So, I am back from my vacation and I had a great time while I was gone. :) During that time, I had a chapter written. Additionally, I got someone to beta read this for me, because I thought it was too short, so she helped me out with that. It's still short, but according to Teen-Idol (who was my beta reader this time) she thought it was really good, so hopefully you'll think so too. Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I don't sleep the rest of the night. Mainly because I can't.

It's about four thirty in the morning.

It's like I'm paralyzed and stuck in this state of shock. In my bed, I've attempted to sleep away the rest of the night, but to no avail. Like I said; state of shock.

There are no more ghosts coming into my room. No more flying out the window. No more having my thoughts read aloud. No more being picked up and shoved to the ground. That's the last of them, I'm sure. They're gone now. And what a relief that is to me.

Yet, I still feel so anxious. Why?

Is what all they're saying true? It could all just be a coincidence, right? Maybe Ally, Dez, and Trish are still in Miami – not in New York. Maybe Ally isn't a famous pop star, maybe Trish isn't going into business, maybe Dez really isn't becoming a famous director. Maybe.

Is Bernie even an actual person? What if that coffee shop doesn't even exist? I didn't even get to catch the name of it – I just know where it might be in the Big Apple. And his house too? God, for all I know, that might be a fake, made-up neighborhood.

Would my future really turn out like that? If I really didn't do anything? Would I really be meant to sit in an old alley collecting change in an old can? Is that what lies ahead of me?

The real question now is – what do I do now?

There have been situations in my life where I've had to face...well, a lot of things. So many dilemmas to deal with, and I've had to make decisions that were to either able to benefit me or end up backfiring. So, what was I gonna do? Did those ghosts really expect me to just be able to make such a decision so easily? I had been told once to not over think – that we should, under-think, I think it was. Though, in each situation that I've thought long and hard about, there have been times where the choice stabbed me right in the back. And in other situations where I acted on pure gut instinct, there were still times where the choice I made punches me right in the gut.

But which was worse – getting stabbed in the back or being punched in the gut?

What do I have to do? Go with my gut instinct or sit down and think more about it?

Still having not a clue, I sigh; additionally having no success in finding sleep. I get up from my bed and turn on the lights in the apartment.

My feet lead me to my closet. Digging through all the clothing and spare musical equipment, I manage to find the box I'm looking for. One of the sides on it says: High School Memories.

I sit on the floor, removing the lid carefully as if its contents are ever so fragile. I suppose that to me in this moment, they are fragile. I take out my high school diploma, numerous ribbons, medals, and award certificates. Pictures taken with all of my friends come out too. And at the very bottom of the box, I find another box – the one I'm really looking for. Like the bigger one, it's simply made of brown cardboard. However, this smaller box has black duct tape sealed over the top. I remember sealing it so long ago – it was to prevent temptation from opening it back up, solely because I knew it would bring back too many memories.

I made a vow that day to never dare open it again, but today, I tonight will break that vow.

I use a pocket knife from one of the drawers in my room to slice apart the duct tape. Just as before, I cautiously open up the box. One by one, I start to remove its contents.

First, the whistle. It's the old silver whistle I would wear all the time as a teenager, a charm for good luck. Every day, I would slip this on around my neck, and hope that something decently good would happen every day. Of course, life doesn't work that way, so after a few weeks, I stopped wearing it every day – but still did on the occasion. However, sometimes I would think that the charm worked on the occasional days I wore it, such as the time I walked into Sonic Boom one day with two corndogs...

Second, the harmonica. The day I walked into Sonic Boom with two corndogs, I wanted a harmonica. Though, I didn't have the money, I still pressed the idea that I would one day fly in on my private jet and drop off a bag of shiny gold coins at the store. Eventually, after about a week, the girl who worked at the store gave in to my persistence, and let me keep the harmonica for free.

Third, three guitar picks. The first of the picks is orange – it was one that I had picked up from a jar that said Free Guitar Picks! at Sonic Boom that same day with the corndogs. I used it to play Double Take – the music video that launched me into fame six years ago and changed my entire life for good. The second of the picks is red. I had gotten the pick while I was on my first national tour. Actually, it wasn't me who bought the pick, it was my former songwriter who bought it, and who decided to give it to me. For a long time, that was the pick I used to always play with on guitar, until it went into the box. The third of the picks is gold, and it's one that I had never used. Originally, it was just a graduation gift I had gotten from the same girl and the moment I was about to use it, I noticed the small inscription on the back side of the pick: We are timeless. After seeing that inscription, I managed to drill a hole through the top of the pick, so that I could attach a chain around it, and then essentially wear the pick wherever I went. It was always under my shirt, so it was almost never seen, but it was always there.

Fourth, my old song book. Before I got to write my first successful song on my own, I was given a songbook of my own for help. For a long time, I would never write in it, but came senior year, and I decided to tinker with a few lyrics on my own. I never told anyone about this – not even my former songwriter, herself – about what I had been coming up with, because I wanted to surprise them with the work I would have done. Unfortunately, I never got around to completing a song in my songbook, but it was a token from the past – a memento, and I would not dare to let it go.

And finally, a velvet, blue box. My mom gave me this ring the day before she and Dad went off to their first mattress convention out of many. I never looked inside the box, because I wasn't sure what to expect. She said that it was what it was – a ring. Not exactly an engagement ring, more like a promise ring. I had been told to give it to the girl I would marry someday and I refused at first, since it was so special to my mom, but she insisted that it would be more special to the girl I would essentially give it to. Yesterday, I would have thought that girl would have been Zoey, but that had obviously changed. It would be someone else now.

I look at all the objects that are from the small box and I am not sure what to make of it. What am I supposed to do with all of this stuff? I have broken the vow I have made, but now what? What do I have to do now?

I decide to put all of the contents back inside the little box, though instead of putting that back in the bigger box, I take it with me out of the closet and set it on my bed. I don't bother to clean up the rest of the mess in my closet. I do however take out a new pair of clothes. I slip them on, and after washing my face, brushing my teeth; I had to make pretty sure that I looked pretty decent in the very least. Since the next thing to come out of my closet is a huge duffel bag, I stuffed a few extra outfits inside, the small box of mementos, and everything necessary that I would need for traveling purposes.

I head out of the apartment, making sure that I didn't forget anything to bring. Hopefully, I have everything I need for this next step.

I know exactly what my next step has to be. I know now. I know now what this something is that must be done. I think I finally have everything figured out.

Because, I am Austin Moon.

Austin Moon is not weak, but nor is he strong. He is bold and confident, ready for anything thrown at him.

Austin Moon is not wrong-minded, but nor is he right-minded. He is human and virtuous, but aware that he will make mistakes.

Austin Moon is not who he used to be as a teenager. He will never be that way again, though maybe this time, he will be better than he was before.

I am Austin Moon. I know where I must go. I know what must be done.

I go with my gut instinct – I must go to New York City.