A/N: Yeah, so I know it says that I was never going to update this again, but I had originally intended for it to have six parts anyway. I just couldn't think of another female to write about. Which is funny because I've never disliked Iris. She pissed me off a couple times and her voice was grating but I didn't hate her. And I wrote this a long time ago, but I always thought it was unfinished. Well, I've decided to leave it as it is and post it and now I swear that I'll never update this story, collection of shorts, whatever it is, again. Really. Honest. Alexandri

Iris knew her mother loved her, but at times like this, she seriously doubted that knowledge. With a sigh and a look of grim determination, she entered Skylight Books, hoping that Fate liked her a little bit.

It didn't.

Joan and Adam sat on the bench under the large tree growing in the middle of the deserted store. Their heads were close together as Adam pointed out something to Joan in the oversize art book they were looking at. His arm hung loosely around her waist.

Stifling a sigh, Iris cleared her throat. Joan's head snapped up and, seeing Iris, just barely managed to hide her distaste. "I need to pick up some books that are on hold," she announced before Joan could say anything.

Joan reluctantly stood and went behind the counter. She bent to study the names of the holds then frowned. "What's the last name?"

Iris had thought that Joan couldn't hurt her anymore than she already had, but again she was wrong. Somehow the fact that Joan couldn't even remember her last name was just one more hurt in a multitude of hurts. "Thornton," she said softly.

After a quick, then a thorough, look at the holds, Joan looked distrustfully at Iris. "There's nothing here under Thornton."

Ignoring Joan's suspicion and Adam's uncertainty coming at her from behind, Iris said, "Maybe they're under Laura."

With a barely contained sigh, Joan looked through the names one more time. "Not here," Joan said as she straightened.

"Oh. Well, I'll go look for them," Iris said turning away.

"If you give me the titles, I'll . . ."

"I got it," Iris said quickly. "Thanks." She hurried off into the stacks without looking at either of them, needing to get away from the weight of their stares. Finding the books didn't take long but she couldn't make herself go back to the register. Seeing them together didn't bother her much anymore. Neither bothered to hide their relationship nor should they. Their apparent happiness didn't make her pause. It was the feeling like she'd somehow failed that made the idea of facing them so difficult.

When she'd transferred to Arcadia High after the divorce and the trial that had sent her father to prison, Iris had looked forward to the move, welcomed it even. It was a chance for her to start over. She wouldn't have to shy away from friendships because it was too painful or time-consuming to explain away her countless bruises. She wouldn't have to be afraid or ashamed to have said friends over since her father would no longer be coming home in a rage. For the first time since she was twelve, she'd felt free as if the universe had given her the gift of her childhood back.

But having her "childhood" back hadn't meant that things would be easy. Shortly after she'd gotten to the school, she'd realized that she didn't fit in. While she hadn't expected to become a part of the popular crowd, she had expected to find friends among the less mainstream students. She'd quickly discovered that her love of French cinema and her throwback slang, the result of years of having her quietly eccentric mother as her sole companion, were not shared by any of her fellow classmates. She was as bizarre to these kids as she had been to the kids at her old school. So she'd chosen to direct her energies into volunteering.

Then she'd noticed Adam in her art class and had immediately fallen into the excruciating abyss of an unrequited crush. She'd known it was hopeless from the beginning, and not just because of her weird likes. He was so quiet, plainly in his own world, content to make his art, unconcerned with what the rest of the world thought about it. His confidence in his talent, unspoken yet firm just the same, had spoken to a part of her that longed to be that sure of anything. It hadn't hurt that he was also really cute with his shy smile and dark, wavy hair that he hid far too often under his beanies. As depressing as she'd found her hopeless crush, it had made her feel normal for the first time ever.

The moment in the hall when he'd looked at her and recognized her completely floored her. When he'd asked her to go to The White Stripes concert with him, her heart did a little dance in her chest. When he'd smiled at her and held her hand afterwards, she'd been certain she was dreaming. This incredibly sweet, cute, talented boy could not possibly like her. Then he'd kissed her and she'd decided that, even if it was a dream, she never wanted it to end.

But it did end with a nightmare finish. Even though she'd been the one to walk away, Adam had never really been there in the first place. He'd been coasting with her, filling his time with her to ease the pain of Joan's indecision. He'd used her. She knew that Adam genuinely liked her, but that had been nothing compared to his feelings for Joan. In her quest to be and feel normal, she'd willfully ignored her intuition and made a fool of herself in the process. She'd let him use her.

Now she was hiding out in a bookstore, tears coursing down her face because the simple fact of facing her ruined fantasy yet again without the buffer of school was more than she could handle at the moment. Leaving the books on the shelf, she went to the restroom at the back of the store. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry. Why did she look so tired? she wondered as she stared at her reflection. Maybe because she still felt broken. Almost three years had passed since her father had been put away and she still felt broken.

Knowing she'd cry if she gave free reign to her current thoughts, Iris pushed her thoughts aside and left the restroom. She gathered the books and headed for the register. Adam and Joan had resumed their positions but they were stiff now, awkward like they were waiting for her to show up and throw a wrench in their happiness. The sorrow and bitterness she tried to keep in check welled up in her heart. She was the injured party here. They'd gotten what they wanted. They didn't get to feel apprehensive or uncomfortable.

Tamping down her irritation, she cleared her throat again and went to the register. "I found them."