Spot relaxed into the tree. Feeling his nerves calm as the drug began to take affect. He couldn't believe this place. It was so out of his element, it even smelled weird. Everything smelled clean and fresh and full of life. He wasn't used to places that were clean. He closed his eyes, suddenly realizing he hadn't slept for two days, and was extremely tired. Spot hoped that maybe when he woke up it would all be a dream, or some sort of bad trip. He'd be back at the Simmon's, sleeping on their moldy smelling couch. Mr. Simmons would yell at him for skipping school and tell him he was on restriction, threatening they would call his social worker and have him taken away if he gave them any more trouble. Later that night he would sneak and get high, maybe hook-up with that girl he'd met at the skate park last weekend. Everything that had happened, the drugs, the dare, the boy, and the fire, the trial, the jail time, none of it would be true, it would all be a dream.

Spot had never been a hopeful kid. He had never been hopeful because he never seemed to get lucky. And this day proved to be just as unlucky as the rest of them. He woke up right back where he had fallen asleep. He heard a squealing noise, and the sound of a boy screaming in the distance. As he groggily opened his eyes he saw a large black blur run right in front of him. Following the black animal was the owner of the young voice. A little boy stumble over Spot's outstretched legs in an attempt to catch the animal. Before Spot even realized what was going on he grabbed the little boy's arm and stopped him from running off.

"What the hell are you doing?" croaked Spot, his voice still sleepy. The boy looked at him in terror, and started mumbling incoherently. It took Spot a moment to realize that he didn't even know the boy he was questioning. It had been a habit and a natural reaction. Spot had been treated like that when he was little, and that's how he had treated his little brothers and any other younger kids in his life. Where Spot came from, it was almost a kindness for the older children to bully and show dominance over the younger children. If they didn't, the younger generations wouldn't grow up tough enough.

Spot squinted his eyes against the sun as he stood up, loosening his grip on the ten-year-old boy.

"What are you chasing?" Spot asked, looking down at the boy with a questioning glare, after all, he was pretty pissed at the boy for disturbing his short lived sleep.

"Kirby. The pig, I left the door to his pen open on accident and," the boy looked over to where the pig was headed and his eyes opened wider then they already were. "Uh-oh" was all he said before tearing away from Spot and running through the tall grass. Spot looked and saw that a girl was painting a couple dozen yards away. He hadn't noticed her before, and the pig was headed straight for her, the little boy trying in vain to catch up with it. Spot laughed inwardly as the pig collided with the girl, sending her painting supplies everywhere. Spot decided to head towards the scene of destruction, partially because he was curious, and partially because the girl looked like she might be hot.

Upon reaching the scene the girl was screaming at the little boy, who looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh. The pig had ended its mad dash for freedom and was quietly basking in the sun. Snorting every once in awhile as it munched on some grass. The girl suddenly stopped her yelling when she noticed Spot and looked toward him with big brown eyes. She was covered comically in paint.

"You're the new kid, aren't you? Bristol Conlon?" She blurted out, before suddenly turning red and averting her eyes down toward the ground.

"Yeah, call me Spot." Spot answered offhandedly.

"You're a Conlon!" exclaimed the little boy in awe "Like, a REAL Conlon?"

"Yeah, I'm real," smirked Spot. This kid seemed to appreciate what his family had done for society.

"Are you gonna burn the house down?" The boy asked abruptly.

"Split!" Hissed the girl.

"What gives you a damn insane idea I'd do that?" Spot asked, absentmindedly chewing on the ring fixed to the right corner of his lower lip.

The little boy looked dumbfounded, and the girl looked nervous. There was an awkward silence. The boy, Split, he had been called, certainly could run fast. He had a mop of black hair and was little, even for a ten year old. The 15-year-old girl, who Spot would later learn was called Iodine, started to gather her paint supplies.

"We better get going," she supplied nervously, "get Kirby Split," She instructed, before turning and walking towards the huge building several yards away from them. He watched her walk away, her thin sandy hair falling onto her back. She was short and extremely skinny. Spot decided she wasn't as hot as he had first hoped. In fact, he thought she looked too young. But he liked the way she wouldn't look at him, it gave him an ego boost, knowing at least someone here was intimidated by him, unlike the cowboy had said.

Spot barely had enough time to pull out his lighter, preparing to light another cigarette, when a girl with soft brown hair walked up. She stood about 5'5" and didn't seem at all intimidated by Spot's presence.

"Your not allowed to smoke on the property, it causes cancer, your supposed to talk to Jeremiah about all your addictions to find a good reversal plan. He'll probably set up appointments with you soon. David probably told you all this, but I don't blame you if you weren't paying attention, he gets boring easily. I heard you punched a hole in the wall of the boy's cabin."

Spot stared at her, his mouth slightly open, cigarette box half open. He gave this strange girl a slight nod to answer her question, but lit the cigarette anyway.

"So," said the girl "Your names Bristol Conlon, but you go by Spot right?"

Spot nodded again, raising his eyebrows even further. He was surprised at how fast news seemed to travel in this place.

"Here, I'll show you around." She offered, "I don't think you got off to a good start with Davey"

"You mean the Walkin' Mouth?" Commented Spot

"Oh so you do talk!" She said, her sweet smile widening.

They had begun walking to the buildings that Iodine and Split had disappeared into moments before.

Spot stopped and looked her in the eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked, having no idea who he was talking to, and hating the lack of control.

He noticed a slight flinch within her facial features, 'that's more like it' he thought; loving the control he knew he possessed.

"Oh, um, Caitlynn Mixner." She said, squaring her broad shoulders and regaining composure. 'Another one of them' Spot thought, internally rolling his eyes, she looked younger than him, but not by too much.

"So what you gonna show me?" Spot asked skeptically.

"The gym, or, if you want to be technical, the 'Activities Complex'." She said simply before bouncing on.

As the name suggested the Activities Complex was the center of activity in this place. It was HUGE. The main entrance led into a full sized gym complete with basketball hoops and a volleyball court. Spot dully noticed that its only inhabitant was a short teenage girl sitting under one of the windows in a beam of sunlight, plugged into headphones, she didn't seem to notice them. Caitlynn showed him the door to the weight room, which was loaded with exercise machines. He couldn't even imagine how rich these Mixner people had to be. She led him through huge double doors to a room that was bursting with kids. It was a huge gymnastics center, including a large spring floor, a pit, and fifty million mats. There was also a dance floor surrounded by mirrors. Caitlynn seemed to notice how Spot shied away from all the people.

"Here, you'll meet everyone later, lets go back around and I'll show you the barn and the wood shop," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him quickly back through the way they had come.

Spot released his arm from her as quickly as possible. After she had completed the tour, he asked if he could go back to the cabin and sleep. She said of course. Upon reaching it he was relieved to find it empty. He sat down on his bed and once again rifled through his messenger bag. Spot had the strangest feeling inside him. He couldn't place a name to it, but he certainly didn't like it. He had felt it before. He had felt it the first night after Dax was arrested. Before that night Spot had never fallen asleep knowing that Dax wouldn't be home later that night, if he wasn't home already, nagging at Spot to get his little ass in bed. Spot almost felt like crying. He hadn't cried since that night, his first night in a foster home. Instead, he found a clean needle, inserted it into his syringe, and found the vile of clear liquid.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

I'll be back in September, I promise. Please don't forget about me, and don't think I've forgotten about you. I leave in like four hours! GAH, I'm really nervous, but excited! And yes, my sister and I made up, for all those of you who are wondering! THANKS FOR THE REVEIWS………………all your characters will be introduced in the next couple of chapters. I didn't have time tonight, I need to get some sleep, but I already started writing them into the story, don't worry.