Things are getting better.

Bit by bit, of course. Progress never goes by fast enough. But it's happening.

Since his visit, I've managed to track down Fuel, and showed him the EB file. I weathered through his appropriate reactions and an overbearing hug, and he's since been on an extra dose of cheerfulness around me, if that's even possible, in his way of showing support. That's what I love about the guy. He doesn't feel the need to put on a super serious face to show he cares.

But I haven't been able to bring myself to tell Paula yet. I managed to barely, barely appease her with vague explanations of not sleeping well, but I didn't tell her the full truth.

I'm not sure why, honestly. She's my girlfriend, shouldn't she come first in the trust list?

Maybe it's because she's my love… maybe it's because I don't want to see her reactions… I don't know… it's hard to explain when I myself am not too sure what's going on in my head.

In a way, I feel like too many people know already, and I'm afraid that the news might leak out. I really hope I can trust my friends with this, even if I childishly feel like it's a bit unfair that they've managed to pull the truth from me when I was determined that they couldn't understand or help my situation.

And really, they're not trying to make it seem like they can relate to the horrors that baby Ness went through. They know it's one thing to read about people being physically mutilated and psychologically worn down, and another thing entirely to go through it. But they're always on standby it seems, to catch me whenever I seem ready to fall back into the nightmarish darkness.

That's all I can ask for.

The nightmares aren't stopping though. I still wake up with the aftertaste of the vivid memories. And more than once I found myself wishing things could go back to when the nightmares were nothing but darkness that I can't remember. If I had known it would be so much worse, I wouldn't have tried so hard to clear up those terrible dreams that keep me from sleeping.

It's not a complete terror story though. Tracy has occasionally taken it upon herself to come over to my room in the middle of the night and share the bed with me, and those are the nights that I can be sure the nightmares won't come haunt me. I've also taken to dragging my blankets downstairs and sleeping on the couch, which for some reason helps a bit. Maybe it's to help remind me that I'm not there. Not anymore.

I haven't thrown up once since. Not to say I haven't come close though.

I've been forcing myself to look at my own face in the mirror. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, kind of like how people are conditioned to never try to touch fire, no matter if others claim it won't burn. Doesn't that just sound completely asinine though, afraid of your own reflection now when you have been looking at it for years before without a second thought.

I find myself thinking about how I went from normal, average as hell, happy-go-lucky teen, to… whatever you want to call the psyched out mess I am now. Sometimes I'll contemplate whether I made a mistake in stealing that folder from my parents' room's drawer. Whether I'd be better off never knowing what I know now.

I remember back to a conversation with Lucas in the desert.

But… yeah. I really believe things are getting better. Now more than ever, I'll need to keep positive, and get through this stage of life.

But sometimes… sometimes I'll walk past Tracy's room and see that sign still hanging outside her door. And I'd wonder if where I am is where I should be.

I'm maintaining civility towards mom, but I haven't been giving her the energetic attention I used to give her. I think she realizes this too, because for a few days after I recovered from my… erm… episode, she'd been going out of her way to try and get me to talk to her, whether it be giving me excess chores, or just visiting my room every now and then. Eventually, when I stubbornly remained distant, she stopped.

Now we barely talk to each other.

And I wonder just which one of us is the one that's supposed to be suffering from it.

Dad hasn't called us either, nor have we been able to reach him. Of course, mom's quick to remind me that he has a demanding job and all that.

I have to keep bringing up my memory of visiting his office to convince myself he does care. Somewhat.

Last dinner, when we had steak, and mom, as per family inside joke/tradition, put our home phone on the table to make it seem dad's still included, I basically snapped at her, telling her how childish it looks to put a freaking electronic device on the table to surrogate for a person who should be here more often. This, of course, prompted her to vehemently defend her husband, which lead to another rather large argument between the two of us.

This is the second one we've had in a week.

And the third we've had in 4 years.

…

Things are getting better. Just keep my head up, stop thinking about that stuff all the time, and keep going on with life.

-01210-

The bell rings, and all the students dutifully scramble for the door like rampaging bad buffaloes. As I calmly walk out (feeling good that I'm of a bit classier variety than rampaging bad buffaloes), what seems like a newspaper is shoved into my hands.

I frown as soon as I recognize it as the Onett Owl.

The headline:

'IS THE SCHOOL'S POLLUTED AIR IS MAKING OUR STUDENTS SICK?'

The picture:

A very familiar looking kid, on his knees and bent over, mid puke.

The journalist:

'Written by: Porchinius Minch'

…okay, two things. One, I'm fairly certain Porchinius isn't really Pokey's full first name, and that he's making it up. Two, what the fuck.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I groan, looking up at the black haired person who delivered me the paper. "You. How dare thou bringeth such filth unto me? Doest thou hath a death wish?"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." Ninten says. "Just thought you might want to know."

I roll my eyes in exasperation. "Thou werest supposed to answer in Shakespearian!" I whine at him.

"No."

"Why noteth?"

"No."

"Fine, you killjoy fuck." I look down at the black and white picture of me in a pathetic hunched over position spilling my guts, one that everyone in the school has seen already. Just when I thought things've died down a bit, now Pokey's starting it all up again.

The Monday following the incident was not pleasant. It was one of the times where being well known throughout school fucked me over. As soon as I entered the front doors I was assaulted by dumbass after dumbass laughing and asking me dumbass questions and generally wasting the air of the school with their dumbassery. I endured a whole day of oh so witty comments speculating what made me start puking, and it took a lot of self-restraint and talking down by Ninten for me to not start breaking jaws. Especially after getting my phone back from Biff and discovering that he used my own damn phone to take the picture of me throwing up and send it to everybody on Earth. No wonder Ninten and Fuel couldn't track down the source. They wouldn't think to check my phone.

I've more or less come to accept that that's how life works. My post-traumatic breakdown in the middle of the school is just another piece of juicy gossip that serves to entertain the brainless teenagers for a week or so before they get bored and stop caring.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of disappointment…

Whatever… back to the matter at hand. I know for a fact that whatever's written in here is going to be false, but out of morbid curiosity, I flip the page anyway and read whatever Pokey's managed to come up with this time.

…it's well written, I'll give it that. Except now I'm under the impression that I'm an oversensitive sickly hospital case who's allergic to air conditioning.

"Great." I sigh, looking back up to Ninten. "Do I even wanna know what the school's thinking?"

"Probably not." He answers truthfully.

"Then I won't ask." I roll up the newspaper and toss it in a recycling bin. "Now, onto more pressing matters," I grin widely, "Having a good birthday so far, old geezer?"

That's right, 17 years ago today was the day Ninten's mom slowly and painfully squeezed him out of her womb along with nine months' worth of bloody placenta that he ate and pissed in while he was trapped in there.

No wonder Paula's always persistent about me using good quality condoms.

Ninten chuckles. "Just another day, except I'm 16 plus one now."

"Great! So whenever you're ready, I'll be here to give you your 17 b-."

"No."

"Hey! It's tradition! You're gonna have to take those 17 punches or everyone's gonna think you're a pussy."

He gives a supremely unimpressed look. "Yes, I care so much about what a bunch of retarded hormonal teenagers think of me. Seriously, if you even think about giving me birthday beats I will deathday beat you."

"Fine, whatever. We still on for tonight though, right?" I ask.

"Of course, but I wouldn't expect too many shows. I'm kind of getting tired of big parties where the whole school is invited. I think I'd prefer to keep it to a few people I know who'd be there for my birthday, and not for another excuse to get wasted and naked and destroy furniture."

"I can get what you mean. So who are you inviting then?"

"You'll see."

Guess I will.

Walking down the hall I can see scattered copies of the newspaper in the hands of a few people. Some of them look up at me and try to get my attention, but I shrug them off. If I don't act like it's a big deal, then hopefully nobody else will. I've had enough of the gawking and remarks. Honestly, it's kind of stupid how they can make such a big fucking deal over one guy throwing up in the hall. One dumbass kid starts laughing out loud at me, but one hard glare from Ninten shut him right up.

Then I catch us passing the source of all this. Onett Owl's production classroom. Of course, we probably pass by this place all the time on our way to classes, but I wouldn't dare knock on the door and chance having to talk to Pokey or that constantly talking chick who runs the paper. But this time, I feel strangely compelled to take a look inside to see if Pokey's there.

So I do. Ninten waits for me outside as I turn the doorknob and enter the classroom.

"Hi! Welcome to Onett Owl's production and printing offices! I'm Nana andI'llbeyourguideifyouhaveanyquestions-."

"Yeah, yeah, that's great Nana," I interrupt, which is probably the only way to get a word in with this blabby blonde, "but I'm looking for Pokey, is he-."

"I'm right here!" With a whoosh of wind, my fat neighbour's suddenly right beside me nipping at my heels with that large toothy grin of his. "How ya doing, Ness? You're here to comment on my latest creation, right?"

"Yeah, Pokey, umm… can I talk to you in private for a s-."

"Yes. Yes you can." He immediately guides me to a secluded area of the classroom with obscene eagerness, all the while shining that large smile at me. Seriously, the teeth are practically sparkling. Well if anything, at least Pokey's parents enforce hygiene upon him.

"So Ness, what do you wanna talk about? How are you feeling by the way? No more symptoms of puking, right? If you're still not feeling well, just come by my place and I'll get mom to fix ya riiight up and-."

"Pokey, why exactly did you write that article?" I ask surprisingly calmly.

"Well it's obvious, isn't it?" He says, scrunching up his shoulders. "Ever since that day you got sick and puked, all everyone talked about was how funny it was. But it isn't funny at all, no siree, nobody should be laughing at my best friend when he's not feeling well! So I did some digging, and asked the teachers and spent a whole lot of time, but I uncovered the truth! The school's air isn't doing us any good I tell ya, and-."

"Yeah, I read your article." I interrupt again before he gets too excited. Then I explain patiently. "Listen, Pokey… sometimes, it's best to just let things go, y'know? To just let it pass instead of trying to chase it down, you get what I'm saying? Like this situation, I know you mean well, but the best you could've done for me is just leave it be, and let everyone forget about what happened, instead of bringing it back up so people can laugh at me again."

"But why would they do that?" He wonders, genuinely befuddled. "When they read my article, they shouldn't be laughing at all! They should be saying sorry to you, and thanking me for unveiling the great truth!"

"Sometimes the world doesn't work like that, man. Some people just won't see the points you see."

"Don't worry Ness! I'll make them see! If they can't see my genius now, I'll just keep going until they have no choice but to accept that I'm the one that's right all along!"

That statement sounded a lot less evil than it should have. And somehow, I suddenly understand my old neighbour a lot better than ever before…

"Good luck with that." I tell him plainly, before deciding this to be a good time to leave. "See you around, Pokey."

"Wait, Ness."

I turn around. "Hmm?"

"I…" He fiddles his fingers for a moment, with his face scrunched up in an expression that might be sadness. "Ness can we play- erm… hang out, tonight?"

"I have somewhere to be." I answer in truth.

"Oh… okay. I just want to spend some time with you before I move away, that's all."

I blink. "Pardon?"

"Oh nothing!" He laughs, suddenly boisterous again. "I'll see you around then! Gotta get back to writing!"

He waddles away, leaving me wondering if I had indeed heard him say that he's going to be moving. Like, out of his house, with the rest of his overweight family, away from the address next to mine. I've always expected this news to be the time for me to start popping champagne bottles and party favours, but the idea of Pokey, one of the (albeit annoying) few constants in my life leaving, leaves me feeling a bit… melancholy.

-01210-

It is Ninten's sweet seventeenth, so I guess this is a good time for me to let y'all know a bit more about the birthday boy.

I can't say exactly when I first met him, he just sort of gradually melded into my life with such naturalness that it pretty much impossible to try imagining life without his face. Some of my earliest and fondest memories is of the two of us owning the sandboxes and jungle gyms in the park near where we live. It's an interesting contrast to Pokey, who prefers to stay around his own house and make us play with his own toys that his mother showers him with. The two of them hold different places in my fond memories. Too bad Pokey never really grew out of his childish state of mind. While Ninten seemed to have grown out of it too fast.

Anyways, the years passed and Ninten and I discovered our freakishly alike appearances. We ran with it, cutting our hairstyles to be the same, buying the same clothes and caps, and generally being a complete nuisance to anybody who first met us and couldn't tell us apart. That is until they realized that Ninten's usually the one sitting quietly against a wall reading a book while I'm the one stuffing orange crayons into my mouth.

Nowadays I chew on the end of my pencils instead. Maturity.

But yeah. Ninten's always been one of the less spastic boys, even when he was a grade schooler. He's not really one for crying or overly hyper screaming.

I've always contributed that to his home life. It's no secret that Ninten's family's one of the wealthiest and classiest, one look at his classic Corvette or the gleaming Mercedes SUV that is their family car can tell you that. All that dough comes from his dad, who works offshore in some mega company. His mom, a regional Eagleland Government representative, isn't really home all the time either. Frequently leaving him alone in a large house.

Just him, and his younger twin sisters.

Make no mistake, Ninten will tear your arm off with his teeth if you so much as reach it towards his sisters' direction without their permission. An instinct built in from having to look after them from a pretty young age. If anything'll mature you, it's taking care of younger sisters. Believe me, I know. The few times I was tasked with looking after the whirling heap of evil named Tracy, I swear I had grown grey hairs. And Ninten consistently takes care of Minnie and Mimmie, and that ranges from helping them with homework, to cooking and cleaning and tucking them off to bed.

It's no life for slouches, that's for sure. And Ninten's definitely no slouch. He's an unflappable, serious, responsible seventeen year old.

Pshh. Old geezer.

Currently, Paula and I are knocking on the front door of said old geezer's large estate. So far it seems like Ninten's sticking with keeping things small, as there aren't many cars parked around the place, nor is there raucous noise coming from the other side of the door. We're both dressed snappier than usual, in neat collared shirts and clean pants. It's not a requirement, but just a feeling that stepping into Ninten's big, shiny, classy place, you really shouldn't be packing stained t-shirts and torn jeans.

The door is opened by seemingly nobody, but then we look down a bit and are met by two identical, freckly smiling auburn haired girls.

"Welcome!" Mimmie and Minnie greet us in unison.

"Hey girls, how are you?" Paula crouches and hugs the two of them.

"What's up, brats?" I smirk at them, ruffling their heads.

They take our greeting in stride.

"Nothing much, Miss Paula." Mimmie (…I think…) says.

"Back at you, Ness." Minnie (probably) says.

"Hey! How come I don't get a Mister in front of my name?" I pout.

"Because, our brother said so-" (is Mimmie the one who wears purple?)

"-and you don't act like a Mister-" (or did she switch clothes with Minnie again?)

"-because you call us brats-"

"-and fight with big brother for the last cookie-"

"-and big brother always has to remind you to not say bad words in front of us-"

"-and you're too short to be a proper Mister!"

You know, I've always wondered if this is a routine they practise, or if twins are genuinely like this all the time, telepathically finishing off each other's though processes. It's amusing and sometimes really creepy.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if Lucas talked like this too when his twin brother was still with him. Though my imagination fails completely to visualize what that would be like.

Speaking of which... Lucas was invited, but declined to come. Again. I wonder if party-phobia is a thing, or maybe he just doesn't like being crowded with a lot of other rowdy strangers. Of course, since he doesn't work today, the excuse he gave us was that he'd be busy with quote unquote, personal, things. Because he assumes we're all idiots who can't tell what an obvious dodge is when we see it.

"Earth to Nessie?"

I snap out of it, and find the twin girls already running off and Paula looking at me.

"What were you thinking about this time?" She asks.

"Nothing much, sorry for stroking out on you." I grin at her.

She chuckles, sliding closer to me. "If it makes you feel better, your height is perfect the way it is. I've always imagined sex with a guy who's too tall wouldn't be as enjoyable…"

The perfect girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen. I lean over to meet her lips.

A brown topped head suddenly squeezes itself between us obnoxiously, and an arm drapes over both our shoulders. "You know, I don't know why you two always leave me out of your sexy talk. It really hurts my feelings."

I snort loudly, while Paula laughs. "Nice to see you too, sweetie."

Fuel grins, detaching himself from us, kicking off his shoes and jogging inside. "If you two are done roadblocking the doorway, there's a birthday boy in there who's waiting for our five star company. Let's go already!"

Paula and I exchange a shrug, and finish the kiss that was interrupted, before taking off our shoes and heading into the house.

-01210-

The venue's around 14 people. Very small compared to the usual standards. In an out of touch town like Onett, pretty much all the kids know all the other kids, who when there's something going on, everybody likes to jump on the train. So parties are usually massive. 14 is tame in comparison.

All of them I recognize, if some only barely. It's a very interesting group. A lot of the well-known troublemakers and loudmouths are not present. Instead we get our resident homework expert Jeff, and his fruity friend Tony, squeezed tightly in one large armchair. The white haired kid called Lloyd is also there, trying to look inconspicuous with a book in hand. The entire cultural diversity club of Onett High, namely Poo. A quiet girl who must be Angie, if Fuel's oh so subtle derpy grin is something to go by. Mimmie and Minnie are running around. And a couple other kids who Ninten probably knows better than me.

I'm not sure how to feel, to be honest, because Ninten says that he only invited people who wished him a happy birthday.

Apparently that consists of, not counting Paula, Fuel, and I or his twin sisters, seven other people. Well, eight, because Lucas declined the invite.

Still. "Damn, this isn't many people." I tell him, as I watch that weird Tony kid from Winters fiddle around with a bowl of nacho chips with the world's most baffled face.

"I didn't expect any more." Ninten says nonchalantly. "I don't think half the people I hang out with even know me as anything else other than the guy with the Corvette and plays baseball."

"You sure it's not just you being cynical?"

"The proof's right in front of you." He gestures to the less than crowded room.

"Well, maybe some of them forgot to wish you happy birthday." I surprise myself with how defensive I sound.

He scoffs dismissively. "Yeah, right."

"Yo! Birthday boy! Bust out the cake!" Fuel yells in between his attempts to make small talk to Angie. "I've got 17 candles with your names on 'em!"

"Oh! We'll go get it!" Mimmie and Minnie announce in singsong tones, rushing off to the kitchen, not heeding their brother calling after them.

Ninten sighs. "I need to go look after the twin terrors, be right back. You're in charge of making sure nothing breaks." He jogs after the girls into the kitchen.

Making sure nothing breaks huh? I glance back at the 11 others in the room, of which include two polite ladies, two socially awkward nerds, a socially awkward foreign nerd, and a humble Dalaamian. Looks like I get an easy job for once.

"Excuse me." An accented voice calls.

I turn and come face to face with a bowler hat. Looking down slightly reveals the wearer to be the rather eccentric exchange student program dude that hangs around Jeff all the time, who I've come to associate with questionable clothing choices and a ridiculously posh and stuck up Winters accent. Carrying a huge bowl full of nacho chips.

"Right, so I would like to formally wish you a joyous birthday." Tony says, sounding awkward. "And thank you, I suppose, for extending an invitation for me to join you in celebrations, however small it seems to be."

Oh god, decisions, decisions. Should I play along? It would be so perfect… nah, too easy to get busted here. Besides, Ninten might PMS all over me again like he did last time.

"Sorry, dude, talking to the wrong guy." I tell him.

He puts on a befuddled face that somehow makes it seem like it's my fault for being the wrong guy. "But I'm certain that you were the one who gave Jeff and I the invite earlier today."

"Yeah, we get that a lot. I'm Ness. The guy you're looking for, Ninten, looks pretty much exactly like me. Just remember that I'm the handsome one."

He frowns. "But, if you look the same, then how can you be the handsome one?"

Oh. He's one of those people. "It was a joke." I explain.

"I see. Goodness I'll never comprehend the crude humour Eagleland possesses." He says snobbily. Then he holds up the giant bowl of chips he's carrying to my face. "Now then, can you please do me the favour of explaining what these are?"

I blink at him. "Uhh… these are nacho cheese chips. You put them in your mouth and eat them."

"Yes, I know you eat them." He snaps at me. "And Jeff told me they're called chips too. But why are they called chips? I mean, I understand they too are made of potatoes, but the chips I'm familiar with are cut into sticks and fried in oil."

"...you mean fries?"

"Yes, they are fried."

"No, I meant…" I shake my head. "Okay dude, chips here in Eagleland are those really thin cooked salted potato slices that you find in bags, you get me?"

Tony frowns, then understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, you mean crisps. So I am to believe crisps are called chips in this place. Then what are chips called?"

"Fries."

"Fries? What an uncultured name, honestly. Oh it is such a hassle learning the oh-so confusing terminology of you Eaglelanders. Just this morning too, when Jeff took me out to eat, I was so dreadfully baffled by why everyone ordered biscuits for breakfast, surely cookies cannot be a satisfying meal to start the day. The Jeff had to explain to me that biscuits are something completely different here…"

At that moment Jeff decided to get up and lead his friend away from me, handing me a rather flustered look of apology. I just shrug, but am thankful for the chance to escape the conversation. Goddamn that kid really knows how to start a headache.

I wander over to Mr. Kung Fu Poo, who looks dazzlingly out of place with his red and gold trimmed ceremonial robe getup and ponytail. When he sees me approach, he bows slightly to me. I've told him god knows how many times to not do that anymore, but he seems insistent on it for whatever weird Dalaamian tradition reason or something. So I've taken to reciprocating. I bow back at him, knowing that he knows my gesture is a sign of respect to him and his culture, not to mock him.

"Greetings, Ness." He says to me, a barely noticeable Oriental inflection in his words. Definitely a change from the first time I saw him when he accidentally spouted Dalaamese in front of the class. "It is an honour to be invited to Ninten's day of birth ceremony. A most enjoyable night."

"It's not bad." I reply. "I like what you're wearing, by the way."

"Many thanks. Do you know where Ninten is? I wish to present him my gift in person."

"He's back there getting his cake. You got him something? Oh, err, not to say you did anything wrong," I answer his questioning look, "it's just that Ninten doesn't usually take presents. He doesn't want anybody to feel obligated when coming to his birthday parties."

All of what I said is true. There was actually a time when I felt bad about it, because I happily accepted presents at my birthday celebrations. But I got over that pretty quickly when Ninten showed up to after last year's birthday in a goddamn classic Corvette.

"I see. Unfortunate. I suppose I shall discuss this with him later." Poo says, reaching into his robe thingy and pulling out a shiny red envelope… oh geez.

"So, um, when d'you wish him happy birthday today?" I ask, forcing my eyes away, repeating to myself mentally it's rude to stare at envelopes full of money.

"During break for lunch."

"How did you know that today's his birthday?"

"Ninten revealed such to me during one afternoon, when we played soccer together."

"Hell dude, soccer with this man is intense." A voice belonging to Fuel suddenly pops in from beside me. Apparently he's been listening in on our conversation. "It's hella fun watching him perform his Xiaolin Soccer skills. Me and Ninten have been bothering him for l-."

"Ninten and I." Tony speaks up from the sofa, apparently also listening in.

"…me and Ninten have been bothering him for lessons," Fuel continues. "If soccer's half as exciting as Master Poo here makes it out to be, I'll gladly jump on that bandwagon."

My reply is cut off by our resident English Language Master from Winters huffing, "why on earth must you call it soccer? Football is the most logical, and most worldly accepted name for the sport. Also, it's rude to not heed another's kindly correction of your abhorrent grammar skills!"

Fuel gives him a biting grin. "How do you know what I said isn't the correct and accepted grammatical usage in Eagleland?"

Tony opens his mouth, but no words come out, leaving him looking hilarious with his jaw open in a perfect O. Then he ducks his head and quietly (we all hear him anyway) asks Jeff to confirm if what Fuel said was true. To which good ol' Jeff sighs and explains wearily that he's merely making a joke. Which makes Tony turn back to stare at Fuel with what can only be described as the world's deadliest pout. Fuel smiles innocently back.

"Honestly, I don't know why I even bother. It's like attempting intelligent conversation with a bloody baboon." Tony grumbles.

Next thing I know, something is whizzing through the air and connecting with a small thud to Tony's forehead, which gets a greatly exaggerated and rather girly cry of pain from him. It turns out to be a small gummy candy.

"Lighten up, dude." Fuel chimes, hands digging into the bowl of gummy candy sitting on a table beside him. "You're gonna grow wrinkles real early if you're always so stuck up."

He turns back to rejoin our conversation, but before another word can be said, a cheesy chip has stuck itself to his thick brown hair.

Fuel slowly looks back at Tony's angry flushed cheeks expression with raised eyebrows. Then another gummy candy is leaving his hands and travelling toward Tony, who curls up and puts his arms out in front of him defensively, squeezing his eyes shut and swatting a hand blindly.

A resounding crash mutes all conversation, at the same time one corner of the room turns slightly darker. The deflected gummy candy has managed to knock over a table lamp, which now lay in pieces on the floor.

As the rest of the room looks at the beat up lamp, Paula's eyes, conditioned from spending years around us stupid boys, are zeroed in at me and Fuel with a half-lidded expression that tells us 'we're idiots' much more effectively than any of the teachers at school can.

"Ahem."

I spin around to see Ninten, with a sister on either side of him, carrying a massive well decorated birthday cake, staring straight at me with an utterly blank look.

…well, at least now he'll know to never put me in charge of anything anymore.

-01210-

Even after everybody's had a good share, there's still almost half a cake left. Not too surprising, really, since to make up for their absences that commonly coincided with special days like his birthday, Ninten's mom and dad usually prepare something extravagant instead, like a giant birthday cake, as their way of saying sorry for not being there. Ninten's always said it feels like a bribe to him, and I can't help but agree.

The group split up a bit now that we're all done singing happy birthday and stuff. Fuel had lead a couple of others to start up Ninten's game consoles, if the copious amounts of screaming coming from the other room is anything to go by. Lloyd's initial plan to retreat quietly to a corner to keep reading was scuppered when Fuel snatched his book out of his hands a pulled him along into games room. Ninten had wandered off to make a few phone calls, while his sisters have retreated for the night. Tony had excused himself and wandered off somewhere.

That leaves me and Paula sitting silently at the table with Jeff and Poo.

…this is fucking awkward.

And I don't think I'm the only one feeling it, because after a short while Jeff announces, "I-I think I'm going to go look for Tony, he has been gone for a while now," with an embarrassed chuckle, pushing away from out table and heading off.

"I'm going to go catch up with Angie for a while, Nessie." Paula follows up, standing as well. "Coming?"

"I'll chill here for a while, it's suicide to go into the same room as Fuel when he's in that video game mood."

She grins. "So you're gonna let me go in there all by myself?"

I put on an affronted face. "Hey! I value my life too much!"

"Alright, alright." She pecks me on the lips, before walking off.

I lean back in my chair and turn back to face the almost empty table. Poo is still calmly sitting there, elegantly cutting up a slice of cake with a knife and fork and chewing slowly. Which looks rather strange, because I'm fairly certain the only way to eat cake is to shove it towards your face and hope it gets in your mouth.

"Likin' the cake?" I ask.

He looks up at me, finishes chewing, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and answers, "It is most enjoyable. There are rarely such purely sweet and flavourful foods in my home country."

See, that's how you answer a question mid-eating. It took forever for Fuel to kick the habit of swallowing before talking and sparing us the sight of his food filled mouth.

"Then I suppose you don't usually celebrate, umm, day of birth ceremonies with cake?"

He shakes his head. "Our culture demands that we hold day of birth ceremonies in high importance. A large feast is usually held instead of cake. If I may speak truthfully, after undergoing 16 years of such ceremonies, both mine and others', it has become quite tedious and boring. It is a most refreshing change to attend such a casual and unrestricted day of birth… party, I believe the word is, as this one."

"That's cool, but these kind of things can get pretty old too. I'm actually thinking that your birthday ceremonies sound pretty awesome to attend. Guess people just need some change in routine after a while."

"Most astute. Though forgive me for asking, but is it not typical for the parents to attend these parties? I do not think I have seen Ninten's mother or father."

"That's 'cause they're not here." I fold my arms, frowning a bit. "Ninten's dad is out of the country for work, and his mom is out of the house a lot too. Their jobs demand it."

Poo shares my frown. "That seems… can they not excuse themselves from work for such an occasion?"

"Not easily. They hold very important positions in their respective jobs. But yeah, I know. It's not really winning them any Parent of the Year awards."

"Indeed. Parent figures should be with their children as much as possible. It is their soul bound duty the moment they decided to have children, to raise them to the best of their ability, to nurture them, to teach them, to be honest with them."

"Yeah…" I murmur my agreement, then decide to change up the topic before my thoughts get too dark. "So, like, what sort of traditions do your day of birth ceremonies entail?"

That prompts Poo to launch into lengthy descriptions of birthdays in Dalaam. It's pretty neat listening to all of it straight from the horse's mouth, and imagining how it all goes down. Maybe it's because I've rarely ever been out of my small, culturally monotonous town. It's one of the disadvantages of Onett, sometimes it feels like you're disconnected from the rest of the world, that you're forever playing catch-up to change. I think eventually I'll have to move out of here if I wait what did he just say.

"They make you get drunk for your birthdays?" I ask incredulously.

Poo nods. "From as early of age as 10."

"What, are all Dalaamians born with iron livers or something?"

He gives me a confused look for a second, then he processes the joke. "Ah. We mediate the amount of alcohol consumed based on age."

"Erm… I can appreciate a good drink and stuff, but… why does your culture endorse getting children hammered?"

"Hammered…?"

"Drunk, I mean."

"It would be false to say that it is encouraged." Poo clarifies. "In fact, modern Dalaam frowns upon such. But tradition dating back to ancient times is widely celebrated, especially so with my family, which has roots in old Dalaamese Royalty. And traditional culture values trust and genuineness between people, and encourages being open with one another. Alcohol is consumed because it lowers natural human wariness, and makes the drinker more likely to speak their true inner thoughts and judgements."

Huh. So while in Eagleland beer is just some cheap way to get shit faced, in Dalaam it's some kind of revered truth serum. To be fair though, I can see some logic in why.

After chatting for a while more, Poo gets dragged off to play whatever video game Fuel's been obsessing with, and I decide to go Ninten searching. Not much of a b-day bash if b-day boy isn't going to… b here… yeah, I'll stop now.

I end up trekking upstairs. It can be pretty easy to get lost in this house if you haven't been here a bajillion times already like I have, hopefully nobody else wandered up here by accident… nope, never mind. As I pass a washroom door, some voices that don't belong to Ninten reach me from behind it. Following as nature dictates me, I press my ear against the door to hear better.

"…oh Jeff… I can't do this… it's too much…"

"You can, Tony. You just have to endure a bit longer."

A small sob. "Ahh… it's so hard…"

"I know it is, but you can take it."

"…oh… ah…"

"Shh, it's okay."

"B-but it hurts…"

"You'll have to overcome it if you want to enjoy yourself."

…uhhhhhh, maybe I should just move on.

Before I can creep away though, the door opens, and a fully clothed Jeff appears at the doorway, with a fully clothed and slightly puffy eyed Tony trailing.

"Oh, hello Ness. Did you need to use the washroom?"

"…no thank you." I say warily. "Umm, you okay, dudes?"

"We will be fine, thank you. I was merely consoling Tony, who's finding it a bit more difficult than he originally thought to adjust to life in Eagleland. He just needs to tough things out a bit longer, right Tony?"

"If… if you say so." Tony replies quietly.

I watch them head back down to rejoin the group, Tony trailing very closely behind Jeff. I'm still not entirely convinced of what happened in the bathroom, but… yeah, let's just move on.

Where the hell is that black haired bastard? Not in his room, not upstairs or anywhere Mimmie or Minnie had seen… backyard maybe… let's see, backyard… backyard… hey! Backyard! And lookie, Ninten's here too, with a phone in hand, talking quietly to someone.

He hasn't noticed me yet, seemingly pretty invested in his conversation. He's also talking in weirdly gentle and docile tones, making his voice seem a bit more welcoming than that cold baritone he's usually using. But at the same time, he seems a bit tense, because he's slowly pacing. Ninten usually prefers leaning against a variety of surfaces with his arms crossed, he never paces unless there's a lot going through his mind.

Soon enough his pace pattern turns him to me. Then he gestures for me to go over.

"…coming right now." His voice clears up as I get closer. "Yeah, you want talk to him? Sure, hang on."

He hands me his phone with a small smile. I frown questioningly, taking it and putting it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ness. It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. "…Ana?"

"It's me, honey."

"Ana! Holy shit, it's been so long!"

"Language, Ness."

I let out an exhilarated laugh. It's been way, way too long since I've heard that. "Sorry, sorry. Oh man, Ana, how've you been?"

"I'm well. It feels a lot quieter here in Snowman than Onett, though. It's nice, but it can get a bit lonely. What about you, Ness?"

"I…" I deliberate my answer for a second in my head. It has never felt right being anything but genuine with Ana. It's not like she expects it of you, you just sort of expect it of yourself when around someone as sweet as her. "I've been better. But it's okay, things are gonna be fine with me."

"Oh no, what's happened?" She asks soberly.

"Just some stuff with my personal life." I decide that's a good enough answer. "But don't worry, Ninten and the others are taking real good care of me."

"That's good to hear, hon. God will always smile upon kind ones like you, just remember that."

The goofy grin I've been wearing on my face this entire time widens a bit hearing her say that. "You really should call or text us more often, we miss you back here. This is the first birthday we celebrated in a long time without you." I tell her, surprising myself slightly with that fact.

"I'm sorry that I haven't. Cellphone service is very limited in a small community like Snowman. And with the weather here, telephones aren't consistent either. I managed to grab one today to wish Ninten happy birthday today though."

I glance over at Ninten, who I'm aware of is watching me the whole time, piecing together our conversation with a neutral face. "Well, don't let me hold you up on that then." I say jovially, and hand the cell back to its owner.

Ninten takes it back. "Hey."

A pause.

"…yeah. Yeah I know. Some really… unexpected stuff came up in Ness' life, and it's been hard on him. But I'm not really the one to talk about it, if he wants to, he'll tell you eventually. But… yeah. We're looking after him, don't worry."

…

"Yeah, him, Paula and Fuel are all here, I didn't want that many…"

I tune out as the conversation heads away. Man, it's nice hearing Ana's voice again, almost feels like being brought back down to earth. It's only been half a year or so, but I've slowly forgotten what she sounds like. I think about how fast that'd happened, how fast our group has seemingly gotten used to not having her around anymore. I guess with all the hubbub going on recently, she's been pushed to the back of my head faster than I thought. I still remember when Ana and Ninten's breakup was the talk of the school, but now nobody even brings it up anymore. It's scary how fast old news dies.

Can't speak for Ninten, of course. You can't really tell what the guy's thinking most days, so for all I know he's been heartaching this entire time. Or maybe he's moved on, who knows. Probably not, I can't imagine myself getting over Paula quickly if we ever broke up.

I close my eyes and try to bring up an image of Ana. The first things that come to mind are a dress and hair ribbons… and not much else. I'm shocked by how faded my photo memory of Ana is. In fact, if you ask me to describe her right now, I'd probably fail. Has my memory always been this terrible? I actually feel kind of bad right now, since it feels like that I'm disrespecting my old fr-.

"No!"

Ninten's exclamation yanks my attention back to his call. He's gripping his phone tightly, eyes wide and face severe. Wait, what did I miss?

"Ana, listen, you have to stay away from those people! They're dange-."

A murmur of words from the cellphone.

"They're doing what- no, it doesn't matter! It's really risky to have those people around your town Ana, please, if you can't get rid of them then just stay away from them!"

Ana's reply sounds a bit rebellious. I stare wide eyed at Ninten and his glowing phone, feeling useless and wondering what the hell's happening. Because it sounds like they're fighting. I've never heard the two fight before.

"Ann! You're not listening to me!" Ninten shouts, frustrated. "God, don't you watch the news? It doesn't matter what-."

An irritated reply.

"What? How am I ordering you around? Can you just listen for a sec-?"

An even more irritated reply.

Ninten growls, then his fierce eyes spot me.

"Ana? Ana hold on, just, hold on for a second, okay?"

The phone's urgently shoved in my face. "Dude you need to talk to her. I… just… just talk to her, alright?" Ninten asks, stumbling over his words, expression so urgent that it pretty much leaves me no option to deny anything.

Bewildered, I take the phone and nervously bring it up to my head. "Ana, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure. Ninten's being rather rude though."

"Did… was it something you brought up?"

"I was telling him about a group of activists who came to town offering to help us develop. They have a very positive work ethic and outlook on life, so I am thinking of joining their cause. I'm not sure why this piece of news has him so riled up."

"Oh." I frown. "What's the group called?"

"I believe they refer to themselves as Happy Happyists."

Fuck. FUCK. "Ana! Stay aw…"

I shut my mouth, and make a huge effort to repress my emotions. I cannot lose it here. It won't help anybody, least of all myself, if I start yelling and losing my head. Stay calm. Stay. Calm. Calmness means more control over thoughts. And I need to stay in control.

I start again. "Ana, are you still with me?"

"Ness? What is going on?"

"Sorry about yelling, it's just…" I shut my eyes. Stay in control. Stay. In. Control. "Ana, the Happy Happyists are not the well doers they present themselves to be. They have a known record of being terrible people who do terrible things. In fact, I think the only reason they showed up to Snowman is because most of the bigger towns and cities know of their despicable track record. Trust me, their happy demeanours aren't what it's cracked up to be. You can search them up if you want, you're not gonna find anything you'd like."

"Oh. Oh gosh, I didn't know that."

"Don't worry about it." I sigh. "So how many of them are there? And what have those blue obsessed fuckers been telling you?"

"Language Ness. There are only three of them, and they've mostly been offering themselves as a branch of Christianity that focuses on creating more happiness in this life."

"Only three? Okay, that's not too bad. I know this sounds a bit much, but make sure you keep an eye on them, wherever they're staying, okay? Make sure they're not doing anything fishy. I can't take the chance that they're going to plan something bad."

"Oh dear, this is quite serious, isn't it? And to think they're such nice people… I wanted to talk to them too, ask them for advice on being happier in life."

An image of a beautiful blonde girl tied down to a table with blue clothed men around her vividly pops up in my head, and I viciously force it down along with the feeling of bile in my throat.

"Ann, no matter whatever's happened in the past, please don't hesitate to talk to us when you're feeling down." I tell her sternly. "We're still here, we haven't disappeared just because you moved away. Alright? I'm sure Paula would be very glad to hear from you. But please, just stay away from those Happy Happyist people. Don't trust them, they're a dangerous cult, and Ninten and the rest of us just want you to stay safe. Okay?"

"…okay, Ness. Thanks for telling me."

I smile. "There, see? I know you can't see it, but I'm smiling right now. C'mon Ana. Smile. Are you smiling? I can't see that smile!"

She laughs. Soft and lyrical. "I'm smiling too, honey. Now I think I'll need to get going and let my father use the telephone. Please tell Ninten happy birthday from me again, will you?"

"Wait, wait, tell him yoursel-."

"Goodnight, Ness."

The line dies just as I move to force the cell back into Ninten's hands.

An awkward silence ensues, with me frozen with an arm outstretched to Ninten, a phone displaying 'call ended' in hand, and Ninten staring at me. I can practically hear the crickets chirping around us. Oh, wait, I can, it's nighttime.

Finally Ninten takes the phone and shoves it back in his pocket. "Did you manage to talk her out of it?" He asked plainly.

"Mission accomplished, commander!" I mock salute, trying to drag a grin out of him.

With some success. "Glad she listened to you at least. And… sorry for putting you through that. You looked tense for a while there, I thought you might lose it for a second."

"No worries. Sorry for not getting back to you, she sort of hung up really quick."

"It's fine." He says. "C'mon, back inside. Fuel's had enough time alone with my poor game systems."

I know an end to a conversation topic when I hear one.