My best friend. He was sixteen, and he was my savior.

He was my best friend, and he was in the car.

"Hey, Kimmy! Need a ride?" He said, getting out and shutting the car door as he walked around to the side where I was laying on the ground (I had fallen off the bench sometime in the three hours I was asleep).

He was on Mike's hockey team. As I may have mentioned before, the only member of the family that didn't hate me was Mike, and with Mike came his hockey team. (Oh no. Can't separate the hockey team. Uh-uh.) Trust Mike to call a member of the hockey team. Also trust Mike to call the only member of the hockey team (the one I knew best, that I had to give him credit for) who wouldn't kill him if he was A: jerked awake at 5 AM, and B: willing to catch on quick enough at 5 AM to offer me a ride and some help to wherever I needed to go. Complicated history here, so let me start from the beginning.

My best friend. He was sixteen, and-- NOT THAT BEGINNING!

There are six people besides Mike on the Evanston League Hockey Team #2 (only open to ages 14-17). I had only grown close to one of them, even though I hung out with them all the time-- don't get me wrong, I mean, I knew all their names. That's got to count for something, right? Mike was only 14 and a few months, but you had to hand it to him, he had connections. To my best friend, and the one that saved me that night, Alex Carrington. He really was the only friend I still had. What friends I had had before the accident were Jessica's friends now. Not mine. So when I heard Alex say "Hey, Kimmy," I knew things were going to be all right in the end. Alex was the only one who called me Kimmy.

"Alex! What are you doing here?" I said, obviously surprised.

"Mike called." See? Trust Mike to call someone at 5 AM. That's Mike for you.

"Oh, no. Did he wake you up?" I asked, knowing full well what the answer was..

"Yeah, kind of. What are you doing here?" He said, pulling me up off the ground.

"Um." I started, stalling. "I ran away." I knew he wouldn't be pleased with me. Alex never was. He didn't like to see me disobey, but that was one of the qualities that made him such a good friend. It kept me out of trouble most of the time.

Most of the time.

"Kimmy..."

"Well, what would you do if your whole family hated you and they blame you for your father's death, and you only have one friend, and the only sibling that does like you foiled your plans while getting his allergy medicine from the bathroom at 1 AM, and so you have to go to the nearest bus station and stay there waiting, waiting, not knowing what--" I stopped, and hung my head. "Yeah... I ran away." I finished quietly. As he started to open his mouth, I added, "And I'm not sorry."

He sighed. "Just get in the car, I know you need help."

"Do you have a pen?"

He just looked at me, but pulled out a pen, all the same, and handed it to me.

I walked quickly back towards my house. He followed, thinking I was going to write a note and then scram. I went over to the area below the still open window of the downstairs bathroom. Alex still had his own thoughts about what I was going to do, but I had different plans. He lifted me up so I could get in the window. I looked around, and saw what I was looking for.

Mike's allergy medicine.

I scribbled my name on it, in big, scrawling letters that no one, not even Gunner could miss. The bottle was heavy enough, still mostly full. I climbed back out the window, making the same kind of exit as I had before, but stood up, unhurt, and brushed myself off. I started to walk back across the street, and stopped so I was at a good distance. I took the arm with the bottle of pills in it, and pulled it back.

A/N: CLIFFHANGER! I'm good at those. By the way, I know I'm introducing one character too many, I suppose. But I got a PM earlier today from bassguitarrox (THANK YOU!) giving me ideas. Alex is based on my best friend, who isn't sixteen, but almost fourteen. I love that guy.