A/N: I'm figuring that Adam and Grace were born in 1987, so they should be 10 or 11 in 1998.

Chapter Theme: No Rain by Blind Melon. I don't know why, but it kept floating through my head.

nyklm: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas would have been perfect for the Christmas Day chapter. I should be ashamed of myself for not thinking of it since it's my favorite Christmas song. Oh, well. I'll just have to go back and add it. Thanks for the suggestion.

Enjoy the chapter. Alexandri

"What's up, Buttercup?" Steve Ramsey asked as he, Grace, and Adam walked through one of their favorite sewers. "Why so quiet?"

"I told you not to call me Buttercup, Ramsey."

"I told you not to call me Ramsey," he retorted. "I'll stop when you do."

Grace rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her feet. One foot directly in front of the other—that was the goal. Walking in a perfectly straight line, like a high wire, required balance, poise, precision, confidence, focus. Grace didn't have these things, not anymore. So she practiced as often as possible, one foot directly in front of the other, hoping to reclaim the ground she'd lost. She looked up, an experiment, to see how far they were from the end of the sewer. She tripped and Adam caught her before she hit the ground. "Thanks," she mumbled when she regained her footing.

"No problem," he said casually.

They walked in silence—Adam in the middle, an intentional buffer between the pair. Grace knew that Adam was trying to keep the peace between his two oldest friends. He thought she didn't like Ramsey. This wasn't true; she actually thought he was kind of funny, especially if you considered his home life. His nickname used to amuse her sort of, back when it fit her. Now it was just a remainder of one more thing that she'd lost. No, the real reason for her seeming dislike had nothing to do with Ramsey's personality. It had to do with his bulk. Both of the boys were taller than Grace but, unlike Adam, Ramsey was massive. His five foot, one hundred thirty-three pound body dwarfed Grace's own four foot five inch, eighty-pound frame. He simply made her uncomfortable. She knew that if she ever pissed him off bad enough, all he'd have to do is push her down and sit on her. She wouldn't stand a chance.

"You know," Adam said suddenly, "Buttercup isn't really appropriate anymore." Lifting a lock of Grace's newly shorn, recently dyed hair, he studied it for a moment before asking, "What did your mom say when she saw it?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, a tense hush descended on the trio. Grace didn't respond, choosing to glare at him and swat his hand away instead.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he whispered, clearly mortified by his slip. Although they'd never discussed it, they all knew not to mention Grace's mother. Or Adam's, for that matter. Or Ramsey's home situation in general. They may all be best friends, but some things were just too painful to discuss with anyone. "Really," he said helplessly as he watched her stand there trembling, "I didn't mean to."

"Whatever, Rove." She turned around and stomped back the way they'd come.

"Grace," he called after her. "Come on, Grace, we're supposed to stay together."

She just kept going. When she heard them follow, she began to run. They may be bigger, but she was lighter and faster. She quickly made it to the surface and ran across the field until the tears she was trying to outrun got the best of her. Dropping to the ground, Grace pulled her knees to her chest and waited for the boys to catch up while tears streamed down her face.

She buried her face in her knees when Adam and Ramsey found her a few minutes later.

"What did you run off for, Buttercup?" Ramsey asked as he plopped down across from her. She didn't bother answering. His voice said he already knew.

Adam sank down near her, not close enough to invade her personal space, but close enough to lend comfort if she wanted it. He didn't say anything.

Somehow, his silence made everything worse. She could feel his sympathy and Ramsey's concern crashing over her like waves and, before she could stop it, she began to sob.

Everything was so wrong. Her hair was awful. She'd cut it really short—it stopped just under her ears—and dyed it a muddy brown. It didn't suit her anymore than her new wardrobe did. She'd dyed her clothes, too—browns, grays, blacks—dark, drab, lifeless colors that hardly counted as colors at all. She missed her greens and blues and oranges, her purples and her reds. Her dad missed them, too. He'd taken one look at her clothes and got that "Oh, Gracie, why?" look that he seemed to wear so often now. He'd winced when he'd seen her new hairdo, but he hadn't said anything. He'd just looked sad. She was sad, too, and she covered her bare, chilled neck despite the sun burning down on it.

"She didn't say anything," she whispered finally. "I don't think she even noticed."

Suddenly, Adam was next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Ramsey sat at her feet, not touching but showing his understanding with his nearness. She rested her head on Adam's shoulder and smiled at Ramsey.

He smiled back. "I like the cut," he said. "But the color is rank. Maybe you should go red next time."

"Steve," Adam said sharply.

Grace giggled and sat up. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, wiped her eyes, and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I don't think red will look any better than this."

"Pink might get her attention," Adam offered.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But I shouldn't have to work for it."

Ramsey nodded and stared at his hands.

The three sat for a long time quietly shredding blades of grass, each lost in their own thoughts. Grace felt lucky to have them for friends. She had so few left nowadays.

Eventually, the sun got low in the sky. "We should head back," Adam said, getting up. Grace and Ramsey followed suit and the three made their way to their abandoned bikes and started the ride home.

They came to Ramsey's house first. "Buck up, Buttercup." He cast a derisive glance at his home. "It could be worse."

She nodded. He had a point. "See ya, Ramsey," she called as he went up the driveway.

They arrived at Adam's house next. "You want me to see you home? Make sure you get there okay?"

"I'm good," she said with a shake of her head. "Say hi to your parents for me."

Adam stared at her for a moment as if he were trying to decide if he should see her home anyway. Grace stared back, letting him know that it really wasn't necessary. She'd learned a long time ago that silent communication worked best with Adam. Finally, he nodded and turned toward his house.

Grace waited until he was inside before slowly pedaling home. Leaving her bike against the side of the house, she went in. Making as little noise as possible, she carefully avoided the rooms her parents were most likely to be in and slipped into her room. She lay on her bed and curled up with the huge stuffed tiger her brother had won for her five years ago. As her eyes drifted closed, she wished she could go back to that time. Life hadn't hurt as much then. Things were simpler, better. She'd believed her father was omnipotent and that her mother loved her. She'd give just about anything to go back to those days.