cover, and discovered that she was right—it was a textbook. "The Science of Pathogenic Tagging and Defense: Disease and Immunity," Jane read. She looked up in confusion. "A science textbook? Why are you reading a science book?"
Harold sighed and his shoulders sagged. He turned the book over in his lap so Jane could only see the back of it. "That's what everybody says," he muttered.
"Oh! Oh no!" Jane said quickly. "I didn't mean to offend you. I think that's really neat. I mean . . . wow," she breathed. "I'm impressed. Skye's really the science sister—you remember Skye, the blonde? The one who likes to yell? Well, anyway, I'm more of a fiction person. There's just no creativity or imagination in science."
"Quite the contrary, actually." Harold's eyes brightened as they neared familiar territory. He turned to face Jane. "To really discover anything in the science world, the scientists have to create complex experiments designed to isolate specific cells or chemicals if they want their experiments to have the desired effect. It's really a fantastic combination of creativity and logic. And then to form theories, most scientists just have to take what they know and try to come up with reasons for everything. So I would say that takes imagination."
Jane nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting." She cocked her head to the side. "But I thought you went to an arts school?"
"I do," Harold agreed. "My focus is actually painting. But I also take every science class I can fit into my schedule."
"Wow. Cool," said Jane. "How do you know Jeffrey?"
"His room is next to mine," Harold said simply.
Jane hesitated before asking her next question. "And Darcy?"
Harold bristled and looked down again. "I don't know her too well actually. I'm friends with Jeffrey, and she's friends with Jeffrey, but we don't actually have a whole lot in common besides that. She's very . . ."
Jane could think of many words Skye would say to finish that sentence: proud, snobbish, jealous, mean, rude, deceiving.
"Exclusive," Harold decided. Ah, Jane thought. A Queen Bee.
"Skye said you and Darcy were talking before the soccer game," said Jane, choosing to not mention the actually happenings of the game, which could make for a very awkward conversation. "What were you talking about?"
Harold didn't say anything for a moment, and instead just watch a frog jump off a nearby rock and plop into the water, diving down into the sanctuary of the cool depths.
"I'm a pretty quiet person, if you didn't know," he finally said, and Jane jerked to attention. "Darcy always has a lot of friends. The teachers love her. She—she said she'd let me into her friend group and invite me to her family's parties if I agreed to ref the game so that, you know, she'd win. And she said if I refused, or I didn't do it, she'd tell everyone at school that I picked my nose in my sleep and I wear no clothes when I'm in my room—which I don't do, by the way." He glanced over at Jane to make sure she believed him.
"She'd actually do that?" Jane asked, disgusted and a little horrified. She knew Darcy wasn't a nice person—despite her harsh past and the fact that Monique and Jeffrey insisted on not giving up on her—but it was hard to believe she would sink that low. And just for a summer soccer game!
Harold nodded. Jane's sympathy for Harold was stronger than her disgust at his bid for popularity. He looked pretty uncomfortable, but before she could come up with something to say, he noticed her notebook. "What's that?" he asked.
Jane beamed at him. "I thought you'd never ask."
She launched into the description of Sabrina Starr and her various rescue missions. This was one of her favorite topics, and Harold kept up with her the entire way, seeming very interested. With each question he asked, the more Jane grew to like him and his company. They discussed the new book she was writing and how it would be hard for Sabrina to work with others like her at first, but then grow to become friends with them and lead their group. When Jane said she still hadn't decided on where Sabrina and two of the heroes would be when they woke up from their deep sleep induced by snake poison, Harold said, "How about China?"
"China," Jane thought, testing the word. "Alright. I like it. Now give me description."
Harold gave her details, and Jane scribbled furiously in her notebook. Sabrina and her friends would wake up on the top floor of an abandoned building, and they'd have to escape to the roof to use telephone pole wires to move to the adjacent buildings while looking out for guards in the square bellow. Jane paused, her hand cramping, and leaned back to look at Harold. "Are you from China, Harold?"
"Yes," he said, and Jane could hear the slight lilt to the word because of his accent. "My parents moved to America soon after I was born. But a few years ago, my grandmother became very sick."
"I'm so sorry," Jane said quietly.
"I wanted to go back with my parents, but they insisted I would get a better education here in a America. And, besides, they did not have enough money to buy an apartment for all four of us in China. They made me apply to Wellborn-Hughes, and when I was accepted they signed me up. I wanted to go with my family, I did not want to be left alone—but it was not my choice. Don't misunderstand me; I am not ungrateful. It's just that I see my family only once a year and I miss them. I have learned to not undervalue my time with them. But the school is fun and I am lucky to have Jeffrey—he is a good friend." Harold seemed to become suddenly aware that he was telling a random girl his life story, and looked at the ground, his face red.
With each word, Jane's heart sank a little further. Harold could see his family only once a year because they chose to send him to a school in a different country. Jane sensed that he missed his family terribly and would do almost anything to get back to them, but wanted to make them proud at the same time.
"Jane?" Harold brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"
"Hmm?" Jane asked, distracted. "Yes, I'm just . . ."
Then what was she doing? She was trying to get away from home early, to start an early career, to put her name in the books. She was leaving everything she loved behind, for a school with just one class she wanted to attend. No, no—she wouldn't do that. Harold couldn't see his family when it wasn't his choice, and she was about to choose to leave hers behind for a class that she could probably attend in her town. No, she'd stay at home with her family and finish middle school in Cameron. She'd develop her writing skills and become a real writer just a little later than planned. Like in high school.
Or maybe she'd just attend a program over the summer instead.
"Jane?" Harold asked again, looking worried.
Jane cleared her head and smiled at him. "I want to be a writer, but I think I'm going to wait a while before I do a program at a boarding school that's kind of far from my family."
Harold nodded, looking a little surprised at her sudden statement. "So you'll stay home for a little longer, then?"
"Yes, for a little while, probably."
"Before you go chasing your dreams?"
Jane's smile broadened, "Oh, I'm already chasing my dreams. Dear Harold, that started a long time ago."
o~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~o
Skye walked slowly across the dark lawn. Crickets chirped and the fireflies joined the stars and moon in giving light to the darkness. Skye breathed in the damp air, and half-hoped that Mrs. TD or Dexter would see her walking across their front lawn and send her back to the cottage.
Skye had no such luck, however, as her sisters had made sure she wore black clothes and her hat to cover her blonde hair. Skye reached the base of the tree in front of Jeffrey's window unnoticed. The ladder still hung from the branch Skye had pulled it down from earlier that day, when she'd come by only to find that Jeffrey had been dragged out of the house by his mother to go buy new clothes for his birthday party.
Skye placed her foot on the first rung and began to climb toward the glowing window up above her. She was about halfway up when a sudden trill of notes sounded from inside the room. Someone had begun playing the piano, and Skye knew exactly who it was. The music carved through the silence and reached Skye's ears as she strained to hear every note, every harmony. Was it a ballad being played? Or was it a waltz? Skye couldn't remember the difference.
She continued up the ladder, more quietly than before. At the top, she sat on the branch and saw that, yes, it was Jeffrey playing the piano. His head was bowed, his eyes closed and his brown hair falling over his forehead. His fingers moved across the keys quickly and with a confident grace. He looked content and at peace, swaying slightly to the music.
As he played, Skye noticed the window to his room was slightly raised. She could probably get into the room if she could just balance and not fall. As Skye rose to her feet on the branch, her heart beat a little faster and her muscles tensed just as they did before a soccer game. Jane's voice came into her head, commenting on the height of the tree and the length of the ladder two years before. Skye smiled and leaned forward.
Her hands hit the brick wall above the window. Her breathing was short and fast as she quickly brought one foot to the window ledge, straddling the air. She glanced up. Jeffrey was still absorbed in his music, oblivious to her presence.
Skye knelt down slowly, slowly, balancing on the ledge and the branch, hoping her feet wouldn't slip. She slid her hands under the window and gripped the cold metal. Skye pulled upward. The window didn't budge. She steeled herself again and yanked. The window slid up. Skye breathed a sigh of relief, and moved both of her feet to the ledge, hands gripping the sides of the frame. She jumped inside the room and landed in a crouch on the carpet. She leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. A slight smiled crossed Skye's lips at her small accomplishment.
But as she stood up, Skye accidently knocked a lamp off the desk and it crashed to the floor.
Rats. Skye felt just like Jane.
Jeffrey whirled around. When he saw Skye, who was frozen in place, torn between acting like it hadn't happened and jumping out the window, he said, "Skye?" His expression was one of confusion and shock. "What are you doing? How did you—ah." He had noticed the open window. There was an awkward silence.
Jeffrey looked back and Skye, and, thank goodness, a small grin appeared on his lips. Shaking his head, he said, "Why didn't you just knock?"
"I didn't want you to stop playing. I'm memorizing everything I hear so I can play it at your party."
After a pause, Jeffrey smiled and patted the bench next to him. "I think you'll need some lessons first."
Skye scoffed. "As if. It comes naturally to me." She sat down next to him.
"I seem to remember you using your 'natural' talent two summers ago. It was a disaster," Jeffrey said, trying not to laugh.
"Please. I was just trying to make you feel better about yourself. My music will break your heart." Skye shook out the tension in her hands, just as she'd seen Jeffrey and Batty do, and laid them careful on the piano.
BANG. CRASH. TRILL. BOOM. "Stop! Skye! You'll wake everyone up! Skye!" Cringing and laughing, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them back onto the lap.
Skye grinned. "We never did get to the chord of E minor, did we?"
"No, we didn't, and I'm not sure I want to hear you play it."
"Too late."
She reached for the keys again, but Jeffrey blocked her arms, and Skye overbalanced and fell backwards off the bench, laughing. Jeffrey looked down at her. "I don't think piano's right for you. Maybe we should try a different instrument?"
"I think I have proved my music skills are severely lacking."
"I have faith in you. Maybe you should take up clarinet again?"
"No. You will beg me to pull off your ears. I don't want that blood on my hands."
Jeffrey laughed. "Fine. You win. For now." He joined Skye on the floor and they both lay down, staring at the ceiling. Skye could almost imagine they were eleven again.
After a moment, Jeffrey said quietly, "Does this mean you're still angry at me?"
Skye sat up. "At you?" Skye shook her head and took a deep breath. "Jeffrey, I'm the one who you should be angry at. I lost my temper and blamed you and that wasn't right. You're just trying to make everything right and I've been ungrateful and I'm sorry. You're still my best friend. Penderwick Family Honor, I swear. Can you forgive me?"
He searched her face with a quizzical expression, trying to find something in it. He must have found it, or maybe he didn't, because he nodded slowly and said, "Of course I can, Skye. And I'm sorry too. I'm—I'm really glad you're here." The last part he said very softly.
Skye gave him a small smile. "Good. Me too."
Jeffrey nodded again and then a sly smirk appeared on his face. "So, does that apology of yours mean I can tell you what to do for the rest of vacation? Like, if I asked you polish my shoes or make my bed, would you do it? Or how about entertain me with some music? Oh wait." He nimbly avoided Skye's punch and laughed.
"Well, this looks fun," a dry voice said from the doorway. Skye and Jeffrey turned around.
Jeffrey straightened. "Hey, Darcy. Come on in."
"Oh, it's okay. I'm just hurt I wasn't invited to the party." Darcy crossed her arms and pouted her lips, her expression one of perfect innocence.
Jeffrey glanced at Skye. "It's not a party. We were—"
"Actually, I came to see you, Darcy," Skye said, raising her chin.
Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Me? Alright, what do you want to say, Skye?"
Skye took a deep breath and said, "I wanted to apologize." Jeffrey's expression was wary, but Darcy seemed surprised. Skye rushed on before she could lose her nerve. "I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday. It was uncivilized and not gentlemanly. I should not have judged you the way I did without knowing the whole story. You were right; I did jump to conclusions. I'm sorry if I've made it hard for you here; I was . . . surprised and confused. So I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me."
Skye desperately wanted to look at the ground now that her speech was over, but she forced herself to hold Darcy's gaze. Darcy's brow was furrowed and her head tilted to the side. She seemed to be thinking hard. Finally she said, "Alright, Skye. You finally came to your senses. I accept your apology. Now, I'll just go—"
"No." The words came out of Skye's mouth before she could stop them.
Darcy turned back around. Her eyes narrowed. "What," she said slowly, "did you say?"
"I said no. That's not right. Now it's your turn." Skye was adamant; she refused to be treated like this. Darcy may have had a rough past, but that was no excuse to be rude and judgmental and a spoiled bully. Skye felt hot anger in the pit of her stomach, but ignored it. If Skye could hold back her pride, then Darcy could suck it up and do the right thing, too.
Darcy looked bemused and bewildered, as if no one had really talked to her like that in a long time. Her eyebrows rose farther and farther up her forehead, and Skye vaguely wondered if they would just go right off the top of her skull. Darcy scoffed and threw her hands in the air. "Fine," she said. "Fine, Skye. What in the world do I have to apologize for?"
Before Skye could say anything, Jeffrey interrupted. "For pushing her away and being rude to her all this time, Darcy. For not even trying to understand. For cheating during the soccer game and talking about their mother. C'mon, Darcy, what's gotten into you? Stop doing this."
Skye looked at Jeffrey. He wore a determined expression and stood right by her side, looking straight at Darcy. A balloon of joy was expanding inside Skye's chest, filling her with a triumphant pride and happiness. This felt right; the two of them together, side by side. This felt familiar. They were okay, their friendship wasn't gone after all.
Darcy glared at Jeffrey. Neither seemed willing to back down, and it really could have gone either way, but eventually Darcy rolled her eyes and grunted in annoyance. "I think your over exaggerating, Jeffrey. I didn't do any of that stuff."
"Yes, you did. You know you did, Darcy. Quit judging like this."
"Judging? Well, Skye did. And I don't really think you have the right to judge either."
"Me? What? Darcy, I know you better than anybody! I know you're a better person than this."
"Oh, so you're taking her side?"
"That's not what I said!"
Skye felt like she was watching a battle, but with words instead of bullets and emotions instead of grenades. Darcy seemed to be breathing hard and Skye noticed a trace of betrayal and—could it be?—a crumbling resolve behind her eyes. And, yet, as quickly as she'd seen it, it vanished. Darcy's face closed off again, angry and disbelieving.
"Everything I said was just the truth. Everything," Darcy said stubbornly.
"What about my mom?" Skye interjected, her voice a low whisper. "You know nothing about her."
Darcy crossed her arms again and leaned against the doorframe, a look of pure ease and nonchalance, despite her splotchy cheeks. "What about her? I just told the truth."
"Darcy!" Jeffrey cried. He looked anxious and torn. "Skye's mom—she's—"
"Dead," Skye said flatly. "She's dead."
The room went silent. Darcy paled and her expression became one of shock. One hand moved slowly to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. "I—I had no idea. I—God, I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known, I just—"
Darcy broke off, and her knees seemed to buckle. She slid to the floor, staring at nothing. This was a completely different girl than the one Skye had seen screaming a moment ago. Skye and Jeffrey shared a glance. Jeffrey briefly squeezed Skye's arm, and then he moved to sit against the wall next to Darcy while Skye sat across from them.
After a moment, Darcy asked in a daze, "How much did Monique tell you?"
Skye felt a spark of surprise. "Everything."
Darcy nodded, still looking at the ground. Jeffrey's eyes were moving rapidly between both of the girls.
"How did you know?" Skye asked, curious, her eyes narrowed. Had Darcy been spying?
Darcy's laugh was bitter and breathy. "Don't worry, I wasn't spying on you or anything." Oh. "I didn't want to be anywhere near you right then. I'm kind of a sore loser, to be honest." She glanced up guiltily, and then went back to talking to the floor. "And I figured she would tell you—Monique always knows the right thing to say to people. And I also figured that you wouldn't be here to apologize unless—well, unless you knew the truth."
Darcy's voice was almost a whisper, and Skye had to listen carefully to hear every word.
Jeffrey was as still as a statue. He sat stiffly and said, "Darcy, we don't have to talk about this right now. We can—"
"Yes, we do, Jeffrey," Darcy sighed.
She looked up at Skye, and smiled slightly. "You have a lot of nerve, Skye," she said, respect in her voice. "Most people either try to avoid me or suck up to me because of my parents. It's always about how my parents will react. But you never knew about any of that and I kind of didn't want to tell you."
Skye felt a pang of annoyance. "So this was all just a game?"
Darcy shook her head. "No, I'm not saying this right. When I came to Arundel, Jeffrey told me a family was coming. I thought it was going to be an old couple, or someone with toddlers, so imagine my surprise when you came running up the driveway. I was just as shocked as you were. And on top of that, your family has known Jeffrey for longer than I have." Darcy looked at Jeffrey, who was staring at his hands.
"You two are so similar," Darcy continued, and Skye saw Jeffrey smile down at the ground. Something inside her chest soared. "I wasn't really sure what to think—only that maybe the only reason you and I are friends, Jeffrey, is because of our . . . fractured . . . families." Jeffrey raised his head.
"That's not true," he told her. "That's not true and you know it."
"But I thought it was true. And I wasn't really sure what to do about it, only that maybe I had to try to be—to be better than her," Darcy said. She looked at Skye. "You don't know what it's like to be a side option, Skye." Her words were hard and sad. "You don't know what it's like to be—be pushed away because people hate each other so much. And you don't know what it's like to be the center of all these expectations. Don't say you do—" Darcy warned when Skye tried to interrupt. "You come along with a loving family and smart comments and gorgeous hair and good soccer skills and an awesome friendship with Jeffrey and now I find out that you lost your mom and you're—you're okay. How do you do it?" Darcy's voice was shaking and quiet, and her cheeks were wet.
"I don't remember much about her, to be honest," Skye said softly. She touched Darcy's leg in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Was that the right thing to do? Skye was never very good with crying people.
Darcy gave Skye was could've passed for a grateful smile, and then started again after hiccupping a few times. "One thing my—my family always taught me was if you're not the top, then get out of the game. They are the t-top of their group, and they expect me to be, too. You and your sister are soccer s-stars, and I'm good, but not like you. So what else was I supposed to do? I had to win." Skye felt a bubble of anger and disgust, but pushed it back down as Darcy continued. "But it wasn't just that," Darcy continued, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "You're good at everything."
"Not everything," Skye said, trying for modesty. Jeffrey glanced at the piano, and gave her a small grin.
"There's n-no way I can be like you. You were going to push me right out of Jeffrey's life and his summer," said Darcy. She laughed a little through her tears. "You and your family are all he can talk about."
"That's not true," Jeffrey protested immediately. Darcy rolled her eyes and winked at Skye.
"Anyway," Darcy said, "You're right. I was jealous. I kind of still am," she admitted, her face flaring. "I've just gotten so used to being put on a pedestal and people's expectations that I thought you were just another team to beat, someone else in the competition." Skye made a mental note to thank her father for raising her with better morals than Darcy had. "But you're not like that," Darcy continued. "You're a good person, Skye. I was stubborn and wrong. I'm sorry."
Skye looked Darcy squarely. She nodded. This was what Skye had come for. Now they had both fulfilled their roles.
Darcy took a shaky breath and stood up. "Well, there's your apology, Skye. I need to go get my beauty sleep for tomorrow, so . . . see you around." She gave them both a small, genuine smile and then slipped out the door.
Jeffrey blew out a long breath, sounding relieved. "Thank goodness that went well."
Skye joined him in leaning against the wall, feeling the dread and tension that had been constant for the past week and a half lift off her shoulders. "I know. It could've been way worse."
Jeffrey glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, you could've tried to serenade her with your piano skills." He snickered and rolled to avoid her punch.
"Just wait for your birthday," Skye warned, standing up. "Maybe I'll take back that hat I gave you."
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would." Skye smiled slyly.
"Maybe I'd have to do this then." Jeffrey's arm shot out, reaching for her own hat, but Skye was too quick. Laughing, she ducked under his arm and slid out onto the windowsill. She hopped onto the branch, feeling much lighter leaving than she had entering.
"Sorry about that lamp, by the way," she said, gesturing with one hand to the shards on the floor. Jeffrey looked like he was debating whether or not to tell her to get out of that branch because he was worried. Or maybe just so he could tackle her. Skye wasn't sure which.
Nevertheless, before he could say anything, Skye winked at him. "See you tomorrow, birthday boy," she said, and scampered down the ladder. She had a lot to tell her sisters.
Woah that was a long chapter. :) Any questions just PM me or put them in the reviews! And if you have any good ideas for polls or fan art, just let me know-I would love to hear about it.
I've planned out a total of 16 chapters for this story, so if you can do math, that means four more chapters. Anything can change though and it may become 17 :)
THANKS FOR ALL YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT AND SUPPORT. I love to write and you are helping me gain confidence. I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy the story. Please keep reviewing! Makes my day! I read them all!
Keep having an awesome summer.
Shine on and Rock on
xxShastafirexx