Syl left shortly after explaining to Mom how she had survived the fire and why she came back to Seattle. I barely listened to the entire conversation-mostly because I had already heard it before-and stuck to staring out the window.

By this time, the rain had ceased, leaving only muddy puddles as evidence that it had been there at all. Puddles for children to play in with their little yellow dump trucks, and puddles for adults to scoop water out of and wash over their scruffy faces because they were far too poor to afford bath water.

Slowly, I turned away from the window, feeling my heart tear for the people that had so much less than I did. And I thought I was bad off.

Mom was standing off to the side of the kitchen countertop, staring off into space while she clutched a coffee mug between her pale fingers. Her hair was still wet and made tiny puddles on the floor below. She should wrap it up or something. Otherwise, we were going to have mildew on the floor. Not something I looked forward to when I woke up.

I rose stiffly to my feet as my knees cracked and walked over to Mom. I wasn't exactly sure what to say because Syl had made all of it rather clear-the heat cycles would never stop. Yes, it was part of us, always had been and always would be.

And like Syl had said, Mom's heat cycles weren't nearly as bad as mine.

I could go into detail here about how terrible and vicious the cycles were to both my body and my mind, but I'll save that for a later date. Let's just say that I had accidentally sprained my mom's arm in an attempt to get away from her while she was trying to restrain me. I didn't even realize I hurt her until later on when my mind was fully cleared.

Crappy genetics.

I was about to say something to Mom, when the phone rang. She looked up, seemingly coming out of her drugged up state and nodded for me to get it. Obediently, I picked it up.

"Hello?"
"Can I speak to Alanza?" the other voice asked.

"This is she."

"It's Max."

"Hey!" I cried, happy to hear from her. "How ya doin'?"
She laughed slightly. "Better than I would've hoped."

"That's good to hear."

"Really," she muttered.

"So, what's up?"

"Ok, here's the deal, actually it's not a deal, but you get the point."

"Uh-huh."

"I was wonderin' if you'd like to go campin' this week. I mean, I don't got any school, and you're out too-right?"

"Yep," I replied.

"I mean, it'll give us a chance to talk and stuff…I know that sounds cheesy, but you get what I'm saying."

"Yeah, I've been wanting to talk about it, too."

"That's good…I guess."

"Is there a catch to all of this?" I asked her.

"Well, my boyfriend said he might be in that area."

"Might?"

"Might. He doesn't know for sure. He hasta ask his 'rent first."

"Rent?" I echoed, not quite understanding what she was saying with her abnormal dialect.

"Parent."

"Ah."

"So, are you game?" she asked.

"Sure, what the heck. There's not a whole lot I can do around here anyhow."

"Cool. Just be sure to bring your sleeping bag and clothes. Usual stuff. I'll bring the tent along."

"So, do you want me to meet you at your apartment?"

"No, I'll come to yours."

"Thanks." I rattled off the apartment number to her, which she instantly memorized.

"See ya tomorrow?"

"Yep," I replied and hung up the phone.

Mom turned towards me, having heard the conversation only from my side.

"Who was that?" she asked, being a typical parent.

"Max. She wants to go camping for a couple days."

"Fine with me," she replied, even though I hadn't asked anything as she turned back to her coffee mug. "Might do you some good to get out of this broken city."