xX... since the reviews weren't exactly flooding in, I might want to warn you that this story might get a little dark (don't bug me 'bout the two: mights). I would like to thank Swimmerkitti for reviewing my story! YEAH! So... without further ado, chapter two (it rhymes! Hehe) ...xX

Katie London was dreaming, a wonderful dream, she was running in a field of flowers, she was sixteen again, all her old friends were there. The sun was shining, Dewey was playing a Phish song on his guitar... Her daughter was there, running. Wait... Her daughter?

"Mom...? Mom...? Get up, phone's for you," Kirsten London said timidly.

Katie opened her eyes wearily, as the person standing in front of her came into focus she saw her daughter: Kirsten, in her pajamas, holding the phone.

"Who the hell would be calling this late?" Katie shook her head and took the phone from Kirsten, who nodded and went back to bed.

"Hello?" Katie asked into the phone, wearily.

"Ms. London, this is Will Rufkin, Summer Hathaway's husband, something has happened..."

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"OLIVER! GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! DO YOU HERE ME! DO YOU WANT ME TO PUNISH YOU FOR BEING LATE!?" Zack Mooneyham looked at his watch, "YOU WILL BE LATE FOR YOUR DATE, COME ON! I'VE GOT A FLIGHT TO CATCH!" Oliver Mooneyham came bounding down the stairs, in his hand was a single red rose. He finished buttoning the last buttons of his plain, dark, casually button down and zipped up the fly of his pin-striped pants and smiled at his dad as he went and sat down in the front seat of Zack's BMW Convertible.

"C'MON DAD! WE'LL BE LATE! YOU'LL MISS YOUR FLIGHT!" Oliver yelled jokingly at his dad. Zack smiled and got into the car.

"Be back by... uh... let's say: ten thirty? Have Ms. Claiebourne drive you home if you don't wanna walk or take the bus, let yourself in, and I'll be back tomorrow at around noon but I'll probably go straight to the office."

"Kay, dad," Oliver rolled his eyes. Just because his mother left his dad was always paranoid that for some reason, he might.

"Have fun, Ollie!" Zack called as his son rang the doorbell of Victoria Claiebourne.

Zack smiled and drove off, heading for the airport when his cell phone rang, "I thought I turned this damn thing off," Zack thought, but answered it anyway.

"Mooneyham Law Services, Pebble Beach, this is Zackary." Zack answered like clockwork.

"You might want to change your flight,"

"What?" Zack asked, looking around and putting up the roof of his car.

"I'm Will Rufkin, Summer Hathaway's husband, something has happened..."

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"No, try playing the E above the scale please Xianghu," Lawrence persisted as he sat at a piano with a little girl. The girl struggled to find the not, Lawrence placed a delicate finger on it.

"Tank You, Missa Lawrent," Xianghu stuttered out.

Lawrence laughed. His cell phone began to ring.

"One second, Hello?"

"This is Will Rufkin, Summer Hathaway's husband, something has happened..."

.......................................................

"This is Will Rufkin, Summer Hathaway's husband, something has happened, something horrible. Summer has been assassinated. She requested that everyone from her middle school band come to the funeral only. If you could please make it to her summer home in the Hamptons, we would greatly appreciate it. I know Summer would. When you get there just call me. 212-467-3478. I'm sorry.

Fifteen phones fell to the ground. The president was dead.

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"Claiebourne residence!" A cheery voice spat into the phone.

"Hi! Stef, it's Zackary...Mooneyham. I need to pick up Oliver, something's happened and he needs to come with me."

"Oh, deary! But the kids were having such a wonderful time!"

"Sorry, I'll be over soon!" Zack flipped his cell phone shut. Oliver was going to kill him.

.........................................................

"What's wrong dad?" Eric Jones asked his dad. Eric had never seen his dad on the verge of tears before. Eric went back to playing Halo.

"Turn that game off, I have to watch the news," Frederick Jones said, softly.

"I'm almost done with the level dad, one sec," Eric replied, not looking up.

"I need to see the news," Freddy said, his voice gaining momentum.

"One sec!" Eric said, annoyed.

"TURN THE FUCKING X-BOX OFF AND TURN THE GOD DAMN NEWS ON! NOW!" Freddy yelled. A long silence filled the room. Eric's character died. Slowly, Eric shut off the X-Box and turned the TV onto CNN. A video clip of a bullet flying into a women's chest dominated the news. Freddy stared in horror. Eric went upstairs to tell his sister, Veronica about the blow up.

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"No, I'm sorry but we only have one dressing room. What? No! We're only a club, what do you think this is the Woodlands Pavillion? The Meridian only has one dressing room! I don't care how "big" Coldplay is, we're not building another dressing room for them! Yeah? Really? Well tell Coldplay to go be corporate sellouts for all I care! Bug off! AH!" Dewey Finn growled and through the phone down. He looked around his small office at Houston's most up and coming nightclub: The Meridian. As talent coordinator, Dewey was in charge of booking bands; he wasn't doing that great a job. The phone rang again, Hesitantly, Dewey picked it up.

"Yello," Dewey said, unenthusiastically.

"Mr. Finn?"

"Oui,"

"I'm Summer Hathaway's husband, turn on the TV,"

Dewey did and immediately wished he hadn't. A small tear trickled down his cheek and the image of the lifeless body of a woman haunted his brain. Dewey shut off the TV only to find that the man had been talking the whole time.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dewey said, fighting back the tears.

"Please come to the Hamptons right away, thank you," The man hung up. Dewey coughed a little and placed his head on his desk.

There are Presidents who aren't worth a lot,

There's the kind who get elected the forgot,

Mr. Garfield-

Mr. Lincoln-

-He's a hack.

Bill McKinley-

-He's a giant.

-He's a joke.

But you'll remember him forever, because the presidents been shot.

Yet, something just broke.

-Assassins, Something Just Broke

xX... sort of a weird chapter...but...yeah! ...xX