Camp Cretaceous: What Do We Do Now?

by Ecaetheerein

We thought it'd be fun… We thought we'd be safe… But we didn't realize the horror waiting for us on the island. Claws, teeth, screaming… so much screaming. But despite the challenges, we survived the night. Well... some of us. And now that we've been left on the island, we're faced with the challenge of surviving until help arrives... If it arrives...

46. Ep46 House of Cards

Author's note:

So sorry for the wait. Things be busy... not sure when the next chapter will come out... I'll aim for a month's posting time but we'll see...

So today is a special day: What Do We Do Now?s 1st birthday! It's been exactly one year since I first posted this story! 1 year of writing with these bozos, lol. We've come a long way from the beginning, haven't we? Gone through a lot of changes in locations, character devlopment, and even state of body, lol.

Thank you for being such a really good fanbase. I'm thankful that y'all are very considerate and respectful over the comments, compared to other commenting sections. Without the support and reception, I would've ended the story with them leaving the hospital... originally, they weren't even going to live in the same states! Thanks to your encouragement, (and the unresolved plotlines) I've continued to follow them as they go about their recovery journey... unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and I won't be able to write forever. Don't worry, the end isn't anytime soon, but it's coming... as sad as it is to think about.

This story will always hold a special place in me heart. It's helped me practice and work on my writing skills as well as explore the characters and give my writing to the world. I must thank the Lord for the gift he's given me, as well as the desire to write this story and spend as much time and effort into it as I have.

And now for the pesky warnings, lol. No depression or suicidal plotlines today. But the campers can't let their 1st birthday be boring! No, they decided to go out with a bang! And, of course, add a new plotline that I neither expected nor planned... and kind of don't want to write at times. But, it is what it is! The only warning I have is implied romance and heavy topics such as teen pregnancy and abortion. No smut, but be warned, it is mentioned.

Anyways, enjoy!

---

"Yay!" Sammy claps as Darius limps into her house.

The boy grins. "It feels so weird," he laughs. He had just come back from the doctors office, having missed his last class to get his cast off. "I know he said that my leg would be a bit smaller, but it's still a shock how shrimpy it is."

"How does it feel to walk?" the paraplegic asks as he comes to sit down next to her on the couch.

"Like a weak, floppy noodle," Darius says, making her laugh. "My right leg feels like a strong ox, and my left leg feels like a newborn foal."

The cowgirl snorts at the farm visual. "Do you have to walk with crutches for a while?"

"Not necessarily, but I will because my leg feels pretty weak right now," he shrugs. "Just for a couple of days while I get used to walking again. The doctor said I might limp for months afterwards. If it's worse after a couple of weeks, we'll go back. But considering my femur was crushed and some of my hip was replaced, I think I'll end up limping for a while… possibly for life…"

"Don't say that," Sammy says firmly. "You'll heal up completely and be totally fine."

"You think so?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Positive," she nods. "You're already walking on it, I believe God will heal you completely. Who knows," she chuckles, gently elbowing him, "maybe you'll grow back your hip and they'll have to take out the replacement."

The two laugh. "Yeah, I don't have the faith for that," Darius chuckles. "But I'll agree with you when you say I won't limp."
"Amen," she grins.

"You're positive?" he furrows an eyebrow.

"Positive."

"You sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"Without a doubt?"

"Of course without a doubt!"

Convinced, Darius hmphs in surprise.

"What 'hmph?'" Sammy sputters in offense.

"Nothing," he says, much to her frustration. "Where's the others?"

"I think Brooklynn and Kenji are hanging at her house or something," the paraplegic says, easily distracted. "Yaz said her family was gonna go see their grandparents and aunts and uncles in New Mexico. And I don't know where Ben is…"

"He's having a therapy session with Miss Anita," Darius informs her. "You should go, she's fun. And helpful," he adds as Sammy gives him a look.

"Ha, thought therapy was supposed to help you git over trauma, not have fun," she snorts.

"Yeah, well, I've only been to one session with her, and we didn't dive too deeply into my trauma," he grins. "It was more of getting to know each other. She's really nice and funny. I think you'd like her."

"Yeah, if she can get Yaz to move on her opinion of therapy, how can I dislike her?" the cowgirl chuckles.

"I wonder just how she did it," Darius nods. "How did she get through Yaz's tough exterior, in the first session, nonetheless!"

"Yeah! Maybe she was just that desperate," Sammy shrugs. "She's been very low, mentally, lately… I'm glad she's feeling better now, though."

"Hopefully it'll stick…" Darius murmurs.

"Why do ya think it wouldn't?" Sammy asks, tilting her head.

"I just mean when it gets dark and hard, will her resolve to fight stay?" Darius shrugs. "Oh, who am I kidding, it's Yaz. She's stubborn. I'm just saying, depression seems to be hard to move on from. Brooklynn was doing better, and now she's doing worse…"

"When was she doing better?" Sammy asks.

Darius sputters. "I guess she never got better, it just seemed like it after she tried to kill herself… We were trying to survive those last few days, so her depression took the backburner…"

"Yee, that's fair," Sammy nods. "Well I'm sure that Yaz will pull through. If she's the one too stubborn to let her ankle heal, she'll beat depression."

Darius nods. "Brooklynn's the one I'm worried about… She seems to be getting worse. And I'm not fully sure what's wrong… I think I know… I think she's trying to impress Leah. Still seeking her approval. I just… I just know that won't end well… I just wish I could… could… I don't know… I wish I could stop her from seeking Leah's attention…"

"Yeah," Sammy murmurs.

The two sit in silence. "So how's your physical therapy going?" Darius asks.

Sammy sighs. "It's good… I haven't really regained much movement, yet… I can feel more, but can't really move… But, I'm positive that I will recover," she adds with little conviction.

"Well, at least some things progressed," he nods. "You been trying the exercises they give you?"

"Yeah…" she murmurs. "I try to, anyway. Been kinda busy lately."

Darius nods, looking at his crossed arms. He had a feeling she didn't have the motivation to actually do her exercises most of the time.

"But," she says, forcing a smile. "I'm sure I'll get better. Positive. Like I should be," she tschs.

Darius raises an eyebrow.

"Lately, Kenji's been tellin' me I shouldn't be positive," she sighs in frustration after seeing his face.

"What?" the boy asks in confusion. "Why would he tell you that?"

"Okay, that's not exactly right," the parapelgic sighs. "He thinks I'm forcing myself to be positive and faking it. He thinks I'm not acting the way that I feel and that I shouldn't be positive all the time… Says it's like lying."

Darius winces. "Well… have to say, I kinda side with Kenji on this one… You don't seem happy, and it's… kinda obvious that you're putting up a face to seem happy."

Sammy sighs in frustration. "You think I'm fakin' it, too?!"

"Are you actually happy?" he asks.

She is silent for a moment. "1 Thessalonians 5:18: Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. God wants us to be happy and positive and grateful at all times, which is what I am trying to do."

Darius blinks. "Wow, I applaud you for having that memorized off the top of your head."

Sammy snickers.

"And second…" he chews on his lip. "I think you're… not actually doing what God wants. I mean, he wants you to truly be happy and grateful in all circumstances, not just act like it. It… You're kind of just acting the part right now… Trust in God. Trust that he's in control and be thankful towards him. That's what he truly wants from you. Your heart and your love, not just your actions."

The parapelgic tschs, miffed that no one understood her thought process, not even her fellow Christians. "Yeah, we both need to. Trust that God is in control. Trust that he will heal us and save our friends." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she bites her lip, realizing it was sort of a dig at him after his worrying about Brooklynn.

The words didn't seem to sink into Darius. "Yeah, it's a good thing to do."

After a few moments of silence, their conversation is interrupted by one of the Gutierrez's dogs peeing on the floor, disrupting both them and Sammy's mother, who had to clean up the mess.

---

"Well, if it isn't the famed Miss Anita," Ben grins as he sits down in the therapy chair.

"Indeed it is," the woman smiles with a chuckle. "Ben Pincus, I presume?"

"Fitzgerald," he says. "Ben Fitzgerald Pincus, to be exact."

"What a lovely name," the therapist nods. "My full name is Anita Greta Vetrovs."

"Such an exceptional name," the boy grins. "How for art thou?"

"Splendid," she laughs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Is this your usual behavior?"

"No, I asked my Mom what to do, and she said be polite," Ben smirks. "I might have overdone it."

"That's okay, if you want to be Shakespeare, go for it," Miss Anita chuckles.

Ben grins.

"Have you had therapy before?" she asks.

"Yep," he nods. "And that was before the PTSD of the island."

"Did you have trauma from a past event, or anxiety in general, or something else?" the therapist asks.

"Definitely had a lot of anxiety and panic attacks," Ben sighs. "Paranoia, OCD, anxiety, possibly PTSD from when I was a toddler… can't remember anything. Yet."

"Do you think you will?" she asks.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I hope not, but my friend Yaz recently recovered a repressed memory so I don't know… I was almost three when it happened, so I don't know if my memory goes that far back… I had a traumatic home life with my biological family before being put in the foster care system for a few months. We suspect possibly one reason I've had bad anxiety is PTSD from that traumatic life…"

Mrs. Vetrovs nods. "Sounds like it could be a likely possibility. How is your home life now?"

"Amazing," Ben smiles. "I was adopted by my parents after their friend, a social worker, informed them of my situation. They're super great parents; couldn't ask for better parents. I love my grandparents and aunts and uncles back in Maryland. Cousins are a different story… Most of them were fine, but the older boys were bullies to me… besides that, my family life was great."

"Were you bullied in school alongside your cousin's bullying?"

"Yep, definitely. It was brutal. Sometimes violent. I beat them up after I came back from being on the island." Ben grins, then shudders at the memory. "I almost killed them… I almost killed them," he thinks.

"They attacked first," he says quickly, a little worried about how his last sentence sounded. "They surrounded me at the park and beat me up first… Me fighting back was mostly self-defense… although… my PTSD might have interfered and… I might have gotten a bit confused as to where I was…"

"Lashed out more violently than you should have?" Mrs. Vetrovs tries to clarify.

"Yeah… treated him like a predator… like a dinosaur predator," Ben nods solemnly.

"Anger and irritability can be signs of PTSD," Miss Anita nods.

"Wish it wasn't," Ben murmurs, feeling guilty for his angry behavior.

"Well, is that something you want to work on in therapy?" she asks.

He nods.

"Is there anything else you hope to get out of therapy?"

"I want a better hold on my anxiety… For some reason, it doesn't pop up as much as it used to, despite where I've been… But I have been feeling anxious lately. I also want to find ways to cope with flashbacks and panic attacks related to the island. I guess I just want to know how to cope with what I've dealt with better."

"We can definitely find ways for you to cope," she nods, scribbling in her notebook. "Lastly, do you have a history of self-harm or suicidal thoughts? Or a history of mental issues in your family?"

"Mmmm…" he thinks for a second. "I don't think anyone in my family has issues… that I know of. I've thought of suicide before, but it's not a major issue… Most of those thoughts occurred on the island when I was unsure I would survive. Never really hurt myself before."

Miss Anita nods, writing that down in her notebook.

"Did we go through all the questions you needed to ask?" Ben asks.

"We did," she says, looking up at him. "Are there any questions you'd like to ask, or would you rather get to know each other casually?"

"I think I'd like to get to know you," Ben smiles. "Do you have any kids?"

"Nope, not yet," she chuckles. "I'm not even married."

"Why? Haven't found the right guy or you over analyze all your options' mental health?" Ben asks, making her laugh. "That's something I've wondered, do therapists analyze their friends and families?"

"It can be hard not to," she sighs. "But I have to refrain from doing that. While I do love my job, it can be exhausting, and I don't want to be analyzing people all the time. It's also hard to have a completely unbiased look on situations and people when you know them. I can have an unbiased, neutral opinion of you because I don't know you. It's harder to think that way with, say, my sisters because I see them differently, you know?"

"That makes sense," Ben nods. "So, you're not going around digging into the minds of the random people at grocery stores?"

"Contrary to popular belief, nope," Mrs. Vetrovs chuckles. "What sort of hobbies do you have?"

"Hmm…" Ben thinks. "Before the island, my life sort of… revolved around my anxiety and OCD. I like cleaning and organizing, if that's considered a hobby."

"I guess if it's not controlling your life, it could be a hobby?" she shrugs.

"Yeah, that wasn't a hobby then," he chuckles sheepishly. "I was never really the sporty type of boy… I wish I was, but athletics weren't really my thing."

"Why do you wish you were sporty?" Miss Anita asks.

"Because when you did sports you were cool and strong…" the boy sputters, sinking down in his seat. "I admire athletes… they're so strong and powerful. They can endure so much and have a ton of control over their bodies. Like Yaz. She's so fast and powerful. Like a cheetah."

"It's okay if you're not an athletic kid," the therapist says. "I wasn't very athletic, either. I certainly understand the desire to be one, though."

Ben nods. "I've always been more of a brainy, artistic kid. I like science. Not like chemistry and tubes and petri dishes. More like nature and anatomy. That sort of science. Even though I'm squeamish."

Miss Anita chuckles. "So plants and animals and scientific names and such?"

"Yeah, those were my hobbies," Ben grins. "And languages. I'm a word geek. I like advancing my English vocabulary with big words. Also like learning about names and their backgrounds."

"Do you like learning other languages, too?" she asks.

"Yeah, though I usually don't have the focus or motivation to become fluent," he chuckles. "I've dabbled in a lot of languages… Italian is probably the main one, mostly cause my Mom's side has strong Italian roots. Also tried to learn Hebrew and Yiddish for my Dad's side… his Jewish ancestry isn't as strong as Mom's Italian ancestry, though."

"Those are interesting languages," she smiles, taking a sip of water.

"Sì," he grins. "I've tried bits of Spanish, French, and Latin, too. I think I've randomly tried German and Russian, as well… Arabic at some point… I think I tried Korean a year ago… I don't know, it all blends together. I hear something or get interested in a particular culture and language and start learning words or the alphabet, and then I lose interest."

"I understand that," she laughs. "Do you like literature or poetry?"

"Both," he says. "Something I was made fun of in school for. Mostly when I expand my English, it's formal and eloquent ways to insult bullies behind their backs, heh."

"Example?" Miss Anita asks, grinning.

"You, sir, are an abydocomist, bespawling, cumberworld," Ben says superiorly.

"What does that mean?" she laughs.

"You sir, are a bragging liar, slobbering, useless person," he translates, making her cackle. "My favorite is when Google decides I need to know these random words," he continues. "Like cacoethes. An irresistible urge to do something inadvisable."

"I think that one is very useful," Mrs. Vetrovs smirks.

"Very much so," he nods. "I can think of a few friends that that applies to… One word that really stuck out in my mind was callipygian. Means having a nice shaped buttocks. It's funny, that one I have no use for, it just stuck out in my mind because I wasn't expecting the definition. I don't know where in real life I'd use that…" he trails off and his face turns pink as a thought dawns. "No, naughty Ben, stop…" he smacks his head in embarrassment.

Miss Anita snickers. "What is it?"

"Noooo, it's so bad," he hides his face. "I shouldn't say it…"

His therapist purses her lips in mischievous amusement. "You just thought of someone you could apply the word 'callipygian' to?"

"I did," Ben says, sheepish and embarrassed.

Mrs. Vetrovs sits back in her chair with a smirk. "Is it your crush?"

Ben groans with a chuckle. "Perhaps… It's Yaz I'm thinking of… Don't tell her, it popped into my mind without warning."

His therapist laughs.

"Gosh, that's such an embarrassing thought," Ben groans, ashamed of where his mind went. "Kenji would be proud of me… Okay, in my defense, have you ever seen someone with a misshapen butt? Most people have a regular-shaped butt, I'm not being weird or anything."

Miss Anita was trying not to wheeze too hard in her chair. "It's okay, we all have weird thoughts that we're not sure how we got in there. I don't think you're creepy or anything."

"I know, it's just… she isn't comfortable with romance, and we're friends, so I don't want to think about her in that sort of way," Ben nods. "It feels like a violation of her to think about that… On the subject of weird thoughts, have you ever imagined marrying a dinosaur?"

Mrs. Vetrovs does a spit take in her drink.

"In my defense, Kenji and Yaz were the ones who put the idea in my mind!" Ben gets defensive with a laugh. "After the first time I met my dino pet, Bumpy, Yaz summed up the experience as, 'Ben fell in love with a dinosaur.' And a couple days later Kenji referred to her as my dino crush. So the idea of 'What if humans and dinos could marry and have kids?' wandered in!"

The therapist was holding her side from laughter.

"I promise you, I'm not weird!" Ben insists, laughing, too. "It was a weird thought that came when I was sleep deprived and exhausted and injured! I don't want to marry a dino!" Ben shudders at the vile thought.

"Ohh, I was not expecting that," Miss Anita wheezes. "You had a pet dino?"

"Yeah, back on the island," Ben says, a sharp pang in his heart appearing. His smile falls. "She was an Ankylosaurus. We visited the lab on our second day. One of the eggs began to hatch early. At first, I was disgusted because some of the mucus or whatever was in the egg ended up on me. The little baby fell off the counter and without thinking, I caught her. She had the egg shell still on her head like a little hat."

Ben chuckles fondly at the memory. "I took the little egg shell hat off to reveal the cutest little face. She had the biggest, black eyes and a stubby little mouth. Her horns were asymmetrical; one horn was smaller than the other. Her bumpy shell was so smooth. I mean, it was bumpy, but not rough. She was so tiny… I could hold her in the palm of my hand. She'd made these cute little warbles."

Ben imitates baby Bumpy's sounds with a shy chuckle.

"She sounds so cute," Miss Anita smiles.

"Yaz was right, it was love," Ben sighs. "Not romantic love, but like how you love a pet. I had never had a pet before. She was a companion, a guard dog, and a fur baby all at the same time. Er, a scale baby. She grew quickly from being able to fit in my hand to being the right size to ride. I could ride her about a week or so after she was born. Without her, I had zero advantages out there."

A flashback to the island comes, gentler than the rest. Not so much that it was nice, more in that it wasn't violent or terrifying. It was the night after falling off the monorail. Ben's first night alone… "I hope my mother isn't hurting too bad. I promise, Mom, I'll come back to you," he murmured. He laid his head on Bumpy's ever-growing shell, trying to fall asleep on the wretched island. "They left me… They left me…" fear whimpers in his mind.

The sense of abandonment takes a hold of his spirit. Ben shivered and curled up, wincing as his wounds stung. The campers never came back for him… Even though he knew that there was no logical reason for them to come back for him—by all reasoning, he was as good as dead—but it still hurt that they left. Roxie and Dave never came back for them… Ben was starting to wonder if his own parents would look for him. Even though they would tell his parents that he was surely dead, would they still try to find him? Or would they accept his death and move on?

Tears welled up as the re-realization that no one would come for him dawned. He was left to die by everyone he cared about… Everyone he loved had abandoned him…

"Lord, are you still there?" Ben asked aloud, looking up at the sky in hope. "God, are you with me?"

Nothing but the gentle sound of the light rain answered him.

Ben stiffles a sob. "God… don't leave me… don't leave me unprovided… don't leave me alone… …"

At that moment, Bumpy stirred. The little Ankylosaurus got to her feet, startling Ben. She stared into the jungles tensely. Ben's heart began to race. "Bumpy…" he whimpered.

The Ankylo bellowed a warning as a small herd of parasaurolophus' passed through. Despite her tiny size, Bumpy bellowed at them and made sure the herd didn't come close to her human.

Ben smiled wearily as his feeling of abandonment was replaced by gratitude. "You did provide…" he murmured. "You provided Bumpy… Thank you…"

Ben shakes his head, coming back to reality.

"Is everything okay?" Miss Anita asks.

"Y-yeah, I'm alright," Ben nods, blinking back tears.

"You can open up about it if you want," the therapist reminds him.

"I know," he nods, taking in a shaky breath. He knew he could open up… but he didn't want to at the moment. The feeling of abandonment was starting to come back. He felt alone… Vulnerable… Opening up and talking about it was not what he wanted to do. He wanted to run… strangely, he wanted to run back to Isla Nublar… Where a certain Ankylosaurus was…

"Do you miss your dinosaur?" Mrs. Vetrovs asks.

Ben nods. "Yeah… I… I got separated from the group the night of the disaster… spent a week or two without them… Bumpy was with me the whole time. With my injuries and general ignorance about surviving in the wild… she was my key to survival… Her and God."

The therapist nods. "It was hard to let her go, wasn't it?"

"Part of me wishes I… wishes I could bring her back," Ben says, refraining from saying his original thought of, 'I wish I could go back to the island.' He sighs and tries to change topics. "I've got ways of dealing with my anxiety, but I'm not sure what I can do for PTSD."

"Anxiety can be a part of PTSD," Miss Anita says. "A lot of the ways to cope with PTSD are similar to ways to deal with anxiety. Deep breathing exercises, muscle relaxation tactics, meditation."

"Yeah, I've got a couple of those in my anxiety coping routine," Ben nods.

"Social support groups also help," she suggests. "I know your best friends went through it with you, but you could also reach out to other survivors from the island. Maybe even some from the original park."

"They probably have years of experience with the PTSD," Ben nods.

"Like I told Yaz, you could also try artistic and soothing ways to come to terms with your feelings and emotions," the therapist continues. "Expressive writing, drawing, creating something, doing a puzzle, whatever you can to express the feelings you generally internalize. You can also become more active and find ways to distract yourself and redirect your focus. Running, playing a sport, yoga. One of my personal favorite activities for PTSD is doing jigsaw puzzles. It focuses my attention somewhere else and gives me different mental stimulus."

Ben nods.

"You could also try aromatherapy or getting another pet," she suggests.

Ben internally grimaces. "Yeah, my parents got me a puppy. She's been… pretty helpful."

"All she does is remind me of Bumpy," he thinks sorrowfully. "Thanks for the ideas," he says, forcing a smile.

Miss Anita notices it, but decides not to push him, as he didn't want to open up. The two talk about other casual topics before Ben's therapy session is over.

That night, Ben ends up sleeping on his own. Yasmina had come back from her grandparents house tired, and her family wanted to wind down without seeing anyone else for the day. Sammy had her siblings for the night. Kenji was spending time with his father undisturbed, and Brooklynn and Milton were sleeping over with Darius and Brandon. That terrifying feeling of abandonment swelled up in the boy again, but Ben pushed it away and held his tongue.

Laying in bed with his dog on the floor, Ben stared into the darkness in anxiety. Flashbacks to the feelings he had on the island roll by throughout the night, reminding him of his time there. Shivers ran up his spine as they came, some so suddenly that his spine would contract without warning.

Tears spill out as he rolls over onto his back, his left hand stroking the pillow next to him. He wished he had said something earlier. Wished he had asked for someone to stay with him during the night. Even if it had just been his mother or father.

"Bumpy… I need you… I can't survive without you…" he thinks.

A feeling of strong guilt rises up in him, shocking him. "I've placed my faith in my dinosaur. I trust Bumpy over God. How can I claim to be a strong Christian when I can't trust my God to carry me through a calm night?"

Ben starts quietly sobbing. "I'm sorry… Don't leave me God… I'm sorry…"

He knew it was condemnation… But he couldn't help but hear the truth in it. Around the others, he gave the Lord the glory for getting them through the trials. For getting Ben through those harrowing first weeks on the island. He had strong faith and gratitude… but for whatever reason, all those convictions were wavering that night. Ben tries to remember all the times God got him through his struggles on the island. But every memory had Bumpy in it… Leaving Ben wanting his dino companion.

"God gave you Bumpy to help you through it… she was given by God… I don't need her to survive, I need God…" he tells himself. But it wasn't doing him any good. All he could think about was how much he missed his dino companion and how vulnerable he was without her.

"I'm sorry, God…" he sobs silently. "After all you've done… after all you've provided… I'm doubting you and placing my trust in the gift you gave… I'm sorry… I need you… I need help…"

A noise and movement on the bed startles Ben. He snaps his head to his right to see his dog, Flopsy, climbing onto the bed. She begins to lick his tears and curls up next to his side, looking up at him with her big brown eyes in concern.

Ben spends the night cuddling his dog and trying to combat his feelings and thoughts. He ends up with very little sleep and almost no progress in his faith. The morning leaves Ben feeling like he backslided in his faith, which didn't put him in a good mood. "God, what is wrong with me?" he wonders, grudgingly deciding to get up and start the day.

---

"The cattle got out esta mañana, again," Mrs. Gutierrez pipes up.

"Yep," Mr. Gutierrez sighs, planting his beefy hands on his equally beefy hips.

"Is that a regular occurrence?" Mr. Kon asks, seeming a bit out of place standing in the homey Texas kitchen in his crisp, navy blue suit.

"Sì, sucede mucho," Mr. Gutierrez nods, then chuckles, realizing he spoke the wrong language. "Er, yeah, it happens a lot," he translates.

Mr. Kon nods, his solemn, businessman expression never budging. He hardly ever wore any other expression. "Is it a faulty design in the fencing?"

As the men talk cattle and ranch problems, with Mrs. Gutierrez and Abuela commenting here and there, Kenji stands in the corner of the kitchen. The boy had been happy when his father came over to pick him up from the Gutierrez's. Since he was still suspended, he had helped out around the ranch with the Gutierrez men. His father had come to pick him up and take him to the office. He would show him around the business and teach Kenji a bit more about running the place before the two would see a late showing of a movie.

Kenji was grateful that his two father figures were together. He had been wanting to talk about the accusations brought against him for almost a week now. To date, only Ben and Yasmina knew about them. Possibly Brooklynn, if she had been on the Internet. The boy was sure that such accusations would spread like wildfire across the Internet. No doubt they would make their way to Brooklynn, seeing as his social media accounts were pretty much dead and the only time he went public was on her social media accounts.

There were a few reasons why Kenji had waited almost a week before bringing it up. For one, he never had his father and Mr. Gutierrez in the same room long enough to bring it up. Kenji wanted to tell Mr. Gutierrez, but he felt guilty about it. Now, whenever the boy needed an older man to talk to about something, his first thought was Mr. Gutierrez. He felt guilty about it, especially when he realized that Ben and Yasmina's fathers popped into his mind alongside his biological father. When it came to a father figure, he had four, and sadly, his biological father wasn't high on the list. "At least Brooklynn's dad isn't in there," Kenji thinks. "He's hardly ever there, even for his own, suicidal daughter."

So instead of choosing who to tell first, Kenji had decided to wait until both could be present, clearing his conscience.

The second reason was that he was uncomfortable and ashamed. Kenji knew what Lydia had accused him of wasn't true… But he was doubting his own memory. He questioned his own accord of the events and feared that he was victimizing himself. The boy feared the disappointed expression and exasperated sigh his father usually gave when he got into trouble. He dreaded that moment when his father would close his eyes and rest his forehead on his fist, pursing his lips in utter disappointment and frustration. It was what he always got when the teachers would inform his father of the mischief he had gotten into, or when one of the staff members tattled on the boy.

Kenji also faced the daunting idea of Mr. Gutierrez's disappointment. He had finally gotten on the man's good side and was beginning to see him like a true father. Should he stay on good terms with the family, perhaps he would become related to the man someday. But if this new development caused distrust… Kenji would never be allowed near Sammy again. He wouldn't be allowed near the younger girls. He could be treated like an outcast… like a criminal. What if his adopted status was revoked? What if the Gutierrez's shunned him because they didn't trust him? What if they had the right to distrust him? What if he hadn't changed? What if he was worse than he remembered? What if—

"Kenji?" Mr. Gutierrez breaks the boy's inner monologue.

"Huh?" he snaps his head to attention.

"Whatcha doin' there, boy?" the Texan chuckles. "You look like yer about to take flight."

Kenji realized he had been rocking back and forth, standing up on the balls of his feet then going back to normal. "Oh… I-I'm fine."

"Really?" Mrs. Gutierrez asks, picking up on his tone.

"Uhh…" he stutters, knowing it would come out one way or another. "No… not really… There's something I want to talk to you guys about."

"What's up, boy?" Mr. Gutierrez asks, leaning against the kitchen sink next to his wife.

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Kon asks.

"Mmm… remember how I said that… I got a girl pregnant before?" Kenji grimaces, knowing he couldn't back out of it now.

"Yeah?" Mr. Kon and Abuela said at the same time.

"Well…" he stutters. "She's… she's kinda accusing me of assaulting her."

Mr. Gutierrez pulls his head back in surprise. "Assault?"

"What type of accusations?" Mr. Kon asks, a little less shocked. Being in the public realm left him used to accusations and scandals.

"She said I threatened her physically and tried to make her keep the baby by force," Kenji murmurs.

Kenji could see Mr. Gutierrez's mustache twitch as he processed the information. Butterflies swarmed the boy's stomach as he tries to read the man's mind.

"And is anything she said true?" his father asks.

Kenji shakes his head quickly. "N-n-no… I, I don't think so… I don't remember threatening her. I-I don't think I did anything wrong… I mean, anything wrong you can arrest me for."

Mrs. Gutierrez holds out her hand for him to stop talking. "It's okay, we're not siding with her. We just want to know what happened."

"Would it hurt to walk through the events that led to this?" Abuela asks, sympathetically smiling at him from the barstools.

Kenji nods, sighing. For the first time, he truly allows himself to remember the event. It had been in his mind ever since he realized he loved Sammy, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on it too much. It made him feel guilty and ashamed, and he'd rather avoid those feelings if he could. The memory of the party comes back.

It was the end of March of 2015. The Andronica siblings were hosting a party while their parents were away on a business trip. They were one of the more wealthy families in the school with a large house and a nice pool in the backyard, so Erik, the oldest of the two siblings and a senior in highschool, decided it would be perfect for a party. The seventeen year old was tasked with pulling up the party activities and food and drinks, while his junior sister, Lydia, was tasked with inviting people. Pretty much anyone from their school who could go came. Along with some other students from other schools.

Of course, Kenji had nothing else to do, and it was a party, so he ended up there. Erik Andronica wasn't the gutsiest boy in the school, and hadn't rounded up any alcoholic beverages or drugs. The few that made it to the party were brought by random guests. Out of fear of anger from his parents, the boy gave the house guests a few rules: No destroying or stealing anything, keep things as tidy as they could, and no going into rooms when the door was locked. His parents' offices and private bedrooms were locked, corralling the party to the main floor, the basement, and the yard.

Kenji had been to wilder parties before, and that party was pretty tame compared to others. It was mostly sitting around playing board games, jamming to music, and occasionally daring a tipsy teenager to do something stupid. Wasn't the crazy party he had expected, but hey, he was out with other teenagers chilling.

About an hour in, Kenji noticed a shy girl from his school. She was in the same grade as him. Short and petite with curly black hair set in a short bob. Brown eyes and tan skin. Amanda, if he remembered correctly. She was raised in a conservative, Catholic home with a couple other siblings. She had a small group of friends who had mostly the same upbringing as her. The girl struck Kenji as particularly odd at the party. With her usual friend group, strict parents, and introverted personality, he wondered how she ended up at the party.

A bit bored by the tameness of the party, and curious why the girl had ended up there, Kenji occasionally watched her. She had sat in the corner of the room with a plate of pizza and a plastic red cup of Kool Aid. She would look around the room nervously, and the boy could tell she did not want to be there.

Ten minutes into his people watching, Kenji noticed Amanda rise from her seat, place her plate and drink on the stool, and head down the hallway to the bathroom alone. The boy didn't think too much about it until he noticed a rowdy group of boys glancing at her seat and gesturing to it. Kenji identified the main kid as Michael, a known class clown and regular jerk. His pranks were notoriously not funny and usually harmful. It made Kenji uneasy knowing that the kid was also high on something.

Kenji saw Michael pull out some form of liquid and watched him snicker the way he normally did when he was about to play a devious prank.

"Swipe her drink," a thought said decisively, clear as day.

Kenji got up from his spot on the couch and swiftly swipes her cup and plate. Knowing there was no way to safely keep her food from being tampered with—there was only a few chips and the pizza crust left, anyway—Kenji dumped the plate in the trash. Heading down the hallway, he heard Michael sputter in disappointment, pretty much confirming that his plan was to lace Amanda's drink or food. The troublemaker had some form of relationship with her—he knew her cousins, if Kenji remembered correctly—and regularly liked to mess with her in particular. With him being under the influence this time, he wasn't to be trusted.

Kenji leaned against the wall in front of the bathroom door, leaving room for others to pass by as he stood guard in front of the bathroom. He could hear Amanda talking to someone—most likely on the phone—as he carefully swished her drink around in the cup.

After a few minutes, Amanda came out of the bathroom. She jumped as she noticed Kenji standing in front of the door. "Um…" she said awkwardly.

"I believe this is yours?" Kenji quirked an eyebrow, holding up her drink and turning it to show her name in sharpie.

Hesitant, Amanda took it back.

"Piece of advice," Kenji said, wiping the right side of his upper lip with his thumb, sticking both of his hands in his pockets. "Don't leave your drink or food unattended. That's where you get in trouble. You never know who can mess with it."

"Oh," she said, her eyes darting between his and the floor.

"You might want to dump that and get a new cup," Kenji advised. "Don't trust anyone with your drink. And never go somewhere alone without someone you trust at a party like this. Wouldn't be too hard to corner a girl like you."

Kenji meant his advise in the nicest way possible, but the wording of last comment made him internally grimace.

Amanda nodded, very uncomfortable. "Um… well, thank you…"

The small girl headed back into the kitchen to dump her drink. Kenji watched her pace in front of the door, most likely having called someone to pick her up from the party.

As Kenji stood leaning against the wall next to the hallway, another girl approached him. Lydia Andronica. One of the hosts. Her and her brother couldn't be more night and day. While Erik was more of the nerdy variety: brainy, polite, and rule-following, Lydia was the complete opposite. Reckless, careless, and bold, she stood out in school. She was a skater girl with a goth e-girl style. Her outfit at the party was a black crop top with a pink, lacey, long sleeve top underneath, black shorts with fishnet stockings, and fingerless gloves. She had naturally black hair that hung to her mid back, but her bangs were bubblegum pink. The teen had dark and dramatic goth makeup, black nails and a lacey choker. The most interesting thing about her was her piercings. She had several ear piercings, a diamond nose stud and nose ring, an eyebrow piercing, two lower lip piercings on the sides of her mouth, and—when Kenji looked down at her exposed midriff—a diamond belly button piercing. She also had a black rose tattooed above her belly button piercing.

Her general aesthetic and revealing clothing was a turn on for the bored teenage boy. His attention turned from guarding Amanda to flirting with this newcomer. "Nice piercings," he comments.

She grinned, looking both seductive and dangerous. "I've got a couple more hidden away if you wanna find them," she said mischievously, sticking out her tongue to reveal a silver stud.

Egged on by her seductive comment, Kenji asks, "Is that tattoo real?" He made it obvious that the tattoo wasn't the only thing he was looking at.

"Did it myself," she said proudly, leaning back against a chair and pulling her shoulders back, enjoying the attention she was getting from him. "Bought some stick and poke stencils. My parents won't let me get a tattoo until I'm eighteen. Well," she chuckled mischievously. "I'll find a way around it."

"Did they approve of all your piercings?" Kenji asked, trying to figure out where the other hidden piercings were and letting his mind wander.

She snorted. "No, but I don't care," she shrugged, her crop top slipping down slightly as she did. "They gave up after the nose ring."

"Naughty girl," he smirked.

"Heh, and what have you done against your parents wishes, huh?" Lydia prompted. "Slept with a pretty girl when you should've been studying?"

"Ha, my father wishes I would study," Kenji chuckled. "If he ever gets mad at me sleeping around, I'll do one of his many girlfriends."

Lydia laughed at the deviousness of his comment. "Guess he can't be too mad. Got a girl here?"

"Nope," he shook his head.

"A girl at home?"

"Nope."

"So, you're up for grabs, no competition?" Lydia outright asked.

"Yep," he nodded, getting a bit excited by her words. "Don't think I can say the same for you, though."

"Oh, Victor?" Lydia frowned. "Pfft, my boyfriend wouldn't come. He said a party like this would be too troublesome. You know, liquor, alcohol, sex everywhere, police coming to shut it down. Of course, he also has to stUdY." She stuck her tongue out and gags. "So I'm free for the night."

Kenji knew Victor. He was an A student with a near perfect record and a teachers pet. He would most definitely tattle on you should he catch you doing something you weren't supposed to. While Victor clashed most with Michael—again, the boy caused a lot of trouble in the school—he didn't exactly get along with Kenji, either. Kenji wasn't a regular troublemaker, nor did he follow the rules all the time. So the two boys had a bit of conflict once in a while.

"Does your boyfriend know?" Kenji asked.

"Doesn't know about the other guys," Lydia said without shame. "He can be boring in bed."

"Surprised the bookworm has actually been in bed," Kenji retorted.

"That's probably the only place he ignores his parents," she snorted. "Adults say to stay faithful, but how big of a hypocrite are they? Come on, how many adults do you know cheat on their own spouses? All their rules are meant to suppress us and keep us from having fun. They tell us not to do everything they do. I call BS. I couldn't care less about their d*** rules. So if you wanna hit me up later, feel free to do so."

"Oh, don't tempt me," Kenji chuckled as she walked away.

"Don't do it. Don't do it," the voice of reason spoke in his head.

Kenji ignored it, pushing it to the back of his head. He was too bored and excited not to take her up on her offer. The rebellious teenage attitude plus the aesthetic had gotten his mind into dirty places. Plus, the idea of finding out where her other piercings were got him intrigued.

"One thing led to another and, well, you know…" Kenji mumbles, having given them a summed up version of his memory. "I wish I had listened to that voice in my head… I wouldn't be in this mess…"

"I'm curious where the other piercings were, too," Abuela mischievously comments before anyone else could speak.

"Mama!" Mrs. Gutierrez exclaims in disgust. The older woman merely shrugs shamelessly.

"So she clearly hit ya up and encouraged it," Mr. Gutierrez says.

Kenji nods. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure she initiated everything that night. That I'm most certain of. I didn't hit on her first."

"Any contraceptives?" Mr. Kon asks.

It took Kenji a second to remember what that word meant. "Yeah, I used it. I think she made a comment about protection being another stupid adult rule. I was the one prepared that night." Kenji looks down, finding it hard to meet their eyes. Particularly the Gutierrez's. Speaking of his past exploits in such a manner made him feel uncomfortable around the purity-centered house.

The adults nod. "What happened after that?" Kenji's father asks.

The boy exhales sharply. It was the end of May, one week before the end of school. "Oh, h*** yeah, I'm excited," Kenji said, shutting his locker door shut. "Summer vacation in a week? Gonna be awesome!"

"My family's going to DisneyLand in July," one of his friends announced.

"Is baby Lukas going to get a picture with Elsa?" Kenji teased.

"Hey, it's got Star Wars rides," Lukas argues. "Star Wars is awesome!"

"That's true, I can't argue with that," Kenji grinned and laughed.

"So what's your plans for summer?" Kofi asked, slapping Kenji's shoulder.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Kenji shrugged, pretending like his summer would be fun. "Pool parties, lake adventures, cool trips."

"Must be nice to be filthy rich," his friend, Daren, sputtered.

"Ha, sucks to be you guys!" Kenji grinned.

"F*** you," Kofi threw a balled up piece of paper at the boy.

Kenji snickered. "See you guys. Later, Cappuccino," he grinned, unable to resist one last dig at his friends.

"It's Kofi!" the boy protested, tired of his overused nickname.

Kenji shook his head and rolled his eyes as he walked out with the rest of the kids leaving the school. For the most part, he minded his own business on his phone, until he heard his name mentioned. His head perked up and he looked over at a group of girls huddled together as they walked. "I mean, timeline-wise, he makes the most sense," one of the girls said.

"Hey, Lydia is… a little all over the place in that way," another girl mentioned. "She could've slept with another boy around the same time."

This caught Kenji's attention.

"I just know it can't be Victor," a third girl, Callie, mentioned. "He's too cautious to get Lydia knocked up."

Kenji's heart stopped for a second. Curious and a little nervous, he hung back just a bit to hear them better.

"Come on, doesn't Kenji seem like the guy to get a girl pregnant?" the fourth girl asked.

"He hasn't gotten anyone pregnant," the first girl said.

"That we know of," Callie shrugged. "He's only been here for a year. I'm positive that it's him."

Kenji stopped walking and watched as they passed by. The girls didn't recognize him and kept walking. His mind was racing. "I need to find Lydia," he thought, confused and scared.

The boy hung back and pressed himself against the wall. His mind was racing with the recent information. He was panicking. A father? Him? At sixteen? No, it couldn't be… It couldn't be him. It wouldn't happen to him… It couldn't happen to him. Not that. He couldn't be a teen father. That was something that happened in the movies… something that happened to other people. Not him…

"It's not even confirmed, they're just guessing," Kenji thought, trying to calm his racing heart. "It might not even be you… Hey, she might not even be pregnant."

Looking to his right, Kenji saw Lydia and her best friend, Macie, trailing far behind the rush of kids. There were a couple other kids running past them, but for the most part, the two girls were alone.

"Lydia," Kenji said, approaching the two girls.

The girl visibly stiffened. Kenji noticed out of the corner of his eye that Macie had pulled out her phone. "W-wha…" he stuttered, trying to find his words.

"What?" she snapped.

"I…" he trailed off. "I heard your friends talking. You're-you're pregnant?"

"None of your business, a**hole," she muttered, trying to sidestep him.

Kenji backed up, still trying to figure out what was going on. "W-who did it? Was it me?"

"Why?!" Lydia snapped. "What does it matter to you?"

"B-be-c-cause I… I should know if I'm a father or not," Kenji stuttered.

Lydia took her palm, shoved it into the center of his chest, and pushed him back into a classroom door. The door was slightly ajar, and Kenji stumbled back into the empty classroom. Ignoring the concerned teacher outside who had noticed the commotion, Lydia followed him into the room. Macie followed her, as well. "What is your problem?!" Lydia asked.

Scared and confused, Kenji stumbled back. "I-I just want to know if I'm a father."

"Why would it matter to you, dibs***?!" Lydia snapped. "You're not involved! It doesn't affect you! Why do you care?!"

"W-What? How? How am I not affected?" Kenji asked in confusion.

"You're not involved at all!" she growled. "You don't have to carry a baby for nine months! You don't have to deal with morning sickness and cramps and other physical problems! You don't have to push a baby out of your p****! You don't have to raise a kid! You don't have to be involved at all!"

"I-I…" Kenji stuttered, unsure how to process all of it.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Lydia shouted.

"I-I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just trying to process all this!"

"You can't tell me what to do with my body!" she ranted, acting like she didn't hear him. "You're the one who knocked me up! This is all your fault!"

Kenji came out of his confusion for a second. "How is this all my fault?!" he protested, stepping forward.

Lydia quickly reacted and shoved him back into a chair. "F*** off, you b******," she hissed. "You have no say in this, you evil son of a b****."

The girl stormed out of the classroom with her best friend loyally in tow. "If my parents find out it happened again…" he could just hear her mutter.

Kenji sat there for a few moments trying to take in the recent turn of events. He headed home, locked himself in his room and paced. The boy agonized for hours over what had just happened. A father? How could it be?! He didn't want to be one of those boys! He couldn't be one of those boys! What was happening to him?!

He went to dinner after that, still digesting the information. As usual, he sat alone at the table, his father in a business meeting. Kenji wished he could go talk to him and get his advice on the situation.

He went back to his room and paced some more. Now having digested the information, Kenji was wondering what to do. "I'll probably be at another school next year," he said aloud. "Probably won't ever see her again… I don't have to be involved in any way… She certainly doesn't want me to be… I don't have to let this affect me at all. It's the end of the year and I'll probably be in another school come August. Nobody has to know it was me."

Kenji laid back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. "I wish I could talk to my Dad…"

His idea didn't sit right with him after that thought. How could he talk smack about his own father not being there when he himself was thinking of abandoning his own child?! Even if he was too young and immature to raise a kid, he'd be a lousy guy and a hypocrite if he abandoned ship!

The boy groaned, knowing he was in a predicament. On one hand, he didn't want to be involved at all. He didn't want to be a father and have that responsibility. On the other hand, he shouldn't leave Lydia and the child. It was selfish, cold-hearted, and hypocritical.

He searched up teen father stories, and began to get used to the idea of having a kid. "I've hung out with Jeanine's kids… They weren't too bad. I mean, the hardest part of being a teen father is supporting the child, right? Shouldn't be too bad for me… I could do this, right?"

With conflicting thoughts, Kenji finally decided to stick with his child. He was scared and unsure what to do, but he knew he couldn't leave. Not with the way he viewed his own father… He fell asleep that night imagining what it would be like to be a dad… "It can't be too bad, right?" he asked himself as he fell off to sleep.

The next day, he was a jumble of nerves. He tried to hide it, but Kenji was scared of talking to Lydia after that reaction. After class, he found her in the halls again. "What now?" she growled.

"W-what… what are you going to do with the kid?" Kenji asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

"You expect me to keep the thing?" she sputtered.

"I can help pay for everything if you need," he offered.

"You're not the only rich kid here," Lydia spat.

"I-I… I'll be there," he promised. "I'll help raise the kid. I-We could get married—"

"I'm not marrying you just because of a one-night stand!" she snapped. "I'm not keeping the d*** thing!"

Kenji couldn't let it end like that. He couldn't let his own child be adopted and thrown out like he or she wasn't wanted. Besides, all his imagining the night before might have made him a tiny bit excited to be a parent. "You don't have to be involved," he said. "I can take the baby and you won't have to have anything to do with us."

"Why are you so bent on this?!" she hissed.

"I… I want to be a parent," he lied partially.

"I don't believe you," she tsched.

Kenji hardened his features, unable to say the real reason he couldn't let it go. "I'm not going to be a lousy parent and ditch my kid just because I'm too afraid of raising it."

Offense and anger flashed on Lydia's features. Kenji couldn't understand why until her face went blank and she stated, "I got an abortion yesterday. You don't have a choice now. Just let it go."

Kenji stood there, uncomprehending as Lydia left. He felt relief, guilt, anger, and grief all at the same time. Relief that he wouldn't have to be a parent and wouldn't have to mature and raise a kid yet. Guilt that—even though he didn't have a say in this one—he still wouldn't be there for his child; in an essence, he was no better than his own father. Anger because Lydia had made this decision without talking to him, even though it would affect both of them, whether she liked it or not. Grief because he had started to imagine a child of his own… and part of him wanted it to become a reality, despite all his hesitance.

All he knew was that he would never again put himself in this situation again. "So much for being mature and grown up… Would've been better to bail and not be let down like this," he thought to himself as he sullenly climbed into his ride.

Kenji looks up at the adults. "I don't remember being violent towards her… I don't think I tried to force her to keep the kid. I begged, but I didn't force her…"

Guilt passed by his father's features, but his face became neutral again. "We can resolve this scandal quickly and quietly. Things like this aren't uncommon."

"No!" Kenji exclaimed, startling everyone, including himself. "N-no, no… Paying her to keep quiet just makes it seem like I am guilty… I just wish I hadn't done that… I wish I had listened to the voice in my head."

"Ya don't seem like the violent type," Mr. Gutierrez says, scratching his beard. "And from what you've said, sounds like she was the violent one."

"You might have enough witnesses to take her to court and prove your innocence," Mrs. Gutierrez points out.

"You guys believe me?" Kenji asks.

Abuela nods. "You haven't proven yourself untrustworthy. And you seem remorseful."

"Are her accusations official?" Mr. Kon asks. "Is she taking you to court?"

"I don't know," he shakes his head. "I don't think so, yet…"

His father nods. "We'll resolve this. Through court. If you're not guilty, you shouldn't have to worry."

Kenji nods, but he doesn't feel comforted by that statement.

"Do you want to head out now?" his father asks.

"I think I want to sit down for a little bit," he says, sitting down at the table.

The adults head out to inspect the fencing problem talked about earlier, and leave Kenji to his thoughts. That whole conversation went better than he expected. It was a relief to have his parents know… Now all he had to tell was Sammy, Brooklynn, and Darius, and his whole circle of loved ones would be in on the situation. He was dreading telling Sammy, though…

"Did you ever see her again?" a voice startles him.

Kenji jolts forward in his seat, scanning the kitchen. "Huh?"

A hand appears behind the table, waving to him. Kenji leans over and sees Sammy sitting on the floor next to her wheelchair, brushing one of their Aussie shepherds. "Have you been there the whole time?" Kenji asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," she nods.

He sighs and covers his face with his hand, still startled by her previously unknown presence.

Sammy's expression changes slightly to something unreadable. "Were you not going to tell me?"

Kenji removes his hand and looks at her. It wasn't that he didn't want her to know, more that he was ashamed. The boy never really felt ashamed of his promiscuous love life… not until he met Sammy and her family. When he looked at her, he saw an angel. A beautiful, perfect young woman with a heart of gold. It felt wrong to him sometimes to believe they were together. The young, pure soul with the devilish playboy… No wonder Mr. Gutierrez was concerned for his daughter.

"I was going to tell you," he sighs. "You startled me."

"Oh…" she murmurs, gently petting her dog. "So that's what Ben meant…"

"Hmm?" Kenji frowns, coming to sit down next to her on the floor.

"Does anyone else know?" Sammy asks.

"Yaz and Ben…" he admits.

Sammy knew that she shouldn't feel jealous about him telling someone else first. After all, he told her about the pregnancy before anyone else back on the island… Still… part of her wondered if he didn't trust her enough to share this recent development. Was it situational? Were Ben and Yasmina there at the time when he needed to vent? Or was there something wrong with her… Did he not trust her? Maybe he didn't think she'd be supportive enough! Was her attitude affecting how he saw her? "Do you trust me?" she asks in worry.

Kenji's face contorts in confusion. "Of course I do."

Sammy nods, biting her lip.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks.

Sammy knew it was irrational and jealous of her to feel the way she did, but it was hard to squash those feelings. "Why'd you tell our parents before me?"

"I… I needed adult advice on how to move forward and what to do," he says. "Plus… I was scared this would affect how your family saw me."

A pang of guilt shoots through Sammy. "He's more worried about our relationship… I'm being silly…"

"And you've seemed a little stressed lately, so I didn't want to leave you with the burden of being the first to know," he adds.

Sammy tilts her head, irked. "I'm not stressed at all."

Kenji's face contorts in annoyance and his shoulders slump. "Reeeeally?"

"Yes," Sammy insists, tilting her head up. "I'm not stressed."

He sighs through his nose. "I don't believe you."

Sammy frowns. "What? What makes you think I'm stressed?"

He gestures to her. "Everything," he says, lifting his eyebrows. "Your attitude, your behavior. You're just acting very stressed and pretending like you're not. Insisting that you're completely fine."

"Maybe you're just reading in too deeply," she suggests through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, that right there says otherwise," he shrugs.

"I'm fine," Sammy stubbornly insists. "Yer overreacting."

"You're lying!" Kenji snaps.

"Why does it bother you if I act like I'm happy?!" she snaps back, angry. "I thought you liked my positivity! I thought it carried us through the island!"

Kenji puts one hand on his hip and the corners of his lips curl downwards. He hadn't seen Sammy get really angry before. It was sort of impressive. And in this case, possibly a good thing. Maybe he could get more out of her than the fake happiness he normally got. "Because I can see that you're not fine and I don't want you to feel alone."

Sammy drops her head back and smiles in frustration. "I'm okay. And even if I wasn't, did you ever think that maybe I just don't want to talk about it?"

"Would you let Yaz go if she didn't want to talk about her problems?" he counters.

"Would you want to deal with her steel iron will?" she retorts.

He rolls his eyes. "Fair point. How about Brooklynn? Would you leave her alone because she didn't want to talk?"

"No, because I don't trust her not to kill herself right now," Sammy says.

"Maybe I don't trust you to get better?" Kenji suggests, shrugging his shoulders. "I've already seen Brooklynn and Yasmina fall into depression. I don't want to see you slip so deep in sadness and pain that you develop it, too."

Sammy's tense position relaxes a bit. "I'm not depressed, honestly, Kenji," she says softly. "I'm… I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

"You sure you're not the one who doesn't trust me?" he asks.

"Kenj, I'm fine," she insists, getting miffed again.

"No, I don't think you are," he sighs, rubbing the side of his head.

"Why can't you just let it go?!" she snaps. "Maybe I feel like Yaz! Maybe I just wanna deal with it internally and don't want to talk about it at the moment!"

"That would be fine, but the way you're acting, you're denying the problem!" he throws his hands out, almost smacking the chair. "You're insisting that you're all good and pretending like there's nothing wrong!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Everything! Pretending a problem isn't there doesn't solve it!"

"Are you an expert on that?!"

"Possibly!"

"Oh, 'cause pretendin' yer not a father and pretendin' I'm happy are real similar!" Sammy snaps, then immediately slaps her hand over her mouth. "I…"

Before he could think through his reply, Kenji coldly retorts, "I guess I'm not a good enough friend if you can't trust me enough to feel sad in front of me."

He could see the pain in her eyes. "No, that's not it…" she murmurs softly. "... I've told you… I'm supposed to give thanks and be happy in all circumstances… This isn't about our friendship, it's Biblical…"

"More like a cult," he mutters. "If you're supposed to be happy in all circumstances, aren't you disobeying since you're not actually happy?"

Sammy tenses up and glares at him. "I wouldn't expect you to understand," she snarls coldly.

"Me, neither," he retorts. "I can't understand why a God who's supposed to be loving would make you be happy all the time!"

"Oh, you tellin' me you wouldn't want to be happy all the time?!" she tschs.

"In a perfect world, yes!" he snaps. "But we're not in a perfect world, and we have many different feelings! Acting like you're happy all the time and not addressing the other feelings is harmful to your mental and emotional health! Would a loving God commanding you to do something that'll harm you!"

"Maybe it's not harmful and you're carnally minded!" she snaps.

"What does that mean?!" Kenji sputters.

"It means you're thinkin' worldly!" Sammy aggressively brushes her hair out of her face.

"What? Am I supposed to think Godly?" he tschs.

She sighs loudly with frustration. "I guess this is why Christians are supposed to marry Christians."

The two immediately meet eyes in shock. After a few seconds of being frozen, Kenji shakes his head and storms out of the kitchen, knowing they weren't getting anywhere good with the conversation. Her last words echo in his head, haunting him with the threat of unworthiness.

Tears slip out of Sammy's eyes as she replays the last bit of their conversation. "I did not just say that…" she thinks. "Please, God, I did not just say that…"

"Don't leave me, Kenji…"

---

"Happy birthday!" Brooklynn beams at Brandon as he and her older brother come downstairs.

"You smell like a monkey," Darius grins next to her.

"Thanks," Brandon sputters, semi-gently smacking his brother on the back of the head.

"Darius, come on," his mother scolds.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, a face like yours belongs in a zoo," Darius smirks, making Milton laugh. "Don't worry, I'll be there, too. Not in the cage, but laughing at you."

"Wow, real original, Darius," Brandon says sarcastically, pounding his fist on his chest. "I feel the love, man."

"One year closer to death day," Milton wiggles his eyebrows.

"At least I'm older than you," he sticks his tongue out.

"Hehe, I can call you old until October," Milton sniggers.

"Oh, come on, guys, be nice," Mrs. Bowman sighs.

"Well, I think you're becoming a very mature and responsible seventeen year old," Brooklynn grins.

"Thank you, Young B," Brandon says, giving her a hug from behind.

"Ew, stop sucking up to my brother," Darius scrunches up his features, then laughs.

"So, what do you want to do before your party tonight?" Mrs. Bowman asks.

Brandon twists his mouth this way and that way, thinking. "I need a haircut," he states, more thinking out loud than anything.

His friends laugh. "I've been thinking about it for a couple days," Brandon shrugs.

"We could do that," his mother nods sleepily. She had been working on a court case late into the night. "What would you want to get?"

"I think I wanna get a shorter fade," he muses. "Maybe a textured high top. I do wanna try a different color. Red, maybe."

Darius' mouth twitches, trying to decide if he should say what he was thinking. "So you're going for the beef patty look?"

Brandon tosses his fork down. "Well, aren't we sardonic today?"

Darius sniggers. "That meme is burned into my memory."

"Maybe something like this?" Brooklynn shows him a picture on her phone.

"Yeah," Brandon nods.

"I like that color, it's like a carmine red," she says.

"What?" Darius yawns.

"It's like a red, brown, pink color," she explains. "It's not a bright red, but not a deep rich color, either. It's kinda brownish and pinkish, too."

Darius blinks slowly, then shrugs. "It's red to me."

"You need a haircut, too, Darius," his mother remarks.

"Yeah, your fade is fading," Brandon smirks.

"Would you want to change it up?" Brooklynn asks.

"Nah, I'm good with the style I have," Darius shrugs.

"Speaking of, I could use one, too," Milton says, running his hands through his floofy hair. "Get it trimmed up and maybe bleached again. Although, I'm not sure if I like my brown roots with the blonde or not."

"You match Brook," Mrs. Bowman comments.

"No, he's got—did you just blow on your hot pancakes and your frozen blueberries?" Brooklynn asks, stopping mid sentence and laughing.

Darius stares into the distance with a disappointed smile, then sighs. "Yes, brain. Food is temperature and I must blow on all of it."

"Anyway, Milton has blonde hair," Brooklynn continues. "I have bleach white. Not a flattering color."

"You wanna come with us?" Brandon asks.

Mrs. Bowman starts to say something, but Brooklynn quickly interrupts. "I can pay for it myself. I pay for most of my hairdos."

She sighs. "Well, if it's alright with your parents."

"They won't care," Brooklynn says as Mrs. Bowman calls her mother. "They didn't care about the other colors I pulled off."

"What would you do?" Brandon asks.

"Just get my edges trimmed, roots bleached and hair colored," she shrugs.

"What color?" Darius asks.

Brooklynn grins mischievously at him. "Not telling," she says smuggly.

"Why not?" Darius asks, confused.

"I'll let it be a surprise," she shrugs.

Darius blinks at her. "Okay," he shrugs, not left in suspense.

Brooklynn deflates. "You're not curious?"

"I'll see it when you come out from the salon," he shrugs.

"Pfff, that's not how you deal with girls," Milton snidely remarks.

"At least I'm not fake," Darius retorts, balling up his napkin and throwing it at him.

"Enough, finish your breakfast and let's go," Mrs. Bowman interrupts before the two could bicker.

On the car ride there, Brooklynn and Brandon discuss her possibilities. "Most of my crazy hair colors were meant for my videos," she says. "Now I kinda just need to get it done and stop looking like a train wreck."

"You look good for a train wreck," Darius mumbles.

Brooklynn blushes shyly.

"A train wreck for you is mildly crazy bed hair and no makeup, stop complaining," Milton mutters.

"I can't decide if that's a compliment or not…" she mumbles to herself.

"Don't worry, Brook, you look great," Mrs. Bowman says from the driver's seat.

"Thank you," she smiles. "I kinda need to get back on my feet. Like overcoming depression and stuff."

"So coloring your hair will get you over depression?" Milton asks.

Brooklynn snorts. "Wouldn't that be nice? Coloring your hair cures depression! No, I use my hair color to represent changes in myself or my videos. Maybe if I change it up, I can trick myself into thinking I'm better."

"Like how Black Widow changes her hair with her identity?" Darius pipes up.

"Yeah, exactly," she nods, continuing the conversation with Brandon.

Darius is reminded of his dream. "Do you really want to change or is this a show?" he ponders. "Are you trying to get better for our benefit so that we can stop worrying about you? Or is this change resulting from you wanting to get better for yourself?"

"My Mom is literally a fashion designer," Brooklynn interrupts his thoughts. "She could help me make other eyepatches. I mean, I'm thankful for the pirate and Nick Fury cosplay ones, but I'd like something a little more dazzling. Most of the ones I've found are just boring and ugly. I need sparkles! Bedazzlement! Something, at least, to cover this hideous scar."

"What kind of aesthetic are you going for?" Brandon asks. "Pastel, cutesy look? Pop star look? Elegant natural look?"

"Like a ballerina," Darius suggests before he could think in regards to the last option.

"Eugh, no," Brooklynn gags. "I mean, I liked ballet when I did it, but I'm too busy now. And it was toxic."

"Wait, how was it toxic?" Darius asks in concern.

Brooklynn opens her mouth to say something, but Brandon interrupts. "Ballet is hard on the body image. It's not uncommon to find anorexia in ballerinas."

"Yeah, and I just don't need that pressure to look a certain way," she says quickly.

"I hope that attitude follows you into your Internet persona," Darius thinks as they arrive at the place.

Mrs. Bowman puts her son's names in while Brooklynn and Milton take care of their own appointments. Milton jokingly tries to get Brooklynn to agree to pay for his cut, but she refuses. "You got the money, pay for it yourself!" she insists, annoyed.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," he grins.

"You wouldn't be if I agreed," she rolls her eyes.

The boys go through first. Brandons took the longest, and he finished just a few minutes before Brooklynn. "Well, does this look like a beef patty?" he asks, pointing aggressively at his hair.

"Yeah, but it still looks good," Darius laughs.

Per request, the boys headed out to the car and waited for Brooklynn to come out. She really wanted to show off her new look. Milton thought she was being over dramatic, Brandon thought she should enjoy showing it off, and Darius was too absorbed in his own thoughts to care to bicker. "I hope she truly wants to do this and doesn't feel like she needs to to impress others," he worries.

Brooklynn comes out of the salon with a hair flip that seemed strangely slow. Darius had to do a double take. He had only seen her with her cotton candy pink hair and bleached, roots-growing-out hair. Now, she was sporting a rich shade of hot pink hair, with the tips dyed black and fading up into the pink.

"Well?" she asks, posing.

Darius feels someone elbowing him in the ribs over and over again. He turns and glares at Brandon, who's giving him a stupid grin. "It looks great, B!" Brandon announces with a laugh.

Milton glances at his friend and rolls his eyes with a smile. "Yeah, it's pretty cool. I guess…"

Brooklynn giggles at the reactions she was getting. Even her brother's was good. It was quite the struggle to get him to admit that she even looked decent. "What do you think, Darius?" she asks.

Darius couldn't figure out an answer. There were too many in his head. "... It's going to take some getting used to."

Milton and Brandon doubled over laughing, and even Mrs. Bowman was holding back laughter.

Brooklynn's face falls slightly. "In a bad way?"

"N-no!" Darius says quickly. "It's just a big change. A good change! You look great. You look… like island you."

Brooklynn snorts. "How do I look like island me?"

"Well, pink really suits you, but the darker color gives off a… more of a… uh… um…" he stutters, trying to think of the word he was looking for. He snaps his fingers, trying to remember it.

Brandon and Milton start throwing out words for him. "Anime-like?" Milton suggests.

"Mature?" Brandon says.

"Main character-ish?" Milton squints.

"Powerful?" Brandon scratches his chin.

"Bada**!" Milton snaps.

"Thank you!" Darius exclaims. "Except without the language."

"You think I look like a baddie?" Brooklynn blushes.

"You just look… tougher," he frowns, trying to figure out what he was saying. "The lighter pink hair gave off an innocent, child-like vibe, while this color kinda reads like a pop star who's killing it on stage. Or the cool main character who hunts dinos."

Brooklynn beams at him, overjoyed by what he was saying. As they get back into the car, Brooklynn takes out her phone and takes a couple selfies. "First time I've updated my social media platforms since… well, you know," she murmurs.

"The island or Leah?" Darius asks.

She chuckles. "Fair enough, there's a lot of 'you knows.'"

"She hasn't felt the need to update her social media platforms in a while…" he thinks. "It's because she's been depressed and hates herself… but not trying to impress her followers might not be a bad thing…"

"What?" she breaks his thoughts again. "Is something wrong?"

He contemplates his words for a moment. "You don't have to impress your followers on social media."

"I'm not," she insists. "I just wanna show off my new look, that's all."

Darius wanted to argue back. He wanted to drive the idea through to her that she was perfect and didn't need the Internet's approval. That she was beautiful, kind, and strong, and there was no reason for her to believe the opinions of random people on the web. That there was no reason for her to feel guilty or feel the need to change herself in any way.

Instead, he relents. He hadn't seen Brooklynn smile in a while. A true smile. One that reached her ears and made her face glow. Her green eyes sparkled and she looked so much better than she had the past couple of months. "Well, it looks really cool," he smiles at her.

She smiles back, and turns her attention to her phone.

Darius drops the subject, but that didn't mean he thought she was okay. He didn't believe her… The boy was worried that Brooklynn would fall back into the trench she was in before. The one the island helped pull her out of somewhat. The abyss of trying to impress the critical Internet. With his recent vision and his interpretation of it fresh in his mind, he chews on his lip. "I can't let her go down that road again… I can't allow her to go back to that toxic arena. It's not her being on the Internet that's the problem, it's her identity. If she could be fine with who she is and not put her identity in her image on the Internet, it would be totally okay! I'd be encouraging of her channel if she could be unaffected by the opinions of the people. But that's not the case right now. She's not strong enough to withstand their harsh criticism. She can't even stop blaming herself and thinking she is a bad person… Her confidence and mental state will collapse like a house of cards as soon as someone hates on her. She can't put herself out there.

"I can't let her."

---

"Do you want to do something today before Brandons birthday party?" Mrs. Pincus asks, sipping her cup of coffee.

Ben sighs shakily. His anxiety from the night before had carried over into the day, and he felt jittery. "No, I'm feeling off today," he sighs.

"Off how?" his mother asks.

"Just PTSD and anxiety off," he murmurs. "And a bit jittery."

"Okay, do you want one of your friends to come over or for me or your Dad to stay with you?"

"No… Kinda just want to be alone. Lay down in my room and take it easy."

"Okay, remember to drink water and eat to keep your blood sugar levels steady," his mother reminds him.

Ben nods, finishes his breakfast, and heads to his room with Flopsy. He sits down on his bed and stares at the wall as Flopsy twirls in circles, then lays down on the floor next to the bed. He feels his hands begin to tremble and become clammy. The boy starts to feel a bit disembodied. He was there, but at the same time, he wasn't. It wasn't zoning out. It felt like he was a ghost in his own body. Sounds were muffled and muted. His body felt numb.

Ben's thoughts brew like a storm. A storm he hadn't had in a while. They weren't clear cut thoughts, nor were they defined feelings. They were more of a mix, more like feelings speaking to him. Instincts. Urges to run. Urges to leave the confined space and search for something.

Ben starts to come back to reality, and the panicky, anxious feeling sets in. His heart races, his breath quickens, his senses sharpen. He felt the need to seek shelter, to run and find protection. He felt exposed and vulnerable, like a predator could easily pick him off if he wasn't close to Bumpy.

"Bumpy."

A pang of sadness shoots through his nerves and tears spring up. Stumbling off his bed, Ben absentmindedly ends up on the floor in the corner of his room. As Flopsy lifts her head, the boy's eyes dart back and forth fearfully. "I'm home. I'm home… Why am I in a building? Why aren't I in the jungles?! Where is the exit?! Where's Bumpy?! BUMPY!"

A bark startles him out of his flashback. He jumps and looks up. Flopsy was barking and pacing in front of him. When she noticed that he was paying attention to her, she began to lick his face. Ben wraps his arms around her and pulls the dog into his lap, trying to focus more on her and less on his dino companion. Flopsy continued to bark, doing an effective job at distracting Ben from his panic and flashbacks. Her barking also served as a way to alert Mrs. Pincus.

The door opens and she sticks her head in. "Is everything okay?"

The only response Ben can come up with was a sob. It was a mix of anxiety, fear, grief, and frustration towards himself for feeling this way.

His mother immediately came to his side. "It's okay," she says softly, wrapping her arms around him motherly. "You're safe at home."

Ben cries in her arms for a few moments before speaking. "I want Bumpy… I miss her…"

"I know," his mother whispers.

Guilt rises up again. "It's not fair to Flopsy," he sobs. "It's not fair to you and Dad. It's not fair to God. It's not fair to the others…"

"How is it not fair?" his mother asks.

"... Because I feel like I can't live without her," he sniffs. "And she was provided by God… The others were my friends on the island… but all I can think about is Bumpy…"

"Shhh, it's okay," she whispers. "You're not in trouble. It's not your fault what happened."

"I was strong in faith on the island, why aren't I when I'm safe?" Ben cries, leaning into her embrace. "I can't stop thinking about Bumpy… I miss her… I don't feel safe without her… I'm not safe…"

"Ben, breathe," Mrs. Pincus instructs as he starts to hyperventilate. She takes his hand and tries to coach him through the breathing exercises like they used to do. As Ben focuses on his shaky breathing, his mother multitasks and texts one of the parents to send a camper over to comfort him.

The boy pants as his separation anxiety keeps a strong hold on him. He needed his dino companion… he needed the campers… he couldn't live without them!

Ben isn't sure how much time passed. It felt like seconds after his mother texted the request before the door opened again and Yasmina stuck her head in. "What's going on?" she asked in worry, dropping her crutches and crawling over to him on her knees.

Ben tries to speak, but his throat feels tight. Wordlessly, Yasmina moved in and hugged him tightly, yet gently. Her firm embrace was comforting, and the boy felt his throat loosen. He grips the back of her shirt and sobs onto her shoulder. "I miss her… I miss Bumpy… I couldn't have made it on the island without her… How can I make it without her?! I'm so weak and scared! I can't make it! The predators! They'll get me! I'm too vulnerable! I'm too weak…"

Yasmina doesn't say a word. She simply holds him, rubbing his back soothingly as he rambles on. Mrs. Pincus leaves the room to search for something.

"I feel so weak without her…" Ben cries, his words muffled in her jacket. "I was just a scared nerd trying to survive out there… Without her, I would've been eaten… I-I-I can't, Yaz I can't live on the island without her! I-I can't live without Bumpy…"

"We're not on the island anymore, Ben," she murmurs.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" he sniffs. "Why do I act confident? I'm scared and flighty without her… I can't… I can't… Why?! I… I'm terrified of the island but I want to go back! I want Bumpy! I don't want to deal with society… Dinosaurs were easier in a way… Why is it so hard to feel safe?! Why do I feel scared and anxious no matter where I am?! Why can't I just stand in faith and peace… Pff, ack!"

Ben pulls back and spits. Flopsy had licked his face and gotten slobber inside his mouth. Yasmina purses her lips and snickers, until the puppy jumps up on her back and starts licking the athlete's ear.

Ben wipes his mouth and eyes and chuckles with her. As he holds out his hand—it was trembling uncontrollably—Yasmina scootches closer and wraps her right arm around his shoulder. She takes his trembling hand in hers. She gently closes it. "Breathe in," she says.

He does as he's ordered.

Yasmina softly opens his fist. "Breathe out."

Ben tries to focus on syncing up his breathing and his hand, but his thoughts continue to interrupt. "I shouldn't be so dependent on Bumpy… You guys helped me survive just as much as she did… Why am I so dependent on her…"

"You can't explain the things trauma does to your mind," Yasmina murmurs, forcing him gently to continue the exercise.

After a couple more shaky breaths, Ben goes on with his rant. "It's disrespectful to God… How much did he carry me through? Carry us through? Bumpy was provision… given to me for protection and companionship… and now she's what my life seems to center around… I just feel like such a failure… a failure of a Christian… I was standing in strong faith on the island… Even a couple days ago I was stronger… How can I feel the Lord's peace on the island, but here where I'm safe, I'm panicking?"

Ben looks at Yasmina, who shrugs unhelpfully. "You know what I'd say," she says.

He rolls his eyes with a small smirk. "I guess… I just hate going from strong to weak… Since we got back… Really, since Mantah Corp left us on the island, I've stayed fairly strong… You guys seemed to rely on it… and now my mental and emotional strength seems to have crumbled and collapsed…"

Yasmina smiles. "I know that feeling."

Ben chuckles. "What would you say from your experience?"

She sighs. "As much as I don't like to admit it, you can't be strong all the time. There's no shame in asking for help—although it feels like it. You've been emotionally strong for me for over a month now. I think you can take a break and lean on me for a while. You deserve a break from being the warrior."

Ben sighs shakily. "I know… I know I'm not always going to be strong… far from it… What I don't like is that I seem to be wavering in faith. I've stood in the face of dinosaurs and stood strong because I believed God would carry us through. But here I am, sitting on the floor of my room, completely safe, and I can't even believe for peace. It just feels like I've stepped back in faith… and I'm not even in mortal danger…"

Yasmina rolls her eyes slightly and gets up. Ben worries that she's mad at all his talk about God. Instead, the athlete climbs onto the bed, grabs something from his nightstand as well as the folded blanket at the end of his bed, and climbs back down. Hobbling on her right leg, she tosses him the first item. Ben examines it. His Bible.

"If you're in such doubt, why don't you read your sacred book," she rolls her eyes.

Ben half laughs, half sputters. "Typical Yaz-style comforting," he thinks as she comes back to sitting next to him. She unfolds the blanket and wraps it around the two of them. Flopsy clambers over Yasmina's lap and forces herself in between the two where she lays her head on Ben's crossed legs.

Ben chuckles as he opens the Bible. He finds the verses about anxiety and peace by memory as Yasmina rests her head on his shoulder.

The boy is already feeling more calm when his mother comes back. "Finally found the oil," she says, sitting down in front of them. "Took a while to search through the boxes."
"What were you looking for?" Ben asks.

"Lavender oil," she says.

"Aromatherapy?" Yasmina asks.

Ben nods, taking the rolling stick of oil. "It's great on pulse points," he says. "Very relaxing."

"I read to massage it in between your eyebrows," the athlete says shyly.

"Haven't tried that yet, but it could work," the boy shrugs. He rubs a bit of oil between his eyebrows, then rubs some on his neck.

Yasmina hesitantly stretches out her hand, then retracts it, then stretches it out and again retracts it. After a slightly awkward, non-verbal exchange, Ben moves her hand to his head. Timidly, she massages the spot on his head as he rubs the oil on a pulse point on his upper chest. The movement felt oddly relaxing, and Ben feels his eyelids drooping as he rubs the inside of his elbow.

Yasmina snickers. "You remind me of our dog when we massage her ears."

Ben laughs. "I can see why she likes it."

Yasmina and Mrs. Pincus laugh.

Ben finishes rubbing the oil on his pulse points, and shifts his position to comfortably lean his head on Yasmina's. "Are you feeling better?" his mother asks.

Ben nods. "I think my anxiety attack has finally passed. I just feel tired and drained now."

"You want to just hang out in here until the party?" she asks.

"Yeah," he smiles, softly petting Flopsy's head. "Thank you for coming over," he says as his mother leaves.

"You're welcome," Yasmina murmurs. "Feel free to call me over if you need. I owe you a lot for supporting me through my stupid depression phase."

"Phase?" he asks.

She sputters. "Obviously. I'm not accepting depression as my life. It's a phase. A dark phase, and I'm over it. I don't care what other people think depression is. I don't care what my feelings are at the time. That's what it is to me, and I'm not going to kneel down to it."

Ben chuckles. "With that mindset, you'll go far. You already have… So how was your day besides my anxiety fiasco?"

She grunts. "Pretty good. On my way here I saw a weird lady with a muppet on her shoulder, but other than that, it was pretty uneventful."

He snorts. "Hold on, circle back to that. You saw what?"

Yasmina rolls her eyes. "This lady was walking down the sidewalk with a muppet thingy on her shoulder. You know Jabba the Hutt's pet from Star Wars, right? The creepy monkey thing? That's kinda what it looked like. It was freaky. Had its arms wrapped around her neck and looked like an animatronic."

"Star Wars cosplayer?" Ben suggests.

"Probably," she shrugs. "Besides that… Oh! I haven't told you about my extended family visit."

Ben grins. "That's right, you have to tell me how it went."

The two discuss Yasmina's visit with her family until it's time to go. Ben helps her stand up and cracks his back. After his anxiety passed, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He felt free from his struggles for the moment. "Perhaps it's good sometimes to let your cards fall," he thinks. "Maybe it allows you to build up stronger walls and fortresses within your mind."

"It's hard to let it all fall down, though," Yasmina comments.

Ben is taken aback. "You were thinking out loud," she explains.

"Oh, for a second, I thought you were a mind reader," he mumbles, much to her amusement.

---

"Pass it to me! Pass it to me!" Ghaleb shouts, waving his arms.

Darius attempts to throw the ball to him, but Milton blocks him. The boy hobbles around, trying to move past the bigger kid, but resolves to throw the basketball. Ghaleb tries to catch it, but Brandon intercedes. "Hey!" Ghaleb protests, racing after him.

Darius limps after him as fast as he can go, but Kenji blocks him. "Dude!" Darius laughs.

Brandon runs to the other side of the concrete, avoids Justin, jumps up and swoops the ball through the hoop.

"Ohhhhhhh!" Kenji pumps his fist in the air. "Slam dunk!"

"Let's goo, Brandon!" Milton exclaims, high fiving his friend.

"No fair!" Darius protests. "I'm short and handicapped!"

"Excuses, excuses, sore loser," Kenji cackles, slinging Darius over his right shoulder.

"Go easy on your brother, he's just gotten out of a cast," Justin chuckles.

"Not after he trash talked my abilities," Brandon immaturely sticks his tongue out at his brother.

The back door of the building they were playing behind opens. "Food's ready if y'all want it," Mr. Gianfortoni says, chuckling as he looks at the scene he walked out to.

"Yess," Kenji says, putting Darius back down on the ground. The boys run around the corner of the building to the side of the parking lot. Brandon had decided to have a tailgate party in the parking lot of the Gianfortoni's pizza restaurant. It was a particularly slow Saturday for the restaurant, so they decided to give them business. They had parked off to the side and set up small tables to make more room for the twenty people that had assembled there. The adults were talking while corralling the kids and dogs. The Fadoula's had to bring Roxie with them, and Flopsy naturally followed Ben. The two canines were wrestling and playing as their owners were trying to untangle the leashes.

Ben and Jabari joined the group of boys around the appetizers that had recently been brought out. "Y'all only take a few," Mrs. Gutierrez warns. "Leave some of them wings for the rest of us."

"Or not," one of the workers, Joey, shrugs with a laugh. "You can always buy more."

"Yeah, we've given you enough business already," she laughs.

"And Logan enough dishes," Leilani comments as the two head back inside.

"That's why we brought our own paper plates and utensils," Mrs. Bowman says, setting out the plates and plastic forks and knives on one of the restaurant's outdoor tables.

It was shaping up to be a fun hoedown. The older boys along with Darius and Jabari had challenged each other to see who could withstand the most of the fiery hot wing sauce given. After their wings intake was restricted, they moved on to dipping fries and even mozzarella sticks in the sauce. "Y'all are disgusting," Miriam gags, dipping her bread stick in marinara sauce like a normal human being.

The younger girls played with the dogs in the middle of the area. Ben, still emotionally drained from his anxiety attack, had sat himself next to the introverted Yasmina in the back of a car. Rio, being timid herself, sat with them, and the three had a quiet conversation. It seemed to be easier for Yasmina to cope with her sound sensitivity with only two people to listen to, as well. Brooklynn, Sammy, Miriam and Holly were off to the side. Brooklynn was trying to teach them either Tiktok or Kpop dances. "Honestly, it kinda overlaps," she laughs when asked which one she was doing.

Things would be peachy if it weren't for the slight tension between Kenji and Sammy, who hadn't resolved their argument from the day before. The teens were keeping their distance from each other, awkwardly glancing at each other. Neither was sure how to approach the other after their fight. So they avoided each other.

Round eight, Dave and Roxie got a small break to join the party. Dave notices Kenji's crestfallen expression. "What's wrong there, kiddo?" he asks, drumming on the table with his hands and sitting down next to the camper.

Kenji sputters. "Sammy and I had a fight yesterday."

"Oof," Dave grimaces. "Well, every couple has their arguments."

"Yeah…" the boy mutters. "I just hope it doesn't affect our relationship…"

"What was it about?" Dave asks. "It'd have to be pretty serious to break you two apart after all you went through."

"Religion," Kenji says.

"Yeesh, that'll cause trouble," Dave agrees.

"She's Christian and I'm… eh, I don't know," Kenji shrugs. "Atheist, I guess. I never really cared enough about the universe's origins to pick a religion."

"Yeah, that's one issue between couples," Dave nods.

"Are you actually going to give advice or just keep agreeing with me that it's bad?" Kenji raises an eyebrow.

Dave leans back and folds his hands behind his head. "I'm the live-and-let-live type of guy. You do you and I'm chill with that. You can't dictate what someone else believes and that's okay."

"I don't have a problem with her believing in God," Kenji shrugs. "She can believe that if she wants to. That wasn't the problem…"

"Oh… was Sammy the one causing issues?" Dave asks, a little shocked.

"No, neither of us were trying to start trouble," he shakes his head. "It's more that we disagree on the best way to deal with an issue, and our beliefs clash… I don't know if she's using her religion as an excuse, or if she's truly following her religion. Either way, her recent behavior seems a little toxic for herself."

"Hate to butt into a conversation I'm not a part of, but what's wrong with Sammy's behavior?" Roxie asks, sitting down on the other side of Kenji.

"Recently, she's just seemed… unhappy," the boy sighs. "But she won't admit anything's wrong. She keeps insisting that she's all sunshine and rainbows and pretending like there's nothing wrong."

"Sometimes people don't know how to express their problems or don't want to talk about them," Roxie reminds him.

"Yeah, and I get that," he nods. "But I don't think that's the case. She seems to be trying to pretend it doesn't exist. Which isn't healthy, right?"

"No, acting like the problem doesn't exist only prolongs the fixing of it," she says.

"Okay," Kenji sighs. "So I'm not telling her something that's wrong and bad."

"Did you think you were?" Dave asks.

"No… Well, after her reaction, I worried that I was in the wrong," Kenji scratches his head. "She used a verse to justify her actions."

"Maybe she misunderstands the verse's meaning," Roxie suggests. "Sometimes Christians don't read their Bibles enough, or they don't understand the context of the verses and the meaning gets construed. And sometimes even preachers twist the meanings and lead people astray. My younger brother is notorious for unintentionally doing that."

Kenji laughs. "What? You're Christian?"

"Yes, my family's Catholic," Roxie nods. "He's also notorious for hearing part of the conversation and making his own assumptions of it. He was convinced that Black Friday came after Halloween… My point is, sometimes the Bible is misconstrued and interpreted incorrectly. That might be what's going on."

"She keeps quoting the saying, 'Give thanks in all circumstances,'" he says. "She's using it as an explanation for not giving into negativity and to act like she's happy all the time."

Roxie rubs the side of her forehead, chuckling. "Yeah, that's not what it means. Giving thanks in all circumstances isn't about pretending that everything is right as rain. That verse means that no matter what the circumstances are, you trust that God is in control. God didn't say to be happy all the time and that you're sinning if you're negative. He said to trust in him and find happiness and peace in knowing that he is in control."

Kenji scrunches up his face. "So… the point isn't to be happy all the time. It's to trust in your God?"

Roxie nods. "While being thankful and happy certainly makes life easier, it's not always going to be easy to feel that way. It can be a chore to look on the positive side all the time and ignore negativity."

"Sounds like Sammy," the boy nods.

"It's a lot easier to be happy and thankful when you're trusting God," Roxie says. "Did you trust me and Dave to keep you safe at Camp?"

"Yeah," he says. "I mean, we made it hard for you guys, but you tried your best."

"Did it make you feel secure and safe knowing we were looking out for your wellbeing?" she asks.

"I was a reckless kid and may have thought I was invincible," Kenji grins. "But yeah, it was easier to feel invincible when you guys were there… It was stressful without a strong leader and caretaker there to protect us."

"So imagine how much easier it is to be happy and confident when you trust in an all-knowing God?" Roxie smiles. "With God knowing the beginning and the end, why shouldn't you trust what he says? And we win either way. If you live on Earth and listen to him, God will guide you. If you die, you go to Heaven. We really shouldn't have anything to fear. I'm not trying to change your beliefs or anything, Kenji. I'm saying that's the mindset a Christian should have. And from your account, it doesn't sound like Sammy feels that way."

Kenji nods, chewing on his lip. "Something else is bothering you?" Dave asks.

"She said…" he murmurs. "She said that Christians are supposed to marry Christians…"

He can see Dave grimace out of the corner of his eye. Roxie's lips pucker into a frown. "Well, unfortunately, she's right about that one. It's not a sin to marry a non-believer, but it's better to marry a Christian."

"Why?" Kenji asks. "Aren't you guys supposed to love everyone?"

"Yes," Roxie snorts. "But that has nothing to do with this. Loving everyone doesn't mean loving everyone romantically. When we're supposed to love everyone, it should be a selfless, Jesus-like love, not a sexual love. Marrying a non-believer can cause conflict. Marrying anyone with a different core belief system can cause conflict. Imagine a strict conservative marrying a strict liberal."

Kenji laughs. "Political fights all day."

"Exactly," she chuckles. "Or imagine someone who believes public school is better marries someone who believes homeschooling is better. Or a pro-vax marries an anti-vax. How would they agree on how to raise their children? That's one reason that it would be hard for a Christian to marry a non-believer. How would you raise your children? Where are your priorities? Our belief systems are different enough to cause problems. It'll lead to arguments or compromising. Which is why God says not to marry a non-believer. You shouldn't compromise your faith to please others."

Kenji nods, but he wasn't getting it.

Roxie chuckles. "Well, whether you're fine with it or not, Sammy believes the Bible. If you want to argue with her about it, I suggest actually reading it and talking to other Christians. Perhaps she's right, perhaps she's misunderstanding the book. Either way, it's hard to debate someone if you don't understand what they're believing."

"Hmm, I'll have to try that," Kenji says. "It's not that I'm trying to change her faith. I just don't want her hurting herself."

"Understandable," Roxie nods. "The only way to change her mind about something is to disprove what she believes. Besides that, there's nothing you can do."

Kenji smiles. "Thanks for the advice."

The two have to head back inside to continue closing up their restaurant. The party ends and Kenji heads to the hotel with his father. While his father works on business, Kenji pulls out his laptop and stares at the blank screen. He wasn't even sure where to begin. After sitting there for five minutes with no progress, the boy sighs and texts Ben about his predicament. "I hope this doesn't sound bad, but I need help researching Bible verses and meanings. Sammy's been acting weird, and she won't listen to my reasoning (calls it carnal which I don't know the meaning of) so I'm hoping I can disprove her beliefs through her own source."

Ben sends back laughing emojis before responding. "So you want my help to disprove the Bible?"

"No, I don't care if she believes that or not," Kenji replies. "I have a problem with her justifying pretending she's peachy. She says she's supposed to give thanks in all circumstances and that it means she can't ever be negative. Roxie said it's about trusting God in all circumstances and that I should research the Bible myself if I want to debate her."

"Hey, good for you for actually trying to understand our point of view instead of biasedly assuming things," Ben says. "And fyi, when a preacher or Christian says carnal, they mean you're acting in your flesh. Acting out of worldly and physical desires."

Kenji had assumed that's what it meant, but was glad Ben explained it.

"As for 'Give thanks in all circumstances,' Roxie is right," Ben continues in a large paragraph. "Giving thanks doesn't mean you're never upset or don't suffer. It means you trust the Lord and don't care what the circumstances are. There's a difference between not seeing and not caring. Standing in faith and trusting the Lord doesn't mean you pretend the hardships aren't there. It means you acknowledge the hardships, but also acknowledge that God is bigger and stronger than them, and has provided you with a way out."

"With that thinking, you guys should be the most chill and unfazed people in scary situations ever," Kenji comments, then chews on his lip. "Like Ben and Sammy on the island…"

"It can be difficult," Ben says. "We all have our moments of doubt and weakness. But this calmness and peace in any situation shouldn't come from our own abilities. It should come from a child-like trust in God. If you were to tell a toddler that they were going to Disney World, would they question you? No, they'd believe with the utmost faith. That's how we should view God. He is our father, and he promises to be with us wherever we walk and to provide a way out of our temptations. He promises to never let us be tempted more than we can handle. Knowing that, we should trust in him completely and not be scared or worried at what comes."

"That sounds like you and Sammy back on the island, but that's not her right now," Kenji replies.

"It's possible that through her trauma, she's forgotten that and screwed up that principle in her mind," Ben suggests.

Out of nowhere, Brooklynn texts the group chat with an acting challenge. "I want to try this out. It looks like fun to see how quickly you can change your emotions."

"I'd try it, just not on camera," Yasmina comments.

Kenji chuckles and texts, "Pfff, you can't act."

"Yes, I can!" she snaps back.

"I'm with Kenji on this one, I don't think you'd be the best actress," Darius agrees.

"Just because I don't like being in front of people on stage doesn't mean I can't act!" the athlete protests.

"I feel like it's pretty easy to know how you're feeling," Sammy says. "Thinking, no. Feeling, yes. Your emotions tend to be obvious."

"That's cause she mostly shows anger," Kenji texts mischievously, provoking her to send him the middle finger emoji privately.

"I think the problem is you have trouble expressing your emotions and saying how you feel," Brooklynn elaborates. "You radiate your general emotions, but expressing them is difficult."

"Bah! You guys are jerks," Yasmina sends. She attaches a picture of an offended Loki to express her opinion.

"Sorry," Sammy sends with heart emojis.

Since the athlete couldn't send a middle finger emoji without being reprimanded by Sammy, she improvises with the index finger emoji.

"We're going to be hearing about that for a while," Ben sends privately with laughing emojis.

"Oh yeah, she's going to be pissed for a LOOOOONG time," Kenji grins as he texts.

"What was I saying?" Ben asks. "Oh, yeah. It seems, for whatever reason, Sammy's twisted the verse to mean that she can't ever feel anything but happiness. This might be her way of coping with her trauma. She might not want to deal with her other emotions and she's trying to find her own logical reason for not doing so. Maybe she's forgotten how to stand faith and has turned it into works."

"What?" Kenji texts in confusion. "Works?"

"I mean, instead of trusting and listening to God and turning to him, she's trying to be holy and Godly through her own means," Ben explains. "The most reprimanded and chastised group in the Bible were the religious leaders. Jesus clashed with them so much because they weren't humble or submissive to God. They were trying to become holy by their own laws and actions. It's impossible, and they didn't even hold themselves to the standards they held other people to. The way to Heaven is not through your own works or actions. It's by believing Jesus died for us and by accepting his gift of salvation. It's harder for those taught to work for their salvation to believe that than it is for someone who's had no experience with religion beforehand."

Kenji rubs his forehead. "I'm getting half of this."

"I guess there's many possible reasons why Sammy's believing the thing she is," Ben says. "Maybe it's a way of coping with grief, or maybe she doesn't have confidence in herself. Maybe she feels unworthy and has gone from child-like faith to the need to please God, and being happy and positive all the time is how she feels she can do that. I'm sorry if I'm talking too much, I'm just trying to explain a lot of Biblical principles."

"I'll be honest, a lot of what you said sounds stupid," Kenji replies. "So what do I tell her? That she's not standing in faith and that she's a hypocrite?"

"Yeah, that won't be well received," Ben comments. "You could respectfully tell her that it seems like her focus has changed from trusting God to her own actions. You could also give her examples where Jesus felt different emotions. He wept for his dead friend Lazarus even though he was going to raise him from the dead. Jesus wept before he was crucified, even though he knew the ending. He got angry at the religious leaders and called them snakes when they turned the temple into a market place. There's many instances where Jesus was not always happy, but he always trusted his Father."

Kenji couldn't help but smile. Well, if their almighty savior could cry and get angry, he had the ultimate trump card!

"If this seems complicated, I can talk to Sammy for you," Ben suggests. "It might be better received if I talk to her, anyway, since you're not a Christian and she might be offended by you telling her something about her own beliefs."

"I want to try talking to her first," Kenji says, wincing as he brings up the next subject. "And about that… Sammy said that Christians are only supposed to marry Christians. Roxie said that it's because it can cause conflict and you guys shouldn't compromise your faith…"

Kenji knows it was a hard subject for Ben to approach, evident by him taking a couple minutes to answer. "As hard as it is to say this, she's right. God wants us to marry believers."

"Then why do you like Yaz and why did Sammy and her family agree to let me marry her?" Kenji prompts.

"Let me take a moment to formulate an answer and not be confusing," Ben asks.

Kenji gives him time. Over five minutes pass before Ben returns with an answer. "God does not want us to be led astray in our relationships, and this applies to more than just marriage. In everything we do, we're supposed to serve the Lord and make him the center of our lives. That's what makes it difficult to marry a non-believer. God wants us to draw closer to him, and having a close relationship with a believer can hinder that. A Christian friend or spouse or any other relationship to you should point you towards the Lord. Iron sharpens iron, and so should a Christian sharpen another. We are supposed to call out what needs to be worked on and strengthen each other through pointing each other towards God. We can call out what you need to work on Biblically, but since you have a different belief system, you might view it as criticism. Likewise, your ideas are not Biblical and you would point her in the direction of the world. This would cause conflict and force her to choose either you or God's ideas.

"And since we must put God first, it causes some other issues," he continues. "One thing that can be an issue is the Christian begins to idolize their spouse and look to them for happiness and meaning. This leads them away from God and makes them dependent on their spouse. Or you put God first and look to him for answers. This could make their non-believing spouse feel judged or alienated. They might not feel good enough or feel criticised for their beliefs and decisions.

"Either way, our differences in beliefs will cause stress in the marriage. God designed marriage to be a union. How can you unify peacefully when one is seeking the Lord and the other is seeking worldly answers? I'm sorry, but that's what the Bible says. I know it's hard for you to hear, and equally as hard for Sammy to hear. Wish I didn't have to say it, but I'm not going to give anything but what God says."

Kenji drops his phone on the bed and rubs the sides of his forehead in anger. He felt angry at the others for believing this way. Why couldn't he and Sammy be together? Why did they have to think this way?!

He throws himself back against the pillows, frustrated and hurt. "Come on, it's not like she'll worship me if we get married. Why would she idolize me and become co-dependent?! That's a hypothetical, worst-case-scenario situation!"

Then a memory resurfaces. One from the island. The day of his birthday… "There has to be a balance between being independent, and knowing when to ask for help," Sammy said, sitting next to him in the kitchen of his father's island condos. "You don't want to find yourself so attached to a friend that you can't live your life without them. What if something happens to them? Where would you be? At the same time, you don't want to be on the Yaz side of the spectrum and hurt yourself trying to be independent. There's nothing wrong with depending on a friend and relying on them in a tough situation, but you don't want to overdo it to the point where they're your whole life."

Kenji laughed. "It's a difficult walk to walk."

"Okay," Sammy said, poking Kenji's side and tickling him. "You can protect me if it keeps you calm on this island. And you can come to me with anything. But don't become dependent on me. It sounds cute to say I can't live without you, but please don't feel that way about me. I don't want you to find yourself feeling anxious without me there. Walk the line."

"Look how well that turned out," Kenji grumbles in his head. "NONE of us can be independent, not even Yaz… I guess Ben might have a point about the co-dependency thing…"

Against his will, he grudgingly admits to himself that Ben and Roxie had a point. Their different views would cause a bit of conflict. Heck, the two weren't even married and it was already causing problems!

But what did he do? It's not like he could just become a Christian for her. He could talk the talk and act like a Christian… he certainly had seen their life enough to play the part if he was truly desperate… but it wouldn't be good enough. He would be lying to them. Kenji had to truly believe… but he didn't. Christianity seemed stupid and mythical. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it… even for Sammy…

"Is everything alright, son?" his father asks, coming into the hotel room.

Kenji groans in response, taking a pillow and covering his face.

His father chuckles. "Want to talk about it?"

"Love and religion trouble," Kenji mumbles.

"Ah, it finally came up," Mr. Kon smirks amusedly, taking off his tie.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kenji asks, removing the pillow from his face.

"Did the idea that Christians can only marry Christians come up?" his father asks.

"Unfortunately," the boy mutters. "Ben explained the whole shebang to me… He said that God needs to be the center of their lives and that having a husband that's not a believer would cause them to choose one or the other. Said that they need to be strengthened and pointed towards God and having a non-Christian spouse wouldn't do that. If Sammy and I got married she'd idolize me and make me the center of her life. Or she'd turn to God and make me feel judged and insecure." He sputters and covers his face with the pillow again. "Why didn't this problem come up before we agreed to date… or before I fell for her."

"I was wondering when the problem would surface," his father says casually.

"You knew about this and didn't warn me?!" Kenji exclaims.

"After they accepted you, I didn't think it'd be a problem," Mr. Kon shrugs. "They seemed to accept you despite your different beliefs."

"Well look how well that turned out," the boy mutters.

"Are they kicking you out?" he asks.

"No, but Sammy brought it up while we were arguing…" Kenji says. "I don't know what to do with this. I don't believe in their religion. And I can't fake it. They'll know what I'm doing. But if this truly becomes an issue, I won't be able to marry her…"

"There might be hope," his father says, sitting on the bed next to Kenji. "Their oldest daughter got pregnant, so if Sammy were to choose you over God I don't think they'd kick her out. I doubt they'd be happy with her decision, but it's her life. If she wants to love you despite differences in religion, that's her decision."

"But I don't want her to have to decide…" Kenji says, sitting up. "I don't want either of us to decide."

"Unless you want to truly become one of them, there's nothing you can do," his father reminds him. "She's the one with a strict religion, she has to decide."

"I wish there didn't have to be a choice," the boy mumbles.

"Well, it might work out without anyone changing their religion," Mr. Kon shrugs. "Your mother was… a Christian."

Kenji lifts his downcast head and his eyes widen. "She… was?"

His father nods, his tone softening. "Abigail grew up with parents similar to Sammy's. Except she lived in the city and her parents weren't as lenient. They never approved of me… because of this same issue. Abigail chose not to listen to them and married me anyway. She… her parents disowned her for it."

The boy sits there in silence, taking it all in. His mother died when he was five. He had very few memories of her. He barely heard anything about her from his father. This was the most he had gotten out of the man in years.

"Despite our religious differences, we got along," his father continues, pain in his voice. "Of course, there were fights and arguments, but we agreed to disagree. I agreed to leave her religious peculiarities alone and she agreed not to push her ideas on me. It worked fairly well for someone who's parents told her that she would be dragged to Hell for it…"

"I didn't know Mom believed that way," Kenji murmurs.

"She had prayed that you would come to know her God like she did," Kenji's father says, placing his hand on Kenji's knee. "She used to read you Bible stories… No one can force you to believe something you don't want to. The most you can do is offer to let her believe what she wants and not to interfere with her faith as best you can. Beyond that, it's up to her."

Kenji nods, and hesitantly leans on his father's shoulder. His father awkwardly puts his arm around his son's shoulder. The contact becomes more natural after a few seconds. The two certainly had a long way to go before their relationship was normal, but they had had more positive interaction in the past month than Kenji remembered in the past five years.

Moving away, the two sleep in separate beds and his father turns off the lights. Kenji lays awake for a while, thinking over everything. He wasn't about to give up on his relationship with Sammy. The best he could do was accept her beliefs and agree to disagree. Beyond that… like his father said, it was Sammy's choice.

Irked by a thought that had popped in, Kenji grabs his phone and types up a text. "So what about you and Yaz? She's not Christian and you have a crush on her?"

Kenji half expected Ben to ignore it until the next day with the excuse that it was too late to answer. Instead, Ben answered a few minutes later. "My relationship with Yasmina is… complicated," he says vaguely.

"Guess he's struggling with the same thing Sammy is," Kenji thinks sadly. "Why does all this religion, God stuff have to make their lives so complicated?"

Feeling a bit silly about it, Kenji absentmindedly complains a bit in his head. "Well, if you do exist, I guess… maybe make it easier for Sammy to decide? Or maybe make an exception for us like you did for my father and mother? Same for Ben and Yaz? And Darius and Brooklynn?" he says in his head, refusing to even say the name of the one he was talking to. He still didn't believe in God… but hey, he could still talk to a mythical deity in his head. He had conversations in his head with people who weren't there and even with cartoon characters, so why was it any different with God?

Feeling slightly better than he did before, Kenji falls to sleep, dreading what would come the next day.

---

"What do you mean, 'yOur emOtIOns tEnd to bE obvIoUs?!'" Yasmina protests, glaring at her friend.

Sammy covers her mouth to hide her snickering. "I mean, you kinda radiate them."

"YoU kIndA rAdIate thEm," Yasmina imitates obnoxiously, typing a response to the group chat.

"So how did ya like the party?" Sammy asks, putting away her phone on her nightstand and pulling the covers up to her chin.

"It was good," Yasmina mumbles, putting away her phone as well. "I liked the pizza."

Sammy giggles. "Foodie."

"Food is nicer than people," the athlete argues. "Unless it's spicy…"

"Tell me about it, we eat Mexican food twenty-four seven," Sammy laughs.

"Try Southeast Asian cuisine," Yasmina snorts. "So how did you like the party?"

"It… it was good," Sammy stutters.

"Oh yeah? Did you have fun doing the Renegade?" the athlete quirks an eyebrow.

"What's that?" Sammy asks.

Yasmina chuckles. "An overrated Tik Tok trend."

"Naw, Brooklynn taught us something else," the paraplegic says. "Umm… I forgot what it's called."

"Hit you with that ddu, ddu, ddu," Yasmina says, mocking the arm movements.

"And you say you don't like Kpop," Sammy giggles.

"I don't, I hang around Kenji and Brooklynn too often," Yasmina grunts, turning on her side to face her friend.

Sammy winces at the first name, but covers it up. "Yeah, Brooklynn has a playlist full of them."

"You think she's bad? Kenji snuck onto my phone and added a couple randomly into my longest playlist!" she hisses. "I have over a hundred songs on the dang thing, I can't find the Kpop ones!"

Sammy laughs. "Yeah… sounds like him…"

"He also Rick Rolled me in every. Single. Youtube. And Spotify playlist," the athlete growls. "Kenji is many things, but apathetic about annoying me is not one of them."

Sammy is silent. "What's wrong?" Yasmina asks.

"Yeah, he's many things…" the cowgirl murmurs.

"Anything in particular?"

"Just… we got in an argument… again."

"Hmm," Yasmina raises an eyebrow. "Over eggs again?"

Sammy laughs softly. "No, something more serious…"

"I thought you guys were the perfect couple," she says sarcastically.

"Yaz…"

"Oh, this is serious, serious," Yasmina says, scooching closer under the covers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sammy looks at her friend in the dark and nods. She goes off on a quiet rant about her and Kenji's recent arguments, trying not to wake up the house. Miriam was asleep in her bed next to them, but thankfully, she was a very deep sleeper—she could be dead and they wouldn't know until the morning. Holly was down in the kitchen working on her college assignments.

"I wish he would stop naggin' me about it…" Sammy laments.

Yasmina is silent. "What?" Sammy asks.

"I think I side more with Kenji on this one," the athlete mumbles.

"You, too?" the cowgirl groans. "Why does everyone keep sayin' the same thing?"

"Maybe because we're right?" she suggests.

Sammy groans.

"Okay, explain to me what's going on," Yasmina sighs.

"Nothing!" Sammy hisses. "I'm fine."

The athlete pinches the bridge of her nose. "So this is what it's like living with me."

The two girls erupt in giggles. "Well, that's harsh," Sammy laughs. "To both of us."

"Okay, am I frustrating in that way?" Yasmina asks. "Frustrating in how I refuse to talk about the things that are bothering me and how I internalize them?"

"Definitely," Sammy nods.

"So… maybe you can see our frustration when you pretend like everything's fine when we all know otherwise?"

"But there's nothing wrong…"

"Samantha, sometimes you're more stubborn than I am."

Sammy chuckles. "Normally I'm the easy child."

"Is that why you don't want to admit something's wrong?" Yasmina asks. "So that you don't cause your parents and family and friends to worry and focus on you?"

Sammy turns away, basically answering the question.

"You know… d*** phone," she mutters as she gets a notification.

"Language," Sammy hisses.

"I said darn."

"No, you didn't."

"Did, too!"

"Is it Brooklynn?" Sammy asks in concern. Usually, none of the girls were allowed to have their phones at night. But Sammy's parents made an exception while Brooklynn—and Yasmina at the time—were depressed and suicidal, in case they desperately needed someone to talk to.

"No, somebody else," Yasmina says, holding the phone above her face and texting a reply.

"Who?" Sammy asks.

"Somebody," she says vaguely. "Handle it yourself, it's not that difficult," she grumbles under her breath.

"What?" Sammy chuckles.

"Nothing," Yasmina waves her hand. "But on the subject of Brooklynn, she does the same thing. Hide what she's dealing with because she doesn't want to worry us. That's what got her feverish on the island…"

"I know…" Sammy murmurs.

"I know from personal experience that hiding a problem and pretending it's not there only prolongs the issue," Yasmina continues. "At best. At worst, it makes the problem fester and become bigger. Acting like you're fine and refusing to acknowledge your other feelings leaves you frustrated and hurt when you can't feel happy. Trust me, as difficult as it is, it's better to deal with them now. I don't want to see you struggle with this for five, ten years before you finally get help."

"Positivity is essential," Sammy protests. "It's what drives you through the bad situations and keeps you from becoming downhearted."

"Go to Miss Anita," Yasmina orders. "It's okay to have negative feelings sometimes. You're not always going to be happy, and you can't push away the feelings that don't feel good. Pushing away the pain saves it for another day. You're not solving it. You're just procrastinating."

Sammy groans, rolling farther away from her friend.

The athlete sighs. "Do you actually want to feel positive or do you feel obligated to?"

"It's a Christian thing," Sammy murmurs, falling back on her excuse.

"So you're obligated to do it," she rolls her eyes.

"No, I'm not," the parapelgic protests.

"So then why is it a Christian thing to be happy all the time? Why do you have to be positive?"

"Because God—" "Says to…" she finishes in her head.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two, interrupted occasionally by Miriam lightly snoring. "Come on, Sammy! Now she's never going to come around!" the girl mentally hits herself. "It's really a good thing… staying positive and not giving into negativity. Maybe one day she'll see it… but not if you make her think she HAS to be positive."

"You shouldn't force someone to always feel one way, especially in this world," Yasmina thinks. "Come on, if God's such a loving father, why would he command this? A loving father would comfort you when you're sad. An abusive father would make you feel happy all the time and get angry when you can't accomplish it… Course… Ben acts differently… It might just be Sammy's idea…"

After a few minutes, Sammy talks again. "I just hope this doesn't break our relationship… me and Kenji's…"

"Relatable," Yasmina nods.

"'Relatable' what?" Sammy asks.

"Relatable being worried that you'll lose a friend due to a mistake," the athlete explains.

The parapelgic's face softens. "Still wounded by Leah?"

"... Yeah… That's it," she says suspiciously.

"Did something happen?" Sammy asks in concern.

"No…" Yasmina crosses her arms.

"Did you get in a fight with Darius? Kenji? Brooklynn?" she starts suggesting.

"No, they're all good," Yasmina waves her hand. "Well, except for Brooklynn, but you know what I mean."

"Is it Ben?" Sammy asks.

"Everything's fine, okay?" the athlete says, seeming a little on edge.

"I thought that phrase wasn't okay," Sammy claps back.

Yasmina glares at her. "Don't use my own words against me."

Sammy smothers her laugh. "Seriously, though. Are ya going through something with your relationship with Ben?"

"We were hanging out just fine at the party, remember?" Yasmina hisses. "Agh, it's one o'clock. We should get some sleep."

"Sus," Sammy mutters.

"Just think about what I said… okay?" Yasmina murmurs. "About allowing yourself to feel something other than happiness? It really does help… You have a range of emotions for a reason."

Sammy doesn't say anything, merely lays on her side facing away from her friend. She accepts Yasmina's touch on her upper arm, though. The girl was still adamant that she was right about the subject and the others just didn't understand.

But her resolve was starting to shake…

---

Kenji's knees bounce up and down nervously as his father drives him to the ranch. He clutched his notebook tightly. It had his major points he would make to Sammy… If she allowed him to make them.

"She's an empathetic person, I'm sure she'll listen," his father says, almost reading his mind.

I hope…" Kenji mumbles.

The two pull into the driveway. The Gutierrez's had come back from church about an hour ago. How convenient. "Maybe she learned what I'm about to tell her," Kenji thinks desperately.

Kenji heads inside by himself, feeling queasy. "Hola, Kenji," Mrs. Gutierrez greets him. "Sammy's the only one here. Yasmina's over with Brooklynn and Ben and Darius are together."

"Okay," the boy nods. "Where is she?"

"She's in the living room," she gestures to the room attached to the kitchen.

Kenji breathes in deeply and heads into the room. Sammy was sitting on the couch with one of the cats in her lap. She looked like she was hard in thought, her features scrunched up. It didn't look like it was a positive cycle of brainstorming, though…

Kenji clears his throat. Sammy startles. Miny, the grey tabby with a swirled stripe pattern, jumps with her owner. "Sorry to startle both of you," Kenji apologizes.

"It's okay," she mumbles.

The two stay there in awkward, tense silence. Sammy continued to rub her cats back while Kenji uncomfortably stood in front of her. Finally, he speaks. "I'm not going to argue just to argue, and I'm not trying to harp on your religion. I want to calmly debate this because I'm worried for you. I'm arguing because I care about you and you're hurting yourself."

"I appreciate yer concern, Kenj, but you don't have to be—" she starts as usual.

"Please, just hear me out," he interrupts. "I know some of this is a difference in beliefs, which is why I talked to Roxie and Ben. They're both Catholic. I asked them questions regarding your statements about the Bible and… other things. I'm not trying to change your mind about God and such, I just want you to hear me out on this subject with an open mind."

Her facial expression changed from one of tension and defensiveness to one of surprise. Sammy wasn't expecting him to have done research… "Okay," she nods, a little more open to what he had to say.

Kenji exhales and opens the notebook to his bookmarked page. "You've insisted that you must always be happy and never show signs of negative emotions or problems you're dealing with because you must 'Give thanks in all circumstances.' False. That's not what that statement means, and God never told you that you had to stay happy all the time."

Sammy strokes the cat, still open to his point of view. "Explain."

Emboldened by her reception, Kenji moves onto his first point. "I have three points I want to make. First, you're supposed to use Jesus as the ultimate example of how to act, right?"

She nods.

"Jesus wasn't always happy and smiling," he states. "When La… Lazaza… Lasurs… Lasagna…"

The parapelgic cackles. "Lazarus."

"When Lazarus died, Jesus wept for him," Kenji continues. "He was going to raise the dude from the dead, but he still cried over his death. When he was about to be put on the Cross, he was tormented and sweated blood. When he went to the Temple and found it turned into a market, he got angry and whipped people. Correct?"

Sammy nods. "Right."

"So if Jesus can cry and feel pain and get angry, why can't you?" he asks.

She chews on her lip, thinking over his point.

"My second point is, you're not using the phrase correctly," he continues. "'Give thanks in all circumstances' means just that. It doesn't say anywhere in that phrase that you can't be sad or mad or disappointed. It doesn't mean you can't have other feelings. It means you trust God no matter what and thank him for what he's done for you. As Ben said: 'There's a difference between not seeing and not caring. Standing in faith and trusting the Lord doesn't mean you pretend the hardships aren't there. It means you acknowledge the hardships, but also acknowledge that God is bigger and stronger than them, and has provided you with a way out.' Acting like your problems and other feelings don't exist isn't standing in faith. It's using your own strength to push through the feelings and problems you don't want to deal with. You're not trusting God with your life and problems, you're trying to solve them on your own."

Sammy stops petting the cat and crosses her arms. It was difficult for her to accept.

"I've gotten this far… hopefully she'll listen until the end," he thinks nervously. "My third point is… you're being kind of hypocritical. You're treating us differently, and in a way, yourself differently than what you say. You encourage us to talk about what's bothering us, yet you won't allow yourself the same. And the way you're acting now is different from the way you acted on the island. When Ben said that y'all are supposed to be calm and peaceful because you trust God, it made me think of you on the island. It doesn't sound like you now. Back on the island, you were positive we would make it out because you believed God would save us. Now, it's different. It's not about how God will help you through whatever you're going through, it's how you have to be positive. You have to be happy because he tells you to, not because he's a good God or because you trust him. This sounds more like you feel pressured to be happy all the time and are using religion as an excuse."

Sammy held her head down, looking at her cat to conceal her features.

"I… I'm not sure what caused the switch," Kenji stutters. "I don't see anything harmful about believing your God will carry you through everything. If anything, it seemed to help you and Ben and Darius through the experience, especially those last few days on the island. What is harmful is acting like you don't see the elephant in the room. I'm not sure why you've changed mindsets… Maybe through all the trauma and recovery and whatnot, you've forgotten and gotten confused. Maybe this is a coping mechanism for all the trauma you've been through and you just don't want to deal with the pain and sadness. Or maybe you feel obligated to for some reason… Maybe you feel like we depend on you being positive and you feel like you can't let it go. I don't care what it is, Sam… Please stop. Even if you don't tell me what's going on, at least admit that something's wrong. Stop pretending you're fine. Stop ignoring your pain. It'll only make the wound worse."

Sammy lifts her head to look at him. Tears were threatening to spill over. "It's all three…" she whispers, a lone tear slipping out of her left eye. She immediately tries to recover from the breach in her facade.

Kenji kneels down in front of her. "It's okay, you don't have to pretend. You don't have to act like everything's fine. I can come to you with anything… and you can come to me with the same."

The cracks burst open like a dam and Sammy allows herself to cry. She didn't really have a choice as Kenji pulled her into a warm, comforting hug as he moved to sit next to her on the couch. She sobs for a few minutes before trying to talk. "I can't take it… I don't like the pain… I don't like the memories. The bad ones. I want to forget them! I don't want to deal with them… I don't want the trauma and the stress and the anxiety! I don't want to feel it… I don't want to feel it…"

Kenji rubs her back soothingly, lending a listening ear as she rambles.

"I've always been the positive one," she weeps. "The happy child… the easy child… Gosh, Yaz was right… I don't wanna be the difficult child… I wanna be the helpful child… the good friend… Y'all always say my positivity is the thing that helped us through. My spirits helped y'all keep hope… It was what drew you to me… I… I didn't want to lose you… I didn't want to lose myself…"

"Feeling sad doesn't mean you're not you or that we don't like you," Kenji murmurs in her ear. "Do you think I would've put in this much debating if I didn't like a sad you? Just because I like seeing you smile doesn't mean I'll hate you when you cry. Having a range of emotions doesn't turn me off. It doesn't make you a bad friend. It doesn't even make you different from how you usually act. That's like saying Yaz is weird for being happy once in a while."

Sammy half cries, half laughs.

"Hey, we've stuck with Brooklynn and Yaz through their depression this whole time," Kenji argues. "Would we not do the same for you? Don't try to justify it by saying, 'Well, they weren't vital to the team for positivity.' 'Being happy and positive makes me me.' If we stuck with them through deep sadness, we'll stick with you through it. Even if it's a tiny feeling that seems unimportant, we're still going to be there for you."

She nods, wiping her eyes and grabbing a tissue.

"Try to acknowledge them slowly if you can't handle them all at once," he suggests. "One feeling at a time. One wound at a time."

She sighs shakily. "Thank you, Kenji. I really appreciate you."

A lump forms in his throat. "You know… I don't believe the same thing you do… But I don't care. I won't interfere with your religion. I won't try to lead you astray. You do you, and I'll do me. If you need Biblical advice, I… I don't understand it, but I'll let you take it… I won't mess with it…"

Sammy shakes her head. "Let's… let's save that subject for another time. One wound at a time, like you said."

Kenji nods, understanding that she had just faced something that she had been hiding for a while. He had pushed her enough… He'll let the 'Christians marry Christians' thing be a discussion later.

"Is everything okay?" her mother asks, standing in the doorway with oven mitts on.

"Yeah… Can I see Miss Anita?" Sammy asks.

"A-Ahora? (R-right now?)" her mother stutters.

"No, but sometime later," the parapelgic says.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mrs. Gutierrez asks.

"No mucho, (Not really,)" she murmurs. "Maybe later… I kinda just wanna hang out with la familia and laugh."

"Alright," her mother nods. "Your sisters are playing dolls upstairs if you want to join them. Your Papa's out with the cattle but when he comes back, we could have a game night."

"That sounds like fun," Sammy nods, looking at Kenji.

He scrunches up his face. "Sí… I would like that."

"Estaría bien," Sammy suggests.

"Estaría bien!" Kenji gives Mrs. Gutierrez a thumbs up as she walks away. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'You have a nice butt,'" Sammy says, trying to have a poker face.

Fortunately, Kenji was too mortified to notice her smirk. "Wait, I didn't mean that!" he exclaims, making Sammy truly wheeze for the first time in a while. She had to admit to herself, she did feel better letting go of those pent feelings.

"It's okay to not be okay sometimes, girl," she tells herself. "Stop being so hard on yourself… Mess with Kenji in Spanish a little more often."

With a laugh, she assures him that he didn't say anything of the sorts, and the two head upstairs to interact with her sisters.