quick authors note: hello! as i previously said in the last chapter, things have been picking up for me so i don't have much time to write : ( i'm not sure when the next chapter will be out after this, but this one was originally going to be longer until i realised i had to split it in half. about a little less than half of the next chapter has been written, so i have at least something. nonetheless, please enjoy this chapter! i'll try to update as soon as i can. 3

11 APRIL 2003

"Morning."

Clementine groggily shifted her head to look for the voice beside her. A P.E. uniform clad Violet sat on the edge of her bunk, grin warm and tying the laces of her Chuck Taylor's. Gleaming yellow rays shone through the barred windows and settled upon her face, illuminating the ocean green in her eyes. Above her laid Sarah sound asleep on her bunk, her rose-coloured frames sitting on the wall shelf just above her head.

She sheepishly propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Hey," she greeted back.

"You woke up in time for breakfast," Violet informed her, standing from her bunk. "I was going to meet Minnie over there. If you want, I can wait for you to get ready."

Violet was… brusque, to put it formally. She gave the impression that she was blunt, yet humble. She described herself to be 'not a people person' during yesterday's lunch hour. But as much as they may be true, Clementine noticed that she put in at least some effort to fix that. Of all the ways Violet characterized herself, Clementine was yet to experience it. She was yet another example of trying to correct one's self, an example she knew she had to follow.

"Sure," Clementine nodded, pulling the sheets off herself. "Give me a sec'."

Violet waited in the hall for Clementine to get dressed and brush her teeth in the bathrooms beside their dorm. Once she was finished, they trekked through the dormitories and eventually out into the courtyard.

"I, uh, hope you weren't too freaked out by what happened yesterday. With Marlon," Violet scratched the back of her head. "He's a good tour guide and stuff. We both came here in sixth grade, so as we got older, they usually paired us together to show kids around. I, uh, lost my patience with the shitty ones pretty often, but he still kept his cool with them. I guess that's why he's Head of Sophomores, huh," she sheepishly grinned, pulling open the doors to the classroom building.

"He sure did keep his cool with me," Clementine responded as they entered. "Can't say the same for Brody."

"Oh, they fight all the time. It's nothing new. It's just annoying for everyone around them," she rolled her eyes. "Brody can be snappy and Marlon can have his bad days. The two of those combined is just a bomb waiting to go off. But I guess they have their good moments too."

"Yeah…" Clementine nodded, her brows furrowing. "Sticking around someone that makes you so angry, and for so long, isn't going to end up well."

The pair then entered the quiet cafeteria. Violet peered around in search of her girlfriend, but figured she was a little late when her ginger hair was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't as many kids in the room like there was during lunch and dinner, however it was just enough to form a mild anxiousness in Clementine.

"Uh… s-so, the books in the, um, library," Clementine jitterily spoke, scratching the back of her head. "They're all… lame, don't you think?"

"Oh, totally," she swatted her hand as they headed for the breakfast line. "They filled the library with corny love novels or boring positivity books to 'help bolster morale!'" she raised the pitch of her tone before scoffing, shaking her head as she grabbed a bowl from the stack. "It's fucking stupid. You know? We're kids. Not middled-aged, stay-at-home moms with children to neglect. Where's the comic books? The action novels? True crime? Fantasy?"

"I take it you really like your books," Clementine smiled, also grabbing a bowl.

"Not anymore," Violet shook her head with a frown. "Not with this garbage on the shelves. Sarah let me borrow some book about trans-dimensional body snatchers, but that was the last good thing I read here. Do you, um, read too?"

"Of course," Clementine smirked at her almost condescendingly. "When I was little, I couldn't stop."

Violet smiled at her nostalgic affection of the pages.

"What kind of stuff do you read?" she asked.

"Have you heard of Caucasia?" Clementine questioned, shifting up the line.

"Sounds like what the KKK wants to rename America," Violet grinned.

"Close," the girl giggled. "It's a book set during the civil rights movement in Boston. Around the seventies," she replied. "My dad's a civil history professor up at UGA. So, he's got a lot of the civil rights history stuff. He's really into historical fiction, so that meant I was too," she shrugged. "Caucasia is one of my favourites. It's about a girl named Birdie who's half-cast, like, mixed race. Her father's black and her mom's white. She has an older sister, too, named Cole—"

"Can't imagine that going down well in the seventies," Violet quipped under her breath.

"Well, their parents split up and her dad moves away with her older sister because she's the darker daughter. All the while Birdie and her mom are on the run from the FBI. Her mom thinks they want her for terrorist activities, but it turns out that she's just really paranoid, so it's mostly bullshit. So by the end of the book, Birdie finds her father and he tells her about all his theories on race, and he tells her about how defining people by race is just a concept – that race isn't real. So Birdie loses her shit. And she tells him that if race wasn't real, he wouldn't have left her with her mom. That he would have taken both his daughters, and not just one because she had darker skin," she explained, handing her bowl to the lunch lady as she cleared her throat. "That's… the kind I read."

"Holy shit," Violet's mouth hung slightly agape. "I'm just into fantasy, you know, dragons and warriors and shit. But that sounds really damn cool. It might be in the library, I've gotta check it out—"

"It's not," Clementine sighed. "All I found were cook books in the wrong section."

"Damn," she muttered under her breath, staring at the counter in front of her.

"Your food," the lunch lady clicked her fingers in front of Violet's face. Her almost grimacing upper lip snagged the attention of the girl, as did the unsightly strands of hair above it.

Violet grabbed her bowl as the other lunch lady handed Clementine hers. As they retreated to one of the tables, Clementine wondered if Lee was up for another trip to Virginia. She hadn't read Caucasia in a so long, not after the whole Audrey debacle. Bringing it here would mean Violet could read it too, and what said 'friendly gesture' more than satisfying her fictional needs?

Violet glanced behind her shoulder for the sight of Minerva, but still couldn't see her. It was unusual for her to be late, she even said she wanted to talk. It sounded important, yet she didn't seem to take it as seriously as Violet did.

"I, uh, my favourite book is this cool fantasy novel," Violet picked up conversation again. "A Game of Thrones. It's pretty long. I used to read it a lot but I gave it to Minnie not long ago. She said she wanted to read it but, uh… I don't know if she has."

"Well if she hasn't, why don't you ask for it back?" Clementine suggested, dipping her spoon into her cereal.

Looks like cardboard.

"I don't know," Violet barely shrugged. "I want her to read it. Then we could talk about it and stuff. Every time I ask if she's read it, she says she'll get around to it and that she's sorry. I mean, I get it. Homework, extracurricular, she jams with Louis, too. She's busy."

"That's… fair," Clementine mumbled, unsure of what to respond. "What other books do you like?" she asked, scooping the cereal into her mouth.

Tastes like it, too.

As breakfast rolled on, Minerva was no where to be seen. The girls spoke about their beloved books and the memories that came with them all throughout breakfast and their morning gym class. It was an odd yet relieving feeling to finally have a conversation worth its substance. Clementine felt no need to spew witty remarks or shrug the girl off – unlike anyone before, Violet was quickly becoming someone of value to her. But as the conversation went on, she noticed the worry that liked to etch onto Violet's face in their moments of brief silence. She knew it was over Minerva, but nonetheless it was something she was all too familiar with. Those little, barely recognisable moments of the cold touch of doubt pressing on the flat of your forehead. You felt worried, but your expression had to morph back to the aloofness you've come to uphold. It was why Clementine wanted to talk so badly, so those that doubt didn't creep back in to curse Violet. So she could take Violet away from her concerns with the memories of her favourite literature. It didn't just help her, it helped Clementine too.

"So, what do you guys find most comforting in the morning just after you've woken up?" Walter questioned, his eyes scanning across the classroom. "Therissa?"

"Hmm… those cartoons they air really early in the morning?" she answered with an unsure twitch in her eye.

"Wonderful answer. I'm sure it hits home to a lot of people here," Walter gleefully replied. "How about you, Lamar?"

"Shit, video games of course," he chuckled. "Booting up the PlayStation, throwing on some Final Fantasy—"

"Final Fantasy?" a kid beside him scoffed.

"Yeah, what of it? It's a good—"

"Uh, how about you, Clementine?" Walter hurriedly shifted the focus. "What comforts you in the morning?"

Clementine shrugged, her eyes travelling upwards as she thought.

"Just… being able to lay there, I guess."

"Ah, I see. No where to be, no responsibilities to take care of," her teacher nodded. "I bet we all love the feeling of waking up, looking at our alarm clocks, and rolling back over, huh?" he asked, earning a collective agreement from the class. "What I loved best about sleeping in on the weekends was that my mom made breakfast no matter who was around to eat it. Even when we'd wake up at ten in the morning, food was always on the table. And every Saturday, my mother used to make her amazing pancakes from scratch, without fail. And I'll tell ya," he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, "those were the best damn pancakes I've ever eaten. So, we're going to make them today with my mom's own recipe. Find your partner, find a stove, and let's get to it."

Pancakes? Pancakes? Clementine figured Walter liked the simple things in life, but could this class get anymore boring? If it weren't for the actual cooking aspect, she would have swapped into Government Economics days ago. What was worse was finding a partner – everyone already had their partners, they had been in this class almost the entire year. Of course Lee just had to send her here towards the end of it. Walter insisted that she could work with him, but who wanted to be the lame, weird kid who hangs around the teacher? Not her. So, for the last couple of classes, she found a stove in the back corner and went to work on her own. And it was going to be like that for the rest of these long, miserable eight weeks.

Or so she thought.

"Don't tell me you're going to be working all by yourself again?" Louis exclaimed, leaning his hand on Clementine's desk as the other perched on his hip.

"It's not such a catastrophe," she responded through a huff, standing from her seat.

"That may be true, but behind every good cook is a not so good assistant that can't tell the difference between sugar and salt. And I'm that assistant," he replied, following her as she walked over to her stove. Sighing, she halted at her station and turned to him.

"Your point?" she crossed her arms expectantly.

"My point being, that I'm a catch. And I should totally be your cooking partner," he grinned, planting his hands proudly on his hips.

Before Clementine could rip right into Louis' unamusing confidence, she stopped herself and took a moment to re-evaluate the situation. Okay, Louis wants to help you. Kate says you should let people help. So be nice to him, and say yes.

"Absolutely not," she replied as she pulled out a frying pan.

"Oh, actually, I—um, I kind of need to be," he admitted through a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Omar is usually my partner, but he's working alone this lesson 'cause of… me royally screwing up last class," he began to grin.

"That's where the salt came in, right?" she curiously raised a brow at him, twisting the knob for the stove and placing the pan on top. She waited for it to heat up.

"Heh, best tasting cookies you'll ever have?" he hesitantly chuckled as she moved past him to grab a recipe from a wandering Walter. "Alright, so I'm not that great a cook…" he admitted, his lips contorting into a frown.

As Clementine grabbed a recipe sheet from Walter, Kate's words continued to nip at her. What was really going to happen if she let him join her, anyway? It felt like the world would end if she gave in, but why? How could some wannabe musician concave the universe? Maybe something good will come out of this like Kate said – and she couldn't afford to miss that opportunity.

Sighing, Clementine turned around and approached him. She held the sheet out to him and shrugged as she forced herself to give into his persistence.

"I'm not such a great cook either," she confessed, gesturing with her eyes for him to take the sheet. Louis smiled, plucking the paper from her hand.

"Good news, we can be the worst together," he declared, retrieving a dull smile from her.

"Fine, except I'm getting the ingredients," she dictated. "We're awful, but we know the difference between salt and sugar, okay?"

"Alright, I see you," he nodded.

"Read out the list," she instructed, bending down and opening the cupboard of measuring equipment.

Louis lifted the sheet closer to his gaze and rested his hip against the oven.

"The prophecy calls for… two cups of flour, two eggs, half a tablespoon of sugar—not salt," he looked up to smirk at her. "A teaspoon of vanilla extract, fifty grams of melted butter, one cup of milk—wait, so do we use normal cups to measure all this? Because I feel like I've got that tremendously wrong."

"You've been in this class for a whole year, how do you not know what a measuring cup is?" she grimaced at him, lifting one of the measuring cups out of the cupboard. "We use these."

"Really? Damn it! I wanted to use our regular ol' coffee mugs," he sarcastically replied, unknowingly leaning his hand on the now scalding, hot pan. "You kn—hnng!" Louis instinctively jumped, retracting his hand as he screamed in agony.

"What the—" Clementine shot up from the ground. "Oh, shit—"

"Holy—urgh, seriously?!" he groaned, gripping his hand intensely as he glared at the frying pan. Students began to suddenly direct their attention towards the commotion in the back corner.

"Fuck, is it bad?!" she darted over to him.

"No, it feels like a nice breeze on a cool autumn— Ow, ow, ow!" he winced as she unravelled his clenched fist to reveal his red, raw palm.

Clementine hastily yanked his wrist and led him to the sink. Her hand flipped on the cold water and held Louis' under the running tap.

"What the hell, Louis?!" she exclaimed after a moment.

"Wh— Do you really think I did that on purpose?!" he asked her incredulously, his voice breaking.

"It was right next to you! The hot pan was right next to you!" she glared up at him.

"I think we already established I'm not the smartest person when it comes to cooking!"

"What happened?" Walter worriedly asked as he rushed over, leaning over the sink to witness the damage. Clementine stared at Louis expectantly.

"Tell him," she raised a condescending brow.

"I, uh… put my hand on the frying pan," he reluctantly responded through his pain, earning Walter's bewildered gaze.

"On purpose?"

"Why would I do that on purpose?"

As Walter observed the boy's stinging palm, his eyes widened with concern.

"Clementine, you need to get him to the nurse," he instructed.

"Is it that bad?" she asked, averting her eyes to the man.

"Uh—actually— you know what," Louis began to nervously giggle. "It's really not that bad," he protested.

"I'm not taking the risk here, son," Walter declared as he turned off the tap. "Take him down to Ms Martin. I'll put everything on your station away."

Clementine deadpanned at Louis as he gave her an awkward smile. Sure, pancakes were boring… but they were still better than lame health food.

In some sort of a hurry, Clementine yanked the boy out of the classroom and back into the courtyard to the administration building. For the first time in three days, and probably due to the immense pain in his palm, Louis was finally silent for longer than a heartbeat. Although burning his hand already wielded the result of silence, Clementine liked the notion of losing his tongue better. That way, he couldn't crack a lame joke ever again. Once they got to the nurse's office, Clementine knocked on the door and finally let go of Louis' wrist. The pair waltzed into the sterilized office like a couple of uncoordinated toddlers.

"Oh lord, what is it this time, Mr Scott?" Ms Martin questioned, a sigh of content soon following as she stood from her office chair. The nurse frowned at Louis as if he were a poor, unfortunate soul who was just absolutely tortured… or she pitied him for always getting himself hurt one way or another.

"Mr Scott?" Clementine sniggered from behind him, earning his deadpanned stare.

"Well, how'd you go and do this?" Ms Martin probed as she took his hand and observed it, ignoring his winces.

"Home Ec., hot frying pan, you know how it goes," he replied, attempting to smile through the pain.

"As long as you're in the classroom, I do," Ms Martin mumbled. "Did you run it under water?" she then questioned.

"Not for long," Clementine answered, averting Ms Martin's gaze to her.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be all that bad," she determined. "A first degree burn at most. Keep runnin' it under the tap over there, I'll grab the cooling gel."

As the nurse walked over to her desk, Louis looked back to the girl.

"You know, it doesn't actually hurt that bad," he assured Clementine, stumbling over to the sink.

As she raised a dubious brow at his insistence, Clementine sat on the bed against the wall and watched him poorly pretend the pain wasn't overbearing. It didn't matter how breezily he played off his injury, she could see the agony on his face at every quiet moment, like right then, as he held his hand under the running water. His brows would raise slightly, his eyes worriedly focusing on his sensitively raw palm. He seemed worried, really worried.

She continued to stare at him, soon wandering. Wandering things about him. Like how long he had lived here. He seemed so familiar with a lot of the people she had come across. Kids in the hall would nod or say hello to him, girls wouldn't stop talking to him during class, teachers looked to him in such high esteem. If he were such a stark contrast to those at Ericson's, what the hell was he doing here? What was a guy like Louis doing at a school for troubled youth? Or rather, what was he hiding? Why was he trying to befriend her? It wasn't that she thought he was super cool for a person like her, or out of her feeble realm of social relevancy, he was… good. Wholesome, in a way. If the tables were turned and it were Clementine who had burnt her hand, she wouldn't even allow Louis to let his worries out. She took care of herself, by herself. In a way, it was a good feeling; knowing that she had her own back, that she could count on herself if things ever went awry. But it felt as if it wouldn't last very long, that at some point, she wasn't going to know what to do anymore or how to take care of herself. It was already happening, what with the lack of eating and sleeping over the last couple days. Instead, she helped someone else; a feeling that never felt foreign. Whether it was taking care of AJ when no one was home or tending to Louis' accidentally—and idiotically—self-inflicted injuries, it felt less abnormal to give aid than receive it.

In the midst of Ms Martin applying the cooling gel, a knock on the door turned all three heads to a nauseated Luke.

"Sorry for the bad news, Betty, but uh… one of my freshmen puked in the middle of class again," Luke told her, his face contorted in disgust. "It's just nasty all over the place."

Ms Martin sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"Can't go a damn week without someone hurlin', can we?" she chuckled to herself before sighing seriously. "I'll be right over."

As she screwed the lid back onto the cooling gel and placed it on her desk, Luke's eyes flickered over to Clementine, his brows curving in worry.

"Clementine, are you alright?" he asked, earning her honest nod.

"Believe it or not, we aren't here for me," she told him, jerking her thumb to Louis by the sink. He returned Luke's curious stare with yet another awkward smile.

"Oh… right. You just, uh… you take care of yourself," Luke slowly nodded, giving her one last expectant look before stepping out.

Ms Martin glanced at Clementine, her top lip curled as if she were trying to remember something.

"Miss…"

"Clementine," the girl quickly responded before shaking her head. "I mean, Everett."

"Miss Everett," she affirmed, reaching up to the shelf behind her desk and pulling out a few items. "I need you to wash your hands and help Mr Scott cover the burn, alright? I'll be back in a jiff, all you need to do is put the gauze over it and wrap it with the bandage. You administered first aid before?"

"Uh… like bandaids and sprained wrists?" she questioned.

"That'll do, darlin'. You'll be fine. Just follow my instructions, okay?" she assured her. "Oh, and I can't let him leave 'til I come back. So when you're all done, you can get back to class."

The girl nodded as Ms Martin placed a gauze pad and bandage roll on the corner of her desk. Grabbing latex gloves and a respiratory mask from the confines of a closet, the woman dashed out of the room with no time to spare. Heeding her wishes, Clementine instructed Louis to sit on the bed while she washed her hands. Once she was done, she took the medical supplies from the desk and made her way over to an unusually silent Louis. Crouching just in front of him, she awkwardly held out her hand to take his, glancing up at him expectantly through her lashes.

"I'm going to be honest here. I feel pretty stupid right now," he admitted after a sigh, his tone strangely dulled and serious as he placed his hand in hers.

"Yeah," she huffed incredulously, "that was probably the stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do," she blinked, before noticing his embarrassment. "And, um… one of the funniest."

Louis suddenly glanced at her.

"Well, I'm just glad my pain could be found amusing to someone, at least," he playfully rolled his eyes, his chipper tone now returning. As she tried to unclip the hooks from the bandage roll, Louis cleared his throat. "You know, I wasn't expecting you to come to my rescue so quickly. I kind of expected you to put my hand back on the stove," he grinned, earning a shake of her head.

"Funny, but, no. I wouldn't do that to you Louis," she replied, placing the hooks in his other hand.

"Ah, well, thank goodness for that," he gave her a nod before pausing, observing the not-so-shiny ground below him. "So… you've—um, got quite the maternal instinct there," he told her, earning her perplexed gaze. "What's up with that?"

"Maternal instinct? I… What do you mean?" she grew flustered, lowering her hand from his.

"You know, running up to me, putting my hand under water, not letting go of me until we got here," he gestured his unscathed hand as he listed off.

Clementine's brows immediately furrowed.

"You don't think I…?" she blinked at him, her throat felt like it was closing up. "It's not like that— I— I just, I help, that's… that's something I do, it— I don't like—"

"Oh, you—you think I meant you liked me? No, that's… I— you— I didn't mean—"

"Good, because that's not what this is, you know, I just—"

"O- Of course not. You, um… you're just helping and—"

"Yeah, I am—"

"So of course… I don't… um…"

Clementine's eyes burned into the ground as Louis scratched the back of his head. Holy shit, this got awkward real fast.

"I've… got a little brother. Maybe that's where the… 'maternal instinct' came from. He's always falling off of something," she answered, shaking her head as she began to roll the bandage around his palm.

"Well, that's one thing your brother and I have in common," Louis grinned. "So, what's his name?" he questioned.

"AJ," she replied before shrugging. "Well, Alvin Junior."

"After your dad? Or, you know, I'm sure there's some lovely ladies out there somewhere with the name Alvin," he began to grin.

"No," she laughed, "Lee's our foster dad. AJ was named after his real dad, one of Lee's college friends. It's a—um… it's not a fun story."

"I get it," Louis frowned sympathetically. "You don't need to."

Clementine grabbed the hooks from his hand and clipped them onto his now bandaged palm. She stood up, folding her arms almost triumphantly.

"You're all done," she replied.

"Hmm," he hummed as he observed his hand, his mischievous eyes soon flickering back up to her. "This is a quite the wrap, Clementine. Almost an A+ job. Could use a little finesse though," he taunted, leaning back on his undamaged hand.

"It's a bandage, not an art project," she rolled her eyes.

"Could've fooled me," he said, staring up at her with his characteristically suave smile. "This thing's a thing of art," he continued, scoping his bandage out again.

Unable to contain her grin, Clementine turned away from Louis feeling like a fool. She wouldn't allow him to see the unspoken victory of her genuine smile at the hands of his words. You gotta get out of here, she thought to herself as she shook her head. Stupid Louis.

"I'm—uh… I should leave. Walter's probably expecting me back there," she said with her back turned to him.

"I guess I'll see you around, then," he replied, watching her head for the door. "And Clem?" he paused, waiting for her to turn around. "Thank you."

Clementine's eyes widened as she halted at the door way. She tried, desperately, to force out any sort of gratitude but fell short. Completely unexpectant of any praise, all she could do was look back at him and nod in acknowledgement. Then, she continued out of the room without a word, leaving him to sit alone in the nurse's office with a burning sensation in his palm, and in the pit of his stomach. To him, it seemed she was the thing of art.

Friday nights didn't seem to be so boring back in Macon. There might have been nothing to do at home, but at least Clementine could go out. Like taking AJ to the baseball field, seeing a movie with Lee, or maybe joining Naomi and her friends for bowling night. Naomi liked to suck up to the kids she thought were infinitely cooler than her – something about a lame social hierarchy? Clementine sometimes went along, mostly to watch out for her friend, other times to distract herself from the hostility at home. She wasn't one for conversation, instead watching Naomi smooth talk all the kids that looked nicer, dressed nicer, and acted nicer than Clementine ever could. It wasn't long before she wore them down and was eventually accepted into their group, often leaving Clementine to fend for herself amongst the horny teenage boys and rambunctious kids of the bowling alley. During one instance, some janky guy in a pristine baseball jersey (which she believed to be the number Javier Garcia wore) wouldn't stop pestering her for her number. She couldn't count on two hands how many times she said no, but it seemed the word just wasn't in his vocabulary. So when it was her turn to bowl, she rolled a seven-ten split with his cell phone. Naomi was cackling, but eventually stopped at the sight of her new friends' faces. When Clementine turned around, all of them, including the guy, stared at her like she was a maniac. She stopped going to the bowling alley after that.

When her other options weren't available, Clementine snuck out and roamed, watching stores close for the night or people chat as they walked home with their friends in the city light. She never wanted Lee to know she did that, considering how dangerous it was for a teenaged girl to roam the town late on a Friday night. At one point, she stumbled upon a bunch of people under a bridge in the suburbs. Teenagers, from her school. One recognised her, invited her down, and what ensued was one of the most casual discussions between teenagers she had ever seen. They spoke about the world, their school, and even their families. It became a habit to go down to the bridge every Friday night, it was like her very own safe haven. She didn't speak often or offer much of her two cents when it came to conversation, but she didn't mind sitting there and getting to know how all these people thought. And they didn't mind her being there. They weren't exactly friendly, but they weren't assholes either. They were just… kids, talking to other kids. There was the occasional drug deal that went down, but besides that, conversations would ensue like normal. However when school started back up after the summer and she saw some of them in the hall, not a single one gave her a second glance. The bridge and the connections she made were unofficially never to be spoken of, like some ominous, secret club. So whenever Audrey, or AJ, or Lee became too much, off would she go to the bridge, sitting there and listening to all these different philosophies on life. None of them were going to bother her during school, or show up at her house, or invite her to parties… it was what she wanted, at least so she thought. She subconsciously hated the exclusivity of it. They were the closest thing to friends that she had, maybe some communication was okay. It wasn't until one night when Lee was driving back home from his parents' pharmacy did he spot Clementine under the bridge. It was like time had slowed to a stop – he saw her, she saw him, and in that very moment, she knew that from then on, Lee would never stop driving past to make sure she was okay. He didn't want to stop her from going altogether, in fact, it was nice to see her amongst a bunch of friends. But like every father would be, he was concerned for her. For Clementine, it was easier to stop going altogether than it was to see Lee so worried, even if she was irritated at him for finding out. Even if it meant she couldn't escape the world to under that bridge.

And there went her safe haven.

Her first Friday night at Ericson's hadn't been as eventful as the last few days were. Half of the kids who went to the boarding school lived fairly close to the area, so a lot of them went home for the weekend. After Sarah sat down and did her homework with Clementine, she went home, as did Brody. And Violet was no where to be seen. She went to the library to pass some time with the hopes of finding a book to read, but after four pages, the tacky love interest was already making moves so she ditched the book and went back to her dorm. Staring into the empty room, it continued to dawn on her that there was still nothing to do. The school allowed Friday nights to be 'free time' for students, but without anyone around, there wasn't anything she could really sink her teeth into. Succumbing to her boredom, she even finished the extended questions on her homework. Then, the essay for Art History. And it was only nine. After mindlessly searching the drawers of the desk in her room, she found an empty notebook. Aasim mentioned something about 'chronicling everything' when he spoke to her during Social Studies, he seemed extremely invested in making sure almost all the details of the day were written down. After gazing at the notebook for a few moments, she figured she could give it a try. How hard would it be to write the day's events in some tattered, old notebook?

April 11, 2003
Friday

Boarding school is fucking boring.

Clementine glared down at the page, rereading her words before rolling her eyes. She struck through the ink and tried again.

Today is Friday. April 11, 2003. Today. Today… is the day of April 11.
The year, 2003. The fifth day in the week. Five.

"This is stupid," she declared to herself, ripping out the page and tossing the book back into the drawer.

As she sat at the desk, eyes burning into the wall in front of her, one relieving idea sprung to her mind.

Call Lee.

She hastily climbed out of the chair and darted over to the door, booking it down the hall and into the courtyard. She didn't need Louis' help; how hard could it be to make a quick call and get the hell out of dodge? Once she reached the administration building, she slowed her pace and quietly made her way up the stairs. It's not like she saw Louis around, anyway. As far as she knew, he wasn't even on school grounds. Reaching the corridor, she tip toed over to the door and slowly began to open it. He was probably at home, making jokes to his stupidly burnt hand.

"I'll be going home in five minutes, so I ask that you—"

Clementine halted as her eyes widened and locked directly with the Headmaster's. Ms Caul peered over her shoulder and at the girl, her brows then lowering into a glare.

"Ah, Miss Everett. Is there something you need?" the Headmaster questioned, closing the briefcase on his desk.

"Uh… nope," she shook her head, pursing her lips. "I just… I thought this was student services. Wrong door. My bad. I'll just leave—"

"Miss Everett, do you have something to tell us?" Ms Caul pointedly asked, her hand raising to her hip as she stared at the girl with suspicion. The Headmaster glanced at her oddly.

"No. I just made a mistake," Clementine responded, equally as pointed.

"Miss Everett, really, you're free to go," the Headmaster declared with a swat of his hand. "Just don't forget that lights are out at twelve tonight. You're dismissed."

Disgruntled, Clementine gave one last glare to Ms Caul before shutting the door.

Well, shit.

With no call to Lee and nothing else to do, she figured she could find some classwork to do in her locker before calling it an early night. After all, the sooner Lee found out she was on top of all her school work for the first time in, well, ever, the sooner he would pull her out of here. It wasn't that Clementine failed to be academically smart, what with Lee being a history professor and all, she spent the last eight years learning whatever civil war he could shove down her throat. It seemed to be a mixture of no motivation and strong motivation to do literally anything else that guaranteed a low grade throughout her high school years.

In the classroom building, Clementine headed for her locker and started to twist her combination in. Upon opening it, she was stared back at by the heaping mess of school work, text books, and stationary. She couldn't figure out how it got so messy in only the few days she had spent at the school.

Seriously, how did it get like this?

As she began to rearrange her books into an orderly fashion, a cluster of chattering students poured out from one of the classrooms on her left, assumingly finished with an extracurricular class.

"Really? You're not even touching the homework?"

"Dude, I don't do any of the after-class homework. Just showing up gets you a good enough grade," she heard Louis respond. "Why put in all the extra effort?"

"Damn, Lou," Mitch grinned. "I wouldn't have pinned you as such a slacker."

By the time she turned around, he and Mitch were already too close to avoid. It was either say something, or try to pretend she didn't just make eye contact with them three times.

"Uh, hey," she blurted out, shoving one of her textbooks back into her locker. "How's your hand, Louis?"

"Oh, this old thing?" he held up his bandaged hand. "She's fine. She's seen much worse days," he assured, earning Mitch's grimace.

"Eugh, God, I hope you don't call it a 'she' like Willy calls it a 'she'," Mitch recoiled.

"That's not what I mean," Louis deadpanned, his tone firming up.

"Fuckin' hope not," Mitch responded, shrugging his backpack up on his shoulder more securely. Clementine stared at the two, her lip slightly curled at the topic of conversation.

"So, Clem, got any plans for this lovely Friday night?" Louis began, leaning against one of the lockers and yet again receiving a grimace from Mitch. The girl hesitantly shook her head. "'Cause a bunch of us are going down to the safe haven in a bit, and, y'know, if you're not busy, you're more than welcome to join us," he shrugged seamlessly.

"The safe haven?" she curiously echoed.

"It's by some crummy shack near the river," Mitch explained. "We play cards, talk a little. Nothing too exciting. It sure as shit beats being cooped up in here all night, though."

"Can't say I disagree," Louis interjected. "So, you in? Or do I have to go disappoint the others with your lack of presence?"

"Disappoint the others or disappoint you?" Mitch teased through a mumble, crossing his arms over his chest with a sly grin. Louis' brows lowered into a deadpan once again.

"I guess I'm in, then," Clementine responded, slowly closing her locker.

As Mitch continued to downplay the excitement of the safe haven, concentration seemed to etch onto Louis' face as he curved his brows in thought.

"I would be going, but my mom's making me come home for my grandma's stupid birthday," Mitch grumbled. "Whatever. I raid her purse when she's over. She's so old, she probably forgets she even has one."

"Uh, right," Clementine nodded cautiously before turning back to Louis. "So… where are the others?"

"Right, yeah," Louis snapped back into action, shaking his head of his rumination. "Mitch can take you back to our dorm where Vi and Marlon are—"

"The fuck I can," he interjected, lip curled in denial.

"I gotta do something first—"

"My dad will be on my ass if I'm not at those gates when he is," Mitch firmly replied.

"Dude, I promise it won't be long," he planted his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Louis—"

"Just tell him class ended later than it was supposed to," he suggested, easing over to the courtyard doors. "Or blame me! I don't mind! Just get her to the dorm, I'll meet you all at the doors!" he called back to them, slipping out of the doors and leaving the pair by the lockers. Mitch sighed, muttering a few curses under his breath.

"Come on," he begrudgingly instructed, heading over to the doors.

Mitch guided Clementine back to the dorms where he took a left turn into the boys' domain. Not much was different from the girls' corridor, maybe besides the overpowering smell of cheap body spray and grime. After silence had taken reign of most of the time spent walking to the dorm, the boy beside her decided to finally speak up.

"Kate's cool, isn't she?" Mitch questioned, side-eying her as she walked.

"Uh… yeah, I'd say so," she replied, unexpectant of his topic of choice.

Mitch smirked to himself.

"She really understands. Not like all those other phoney 'therapists' out there," he shook his head, his naturally narrowed eyes staring in front of him. His expression then softened. "Kate gets you."

"She sure does," Clementine agreed for the sake of the conversation. It seemed like one wrong move, and he would blow up at her. Or 'raid her purse.' At least that was the vibe she was receiving.

Mitch started to chuckle to himself.

"This one time I saw her smoking behind the school. I was thinkin' it was weed, you know, it had to be. Her eyes were all bloodshot and she was acting all relaxed and stuff," he grinned to himself. "Told her I wouldn't tell anybody if she let me join her," he admitted as they came to a halt at the door. "It was weed."

"You smoked weed with the school's therapist?" Clementine's top lip curled in confusion.

"Yeah, you tried it?" he asked, his hands placed upon his hips.

Clementine hesitated for a moment, her mind recalling back to the last person she spoke about her experience with such a taboo. Louis.

"Um… no," she jaggedly replied, her brow quirking. Mitch scoffed.

"Stiff," he muttered, shaking his head as he opened the door to the dorm room. She grimaced.

Boys smoke weed one time and all of a sudden they're Bob Marley.

Inside the heavily decorated dormitory sat Marlon on one bed, and Violet on the opposite. Sports paraphernalia littered the walls, Ericson's banners stuck especially on the wall by Marlon's bottom bunk. It was every teenaged boy's wet dream to be surrounded by jerseys and signed posters as he slept at night. It was also sort of freaky how much Marlon was into it.

"Clementine," Marlon sat up from his bunk as he peered at the door. "Hey. You joining us tonight?"

"Louis wanted to bring her along," Mitch replied, hands planted firmly on his hips as he flicked his head to move his hair out of his eyes.

Marlon gave a slight huff, as if he were impressed by something that Clementine struggled to figure out. He nodded his head, taking a quick glance back at Violet who raised her brows at him.

"And where's the man himself?" Marlon questioned.

"Man?" Violet scoffed.

"Said he had to do some bullshit first. He'll meet you guys at the doors," Mitch replied, staring between the room's occupants. "Anyway, I gotta go get my ass handed to me by my dad for being late. See you turds later," he swatted his hand as a crude goodbye gesture before leaving.

"Later Mitch," Violet casually saluted him just shortly after he disappeared from the doorway.

"Well, you're more than welcome to join us, Clem," Marlon finally responded as if he clicked back into motion. "The group's been thinning out these last few weeks, it'd be great to bring along some newcomers."

"Yeah, maybe you'll actually make things interesting," Violet interjected, staring at the back of the blond boy's head. He rolled his eyes, approaching the girl by the door.

"It's a bit of a walk, but I'm sure you don't mind," he continued. "We'll just have to wait for Willy before we head off. He's usually our distraction."

"Distraction?" Clementine's brows raised as her arms folded.

"We gotta jump the walls to get outside them, duh," Violet grinned obviously, standing from the bunk. Clementine stared at the pair, dubious of what she had let herself get into. How would Lee feel if he found out she was sneaking out again? This time, from a damn boarding school?

"Sneaking out, huh?" Clementine raised a brow.

"It's somewhat of an effort, what with new, tougher guards being implemented by the gates every week, but it's worth the risk," Marlon replied with a grin of excitement. "One of the best things about the safe haven is the escape to it. Man, the adrenaline… it powers you."

"Piece of cake. Let's do it," Clementine nodded determinedly.

"You've done it before?" Violet asked.

"One of the best tricks of my many trades," she boldly replied.

It wasn't long before Clementine's tough talk was interrupted by Willy's arrival. The small group ventured off to the courtyard where they found Louis waiting by the doors of the administration building. His arms were awkwardly folded over his unusually protruding chest, but was failed to be noticed by the others as they hurried him towards the gates that lead to the greenhouse. The group hid in between the sparse bushes beside one of the walls where they then scoped out the guards on duty.

"Alright," Marlon muttered to himself, "two by the main gate… one by the greenhouse gate..."

His eyes narrowed in on the men, reluctantly drifting to their holstered guns. Tougher security, tougher escape. He knew they weren't allowed to shoot kids, god forbid they ever did. So, whatever threat was outside of those gates, he and the crew had yet to encounter. It may have been just a scare tactic for students not to leave, or maybe, just maybe, they lucked out every single time they sneakily stepped foot outside the walls. Marlon let out a firm breath.

"What the plan here?" Violet pressured, intently awaiting an answer from the boy.

"We're gonna switch it up this time," he replied, soon pointing his dirty finger at the guards by the main gate. "I'll speak to the guards. Get them to head up to the Headmaster for an "important business meeting." Then, we'll get Willy to work his magic on the stooge by the greenhouse area. That way, we can go through the main gate instead of jumping over the wall."

"But the wall near the greenhouse is closer to the safe haven," Louis mentioned. "Why not try there?"

"We almost got caught last time we tried to jump it. I'm not putting us all at risk again," Marlon adamantly replied. "We're going for that gate. Willy, get yourself ready," he ordered.

"One way ticket to puke town coming up," Willy excitedly whispered. He pivoted around to face the wall and before Clementine knew it, echoed the gargled sounds of muffled dry heaving.

"No, stop," Clementine stared at him wildly, her eyes then flickering at Marlon. "The plan isn't solid enough. Once the guards find out Ericson doesn't need them, they'll be back here before Willy can even get his puke up," she told him. "Going through those main gates will make way too much noise, too. And it looks like they're already catching on to you guys sneaking out. You said those guards are getting tougher by the week, which means you won't be able to give them the slip as easily as you used to. We need a better plan."

"Well, what do you suggest?" Louis asked, shrugging.

"If we're going to do this, then we need to get the guards away from the courtyard for more than thirty seconds," she informed them. "Willy needs to do something more outrageous than just puke up on a guard—"

"I wasn't just going to puke on him," Willy interrupted, "I was going to throw it at him too!" he corrected.

"Eugh—" Violet shook her head.

"Okay, now that is disgusting," Louis recoiled. "That's what you had in mind? Doing the technicoloured yawn?"

Clementine paused for a moment, relaying the information in her head. As much as she desired to get the hell away from this place, she couldn't help but want to see Willy at his most grotesque. Call it a morbid curiosity, she called it entertaining.

"That… might actually work," she blinked, earning the abhorred stares of her peers. "As gross as it is, and it definitely is… if you can get all the guards to chase you away from the courtyard, that would give us more time to jump over the greenhouse walls. The gates to that area are already open, so we won't make any noise. No one can catch us if no one's around."

Marlon stirred in his crouching position, his knee bouncing as he considered her plan. Louis and Violet looked to him almost curiously, unsure of what his verdict would be. When their friend was set on something, he was truly set on it. Not much deterred him from his desires. Especially if it impacted either his friends, or his position as sophomore student body leader. Whatever rule breaking he was about to undertake had to be almost fool-proof.

"You think we'll be able to get all those guards to chase him?" Marlon questioned, curious of her logic as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"If he poses himself as a big enough threat, then there shouldn't be a problem," she replied, giving him a nod. "Willy, all you have to do is go totally crazy. Like, batshit crazy."

"Yeah, I like that," he excitedly agreed, pulling a gap-toothed grin. "Where do you want me to go once I'm out of the courtyard?"

"Uh… Headmaster's office," Violet sporadically replied. "They'll definitely follow you if you're threatening to go after Ericson."

Willy delivered a final nod before glancing over to Marlon.

"You better get me out of trouble," he demanded, his snappy eyes narrowing in on the boy.

"Always," Marlon ruffled his hair, giving him a curt nod. "Now get your ass out there. Make us proud."

Taking a deep breath, Willy plunged his fingers down his throat once again, continuing to dry heave before he wiped the dripping saliva from his chin and stood up. The trio grimaced at the kid as Clementine watched him intently, observing her plan as he conducted it. Willy then charged over to the middle of the courtyard and gave one final dry heave before spewing chunks all over the flag pole.

"Ah, Jesus Christ, kid…" the guard by the greenhouse gate shook his head, sighing as he made his way over to Willy.

"I knew that cafeteria food looked a little off today," one of the guards by the main gate mentioned to the other.

As the greenhouse guard placed his hand on Willy's back, the boy swiftly scooped up a heap of his own vomit and flung it at the man, causing him to stumble back, sputtering.

"Pbbt! Wh- what the fuck, kid?!" he gagged, hastily wiping the chunks off his face.

"Holy shit," Violet muttered under her breath.

"Holy shit!" one of the guards by the main gate called out, snickering as he slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, grow up, Dale," the guard beside him scoffed, thumbs tugging contently on her belt loops.

"Get away from me!" Willy barked, tears and snot streaming down his face from the unpleasant stinging of puke. "I hate you! I hate this school!"

Willy gathered up a heap of his vomit again before racing over to the guards by the main gate. Like children utterly terrified of a spider, they scurried away from the gate as soon as they saw him approach. The greenhouse guard hesitated to fully grab at him at the threat of having chunder thrown in his face again.

Marlon glanced at Clementine cautiously, watching her as she concentrated. He was utmost astounded that she wired a plan together so quickly, he wouldn't have figured a girl so aloof had it in her to devise such rapid strategies. More shockingly, it was working.

"This is the worst thing I've ever seen," Louis harshly whispered.

"Give it a second," Clementine grinned, appeased by her craft.

All of the guards either begged or threatened Willy to put the dripping mess of upchuck down and to go wash off, to which he answered with one simple remark:

"Fuck you! I'll just put this all over Ericson and his stupid desk instead!"

The guards gawked at each other in utter disbelief before looking back at Willy. With vomit in hand and a triumphant sniffle, the kid turned around and booked it for the administration building. The guards scrambled to chase after him, quickly disappearing from the courtyard and into the building.

"Now!" Clementine instructed, darting out of the bush running past the greenhouse gates.

"Come on, get your asses in gear!" Marlon called out to the others.

The crew followed her as she led them to the side wall of the greenhouse area. Once met with nine feet of pure concrete stones, she halted.

"Who's the strongest?" she promptly asked, looking between Louis and Marlon. Louis held his finger up matter-of-factly.

"That would be m—"

"Not you," Violet interjected.

"Alright. Marlon, I need you to boost us up," Clementine requested, then pointing upwards. "Louis, you sit on top of the wall and help get us over. Marlon can jump up afterwards and we'll pull him over together," she told them. "We don't need to rush, but we should work fast."

"Okay, go," Marlon nodded at Louis, cupping his hands just atop of his knee as he knelt down.

"I… uh, okay," he fumbled with his jacket for a moment before stepping on Marlon's hands, his own planted against the wall. As they did, Louis' bandage came into full view of Clementine's now concerned eyes.

"Shit, Louis, I forgot about your hand," Clementine scratched her head, observing the dirty bandage.

"Oh, this? It's not an issue. Don't worry about it," he assured her, turning to give her a wink. "I could do this with my eyes closed—"

"Get off my fuckin' hands, Louis," Marlon gritted his teeth in pain.

"Oh, right, sorry buddy."

With one hefty boost from Marlon, Louis pulled himself up the thick, concrete walls and despite the pain in his hand, manoeuvred himself sit on top of it. Legs on either side, he leaned down and held his hand out to his dearest friend Violet, gesturing her to hop up and grab it.

Violet rolled her eyes and stepped up on Marlon's hands. He hoisted her up as she promptly latched onto Louis' hand, using her feet to climb up the wall. She then jumped over and landed in the dirt amongst the bushes, regaining her balance and dusting herself off.

Louis then peered down to find Clementine already awaiting his helpful hand, hers partially extended up towards him. He hesitantly took it as she hesitantly accepted it, using Marlon's boost to place her knee on top of the wall. Still firmly grasping his hand, she pulled herself forward as he steadied her balance, his injured hand instinctively attracting to her. She then turned and sat opposite of him, straddling the wall just as he did. But whilst their hands released, he couldn't help but continue to watch her, even after she had turned away from him long ago. For such a high-risk yet secure plan, what drove his anxiety was her, and it had been all along. She was like a punch to the gut, one where all the wind is knocked out of you and you fall to your knees, gasping and panicking. But air couldn't seem to find it's wait into your lungs. Until it did, and as is filled back up inside you, revitalising you, you would understand that it was one of the most alleviating feelings in the world. Allowing that moment of physicality with him was the crisp air, seeping its way back into his windless lungs.

"Louis? Louis!" Marlon called out to him, awaiting his hand as he stepped on the protruding stones of the wall.

Louis' eyes unstuck from Clementine as he glanced down at his best friend, his hand immediately reaching down to grab his. He and the girl assisted Marlon to the top of the wall, watching him balance himself before jumping down to Violet.

"Jump, Louis," Clementine told the boy beside her as they both swung their legs around. She had noticed his hesitance.

"I think I need a hand," he joked, holding up his injured palm and cracking his usually charming smile. With a roll of her eyes, Clementine planted her hand on the back of Louis and pushed him off the wall, watching him land luckily on his feet.