Note: Hey, this was an extremely difficult chapter for me to write so please leave some feedback if you think it needs improvement.

Adam and his father didn't speak on the car ride back to the train station. Adam was beyond frustrated, knowing that he couldn't make his father understand. Guy looked surprised when Adam walked into the dorm room that day. As Guy was leaving to hang out with his girlfriend Connie, Adam climbed into bed with all of his clothes on and turned off the lights. When Guy returned more than 5 hours later, Adam was still in the same position, staring up into the ceiling. It was a silent, solemn night. For the first time, Adam cursed the strange ethereal woman and her choice to send him back. He fell asleep with a cold sadness in his heart.

Adam ventured out for a walk Sunday afternoon, knowing that Guy was perilously close to getting the rest of the Ducks involved in his melancholy. The last thing Adam wanted was having to deal with the well- meaning concern of his teammates and friends. So Adam bundled himself up and walked, not caring where he went as long as he could release his pent up frustration and feeling of inevitable loneliness. Adam walked for hours, his head down with his breath visible in the cold Minnesota air. He refused to look and think about things and places around school that had held any importance to him—anything that would make Adam miss the life he was leaving behind. Adam succeeded in making himself feel numb when he spotted Thomasin leaving the library. Thomasin gave him a smile as she approached. Adam knew that his newfound emotional apathy would be troubled by an encounter with her. He hadn't spoken to her in days—simply because Adam didn't quite know how to deal with her. So Adam did the only thing he could think of at the moment—he ran away. He was a coward and Adam was ashamed of himself. However, he did not get away quickly enough to miss seeing the hurt in Thomasin's eyes. Adam cursed himself, knowing that he had hurt Thomasin too many times lately.

It was Monday afternoon and Adam was sitting on a bench alone on Commons Field, watching all the people pass—his schoolmates. Eric Harmon from Adam's English class walked past with an arm around the shoulder of his girlfriend, Tara Evans. Erica Li, the senior class's inevitable valedictorian walked while studying out of a Physics textbook, wearing a Harvard sweatshirt. Kristin Chatham and Heather Yoast sat on the bench opposite Adam, smiling and laughing loudly, probably gossiping about other people and what they were wearing. He sat there, jealous knowing that these people all had tomorrows, and they would have more tomorrows to come. By Adam's count, he only had—he checked his watch quickly—three tomorrows left. Logically, Adam knew that he was luckier than most—to know the exact moment that one is going to die is an unusual privilege. But at this moment, Adam was having trouble feeling lucky.

Just then Adam realized that he was not alone on the bench. He turned his head sideways and saw that Portman had joined him. He and Dean sat there for a moment in silence. Portman broke the silence.

"Everyone's been worried about you, man." Portman's expression took Adam by surprise—his voice was uncharacteristically soft and self-conscious like he was not used to expressing concern for others.

Adam sighed in frustration. "Yeah, I know."

Portman stared straight ahead. "Anything I can do to help?" Although Portman liked to give the impression that he was a lone wolf, Adam knew that he could count on him for anything. But he wasn't sure if Portman could do anything in this particular situation. "You know, if you need to talk or anything." Adam was even more surprised at Portman's offer—and touched. He knew how hard it was for Portman to potentially expose himself vulnerably and appreciated the gesture.

Adam figured it could help to talk to Portman about some things—he had a strange feeling that Portman would know in some shape or form how Adam was feeling. Adam ran his fingers through his mussed, brown/blond hair. "I don't know. It's a lot of things. Tamsin for one—I keep hurting her, intentionally and unintentionally and I don't know why. Coach told me that I'm being considered for National Player of the Year and I don't even know if I care. My dad hates me and refuses to acknowledge me as his son because I don't care. It's a whole bunch of me just not caring or not knowing or...Damnit, I don't know."

Portman was quiet, deep in thought. "You know, before I joined the Ducks, I used to help my older brother jack cars and...other stuff." Portman did not elaborate but Adam got the idea and simply nodded. "I landed myself in lots of different juvies. The slightest thing you could do wrong in some of these places—give someone a dirty look or not avert your eyes when a warden was talking to you—could cost you. Life back then was just about surviving. Now I'm just grateful to be alive. We all go through hardships—and I'm not a religious guy at all—but I don't think we're ever given anything we can't handle. When trouble does come around, it does no use to think 'What if?' We do the only thing we can do—play the hand that we've been dealt."

Adam leaned back on the bench and rubbed the back of his neck. Portman was right and it had taken him this long to realize it. "Wow, Portman. Thanks."

Portman smiled at him—with just a hint of wicked slyness. "Yeah, you know, 'the game's a seven-card stud." He stood up, nodded and strolled away.

Adam laughed. Portman never ceased to surprise him, Adam thought as he remembered the quote from "A Streetcar Named Desire."