Max turned the lights on in the apartment, expecting them to be on. But the only living thing there was a calico. Isis promptly ran to her, mrowing her greetings.

"Isis!" The cat purred happily, "Mommy's sorry. I had to stay at Terry's for a while to be safe. Did the neighbors feed you well? Is my baby alright?"

Isis' meow was taken as an affirmative.

"Yesss, Mama's baby." She cooed lovingly to the mixed-colored ball of fur.

A note on the coffee table caught her attention:

Maxine, we went to grab dinner. We want to spend a few more days with you. Love: Mom and Dad.

P.S. Your loving sister will be joining us too.

"This is new." Max said to herself, examining the paper. She tossed onto the counter.

"And it only took my life almost ending to get them all here together."

Isis followed her to the bedroom, simply happy her mistress was finally home again.


That night, Max joined the Gibson family. Her mother Lena, father Stanley, and delinquent college-aged sister Charlene actually took her out to have Chinese. It was unusual spreading time with blood relations when the McGinnis family and her friends were more of a family.

For the next week, Max had to reincorporate into a family unit that really wasn't a unit.She knew her parents would return to their separate lives. Since the Angel Proctor incident, she could see her family trying to make an effort to comfort her. But Max knew that business and bad blood would pull her parents away and school would keep Charlene busy. After going back to the apartment with Charlene, the two girls chattered for awhile before a relutant Charlene left to go the the hotel with her parents. (I just worry about now, little sis, she told Max before giving a quick tight hug.)

"You're my only friend." She cooed to the calico with jeweld-colored eyes while.

"Mrow." Isis purred her 'thank you' to her mistress.

A picture caught her eyes on the nightstand. It was of her and Terry in the sixth grade at the pool.

He was a throw back of Matt at that time, her hair was still dark brown and long until her high school makeover.

Her fingers ran lovingly over the frame.

When did things change? When did her feelings change?

"Oh yeah, Terry," she said to the picture. "We are definitely not kids anymore."


The Dark Knight wiped the sleep from his eyes, winding down another night of crime and dramatics on the rooftop of the Gotham Downtown Bank. His mind mulled over one key issue: What interest did his best friend have in him anyways?

Terry thought better of it–why torture yourself when friendship is the best thing? He decided to keep his feelings to himself.

He managed to convinced himself that his attraction to the dark-skinned lady with pink locks was just passing hormonal interest. A device of being on the rebound from his now ex, a fantasy with no depth.

'She's just my friend. Why ruin that?' was the conclusion he came to in the middle of the week.

An mocking voice in the back of his head spoke:

'Or you just don't have the guts to tell her, dreg.'

Him, Batman, afraid to admit his feelings to a girl?

Naw.

He was simply . . . . preserving the friendship.

'That's a lie, McGinnis, you're looking for any excuse to avoid it.'

"I don't like her." He hissed at the reflection in a glass window, furious trying to convince himself.

'And the sky ain't blue.' It seemed to answer back.