December 13th
I did it. I went to the ball and I danced with Sonic and . . . and he kissed me.

Which made me realize that I'm still in love with him.

Fuck.

How is it that one damn boy can cause you so much pain?

And why are boys so stupid?

. - + * + - .

Next afternoon I was laying on my bed, running my hands through my newly cut hair, with memories of last night flooding into my head. Just before I came home, Lindsey took me back to the salon. We spent the twenty bucks Alana gave me to cut my hair to the middle of my chest, wash it until it was pink again, and put red highlights in it. If anyone had any suspicions about my being there, they would be wiped clean.

I closed my eyes and felt Sonic's arms around me . . . his lips on mine . . . again and again. Somehow I can't believe all it took was not seeing me for two years and a change of hair for him to not recognize me. Sonic's sharper than that.

At the foot of my bed lay my scrap book from when I was twelve. I had flipped through the pages, staring at the pictures I took of us and the doodles I made in notebooks. Today I added a few new ones that Lani and Danielle took for me; pictures of Sonic and I, dancing, talking, laughing, kissing.

Someone had barged up the stairs. I hurried to slip the scrap book under a loose floorboard under my bed. I flopped back down as Alana stormed into the room. She walked straight to me, raised a hand, and TWACK! A big, pink patch appeared on my cheek and I fell off of my bed. She growled and walked to her side of the room, tearing down every sign of blue quills she could reach and stuffed them into a garbage bag.

I groaned and lifted myself from the floor. Stupid Alana; she always hurt me in some way when she was angry. Dragging myself onto my bed, I saw her sneer at me as she stuffed the last Sonic artifact into the bag, "What are you doing in here anyway?" she growled.

"My bedroom too, ya know," I retorted weakly.

"Whatever," she said. She dropped the trash bag outside the door and settled herself on her bed, taking her phone out and dialing a number.

"Why are you taking all your Sonic stuff down?" I asked.

That triggered a memory.

One night, two years ago, tears fell rapidly down my cheeks as I tore all my pictures off the walls. I knew Sonic wouldn't be coming back. He'd been gone for a year now. My bedroom door clicked open and I wiped the water from my eyes.

"Your turn to feed the chickens," Alana told me, leaning up against the doorframe. She wore overalls and a light blue shirt with her hair in a ponytail.

"Okay," I choked, turning back around. She caught my shoulder and gently twisted my head toward her.

"Amy?" she asked. I sharply took my head back and flopped down on my bed. She took in my now vacant walls, "Why'd you take all your Sonic stuff down?" she asked.

It took me a lot of guts and a while to answer, "I hate him,"

She laughed, "No you don't,"

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't, Amy. You love him,"

I gave up, growling, "So what? He left me!"

She sat on my bed beside me, "What happened?"

"He left," I choked, "Just plain dropped out of Station Square. Didn't say goodbye of anything. He only talks to Tails and its once every month,"

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "He'll be back, and it'll be because of you,"

I sobbed.

"Hey, hey, listen," she whispered, pulling me onto her lap as a new wave of tears captured me, "He WILL come back. He always comes back. Remember when you came back from Earth? He didn't come back for weeks and then suddenly he's there, outside your door," she reminded me. The memory had made me sob harder, "He always comes back, Amy. You're his best friend, why wouldn't he come back?"

"Because he'll be dead, or decide he likes Europe better, or he'll find some hot European girlfriend," I cried.

Alana rolled her eyes at my dramatic answer, "Amy," she lifted my chin up so I could look at her, "Think about it. Where is he every time he comes back?"

I thought about it, and the answer was by my side. The more I thought about it, the more she was right. Every time he came back it was because of me.

I smiled up at her, "Thanks, sis," and hugged her.

Of course, that was a different life. A different home. A different me. And certainly a different Alana. Little did I know at the time that Alana was keeping in touch with Sonic. She was sending him letters, text – messages, emails, and calling him 24/7. And after she turned into . . . that . . . she always said he'd come back for her and no one else.

Traitors. Both of them.

"None of your business," she screeched. But of course, she couldn't help talking about herself, so she sighed and said, "I caught him kissing some trampy brunette last night,"

Oh. Shit.

"At the ball?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, he was dancing with her and talking and laughing and then he was making out with her on a bench near midnight,"

I wasn't making out with him! And was it really near midnight? God, now I did feel like Cinderella.

"B-but I thought you two broke up," I hoped she'd take my tone for mild curiosity.

She put her phone down and narrowed her eyes, "Where'd you head that from?"

I gulped, "Rumor 'round school,"

She looked back at her phone and kept dialing, "No, we weren't broken up. But now we are,"

Shit! Shit! Shit!

After a minute she pressed her phone to her ear and rose from her bed. Alana walked out of the room, muttering, "Stupid asshole," as she closed the door.

I leapt for my cell and dialed Shelby's number.

"Hello?" she answered.

"I'm dead!"