Hi. I decided I couldn't wait for reviews so here's the next chapter.

I woke up, but I didn't open my eyes right away. I was still trying to take everything that happened in, so I didn't notice the voices at first. I felt sore after my fall, but I didn't feel like I broke anything. The grass must have cushioned my. 'Grass?'

I opened my eyes. I was lying in the middle of a field where kids were playing soccer. The field was next to a school and a lot. Then a kid kicked the ball right at my head. I covered my head to shield the blow, but the ball just went right through me. Then the kid ran through me. I blinked. I didn't feel a thing! Then I noticed none of the kids even knew I was there. I got freaked out that maybe I died in the fall and became a ghost or something. Then the kid that ran through me scored a goal and I got a better look at him. He looked familiar. I gasped. It was Raimundo. Only he was 9 years old. I realized I must be in one of Raimundo's memories. I looked up. There didn't seem to be any way out. I guess I had to go through the memory before I got out. A whistle sounded. The coach was calling Raimundo over. As Raimundo ran to the coach, I felt a big jerk around my waist, and felt myself being pulled toward him. I guess since this is his memory I had to go everywhere with him. "What's the problem?" Raimundo asked the coach.

There was a dark haired lady in a red dress by the coach. They both looked worried. "Please come with me Raimundo," the lady said.

Raimundo groaned. 'What did I do now?'

The voice was his, but his mouth didn't move. I guess that was what he was thinking right now. He followed the lady into the school. I walked with him to avoid being pulled along. We arrived at the principal's office. I guess Raimundo has been here many times before because he went straight to the chair in front of the principal's desk, leaned back, crossed his legs, and folded his arms across his chest like he came here every day. I wouldn't be surprised if he did. The principal's had the same expression as the lady and the coach. "There isn't really gentle way to say this Raimundo. You mom went out this morning-"

"To 'Jays' to pick up the 'Rio de Janerio Times' and have coffee." Raimundo interrupts. "She does that every morning. So what?"

The principal sighed. "Eric killed Rachel this morning. I'm sorry Raimundo,"

I wish I knew what was going on. Raimundo looked freaked out. 'This is just a sick joke.'

"That's not funny." he said getting up.

"This isn't a joke Raimundo. We called a friend of your mom's and she's coming to pick you up."

Raimundo is white as chalk now. "Look, I just remembered, I left my drawing in art class, and I really want to show it to my mom when I get home-"

"Raimundo, don't you understand?" asked the lady. "Your mother is dead. Your father shot her,"

"I have to show her my drawing," Raimundo said firmly, and raced out of the room.

I was so shocked about what the lady said, I forgot I had to go with him, and paid for it by being dragged behind him. Raimundo's dad killed his mom? That was to hard to believe. Suddenly, the hallway dissolved into silver and I started falling again. This time I didn't fall far, and landed on a bed. I was in what looked like a guest bedroom. The clock said 5:35. Raimundo was lying in the bed awake, staring at the ceiling. I guess he was at his mom's friend's house. Then Raimundo got out of bed, got dressed (I closed my eyes as he did this), grabbed his travel bag, and went out the door. I ran out with him, not wanting to be dragged again. He went into the kitchen. I thought he was going to make breakfast, but instead he got out a pen and paper and wrote: I'm going home Miranda. Raimundo. Then just like that, he went out the door and to the bus stop. I thought he must be crazy to go to his house by himself. Then I remembered that he was a traumatized nine-year old. It was weird that he didn't cry at all. Either I missed it, he was still in shock, or he was the most insensitive person I've ever met. When the bus came, he went to the very back and sat thinking ' When I get home, mom will be in her studio, drawing and drinking tea like she always is in the morning. We'll talk about how stupid this prank is and I can show her my drawing that I finally got right. Dad cares too much about reputaion and his job as a psychiatrist to kill someone.'

I guess Raimundo is in denial. We get off in front of his school. Then he goes one block down, goes through a cemetery, climbs a fence, and we're in his back yard. In it is a barn, a tire swing, and a soccer ball. I follow Raimundo into the barn. The inside looks like an art museum. There are paintings and drawings everywhere, expect for the kitchen in the corner and the couch in the center. Raimundo looked around, probably for his mom. Then he digs into his travel bag and pulls out a drawing. It's of a lady, who I guess is his mom, pushing Raimundo in the tire swing. It was a terrific drawing, but Raimundo didn't strike me as an artist. I guess Raimundo thought so to because I would later find out that he never drew again. Or maybe it reminded him too much of his mom. In the drawing, she was tall, had tan skin, long dark hair, and green eyes. Raimundo took the drawing over to a wall where some of his other drawings were. I could see why he was so excited about showing her the drawing and why it was so good. The other drawings were of the same thing, but they didn't look as real. They were formed in the shape of a square, but the center was empty.

'I always wanted to throw these away and start over. But you said we should keep them so when I did start over we could really see the progress in the new one and really appreciate what it has become. You always said we shouldn't be afraid to start over Mom.

Then he taped it up in the center of the square and stepped back to admire the progress he made. "There you go Mom," he said aloud. "It's finally finished,"

I heard him think he could hear his mom telling him what a great job he did. But of coarse, when he looked behind him, no one was there.

"Mom?" he calls out hesitantly.

And then it finally hits him like a fist. She's really gone. Then the tears come. He throws himself onto the couch faced down, hugs a pillow to his face, and sobs into it. I wished I could say or do something to make him stop, but of coarse he couldn't see, hear or feel me, so all I could do was cry with him.

So, what do you think? Please tell me. Raimundo's dad comes in to the next chapter. I write it as soon as I can. I hope you like it!