Breeanne stood restricted between her mother and her fathers sides as they calmly walked into Irving Hall as a family. The smiles on each of her parents faces brightened as they greeted just about everybody in the whole of Manhattan. Everybody except the two boys that lounged in the seats above the crowd, each with their chins resting on their arms and a dazed look printed on each of their faces.

Gazing around cautiously as her mother shook hands with a family friend, Breeanne began to wander away from her parents, inch by inch. Eventually the body heat that once cramped her between her parents lessened and she knew she was free for a good portion of the night, until they noticed she was gone that is. She hastily made her way around a wall and pushed her back up against it, sighing and sliding down to the ground, placing her head in her hands.

"I'm fat, I'm fat." She repeated to herself softly as bypassers stared at her awkwardly. She shook her head, ignoring the stares and dashed to the nearest bathroom. Jabbing a finger in her throat she began to heave up the remains of her dinner, turning the toilet water a murky brownish tint. Once her dinner had been relieved of her she stood up, wiping her face and walking from the stall, to meet eyes with a boy a little taller then her, she gasped.

"Ey dere pretty-face. What's a goil like ya doin' in da boys bathroom?" He laughed, nodding towards the sign on the wall that clearly read, "mens."

Breeanne blushed a deep crimson, "I was just, I just .. I got sick." She managed to sputter from her mouth, turning away from the boy and gazing into the mirror to check her flawless hair.

"Sorry ta hear dat." The boy followed close behind her, leaning himself on the wall with one leg up to balance him. Breeanne swiftly turned, walking towards the door once she noticed the boy's ragged attire.

"I must go find my parents, they must be worried sick about me." She huffed, wondering to herself why she even needed an explanation for this kid. It was clear that if she were ever caught in his presence, other then buying a newspaper from him, she would never be permitted to converse with him. She began to swing the door open in order to leave when his hand came down upon it. "I'm Spot. Who are you'se?" A smirk crawled to his lips.

"I'm Breeanne Withers. What kind of name is Spot?" A brisk tint of anger could be heard in her tone.

"It's da one me friends call me. You'se gotta problem wit' it?" Spot inquired, letting go of the door that held her back, "Go back to ya muddah, you'se of no use to me." Breeanne began to leave, rolling her eyes, but suddenly stopped in her actions.

"You're the answer to my wish." She whispered, Spot leaned closer.

"Whaddja say?"

"I said you're the answer to my wish. I wished tonight, I wished to leave my life." Breeanne spun around smiling brightly at him and sticking out his hand, "Let's start from scratch, I'm Breanne Withers."

"An' ya fuckin' crazy too." Spot shook his head, walking from the bathroom.

[A/N: Crazy stuff, I really didn't realize how much this sounded like Titanic until my first review, but trust me, it's nothing like it .. well maybe it sounds like it. But read on, it's not a copy of Titanic, I swear. Well, enjoy and R&R]