Author's Note: Aww... Spaztic didn't review... But happily, others did, so I didn't give up the story completely. This chapter centers around Jimmy-poo... He was sort of difficult for me to write for; I suppose that he has so many feelings going about in his head I never really am sure how he's going to react to certain things... But I think I did an okay job... if it doesn't look awkward when i movie-fy it in my head (that is, I actually watch them act out the scene before I write it down), then it's not bad... I guess. Thank you all for reviewing! And no one, I repeat, no one is weird for thinking that Jim is hot. READ AND REVIEW!

"James Pleiades Hawkins, where do you think you're going?"

Jim stood silent, his hand stopping above the brass of his front door's knob, pausing at the sudden and familiar tones of his mother Sarah's voice. Though he could not see her, Jim could imagine easily how she looked, well-accustomed to such reactions on her behalf. She was probably standing behind him, with her hands planted determinedly on her hips, her mouth turned upside down into an unhappy frown. Jim knew that she was waiting for an answer, something that the fifteen-year-old boy wasn't sure he wanted to give.

"It's a little early to be going out with your skateboard don't you think?" Sarah continued. "You know they don't permit those at your school."

Jim remained quiet, the fingers of his left hand making a tighter, almost protective hold on the beat-up old skateboard that he had tucked under his arm. It was indeed early, the hands on their wall clock barely hanging past six o' clock, and the sun had yet to begin its rise. But, Jim was used to this time, long-accustomed to waking up much earlier than that, but he said nothing to his mother about it.

"Yeah, whatever," he replied at last, his voice ringing with the same defiant note that it had developed over the years. He heard a heavy sigh from behind, his mother probably unhappy at the uncouth response, followed by a soft, padded noise, Sarah most likely taking a step toward him.

"Jim, where were you going?" she asked again, her voice closer, the weary but dogged nature further revealing itself. "Your suspension ends today, you know," she reminded him. "You should be going back to school."

The teenager let out a sigh at the thought, an unhappy expression further darkening his face.

"Great," he mumbled sarcastically. She had remembered about school. He had expected her to, but he had hoped that that day would present a better opportunity for the young man to once again sneak away from it all. It had worked out easily before. Wake up early, sneak out, mom would think he was at school, no problems to deal with until the phone calls began. He hadn't expected her to actually try and catch him in the act, but apparently he had underestimated his own mother.

"Jim?" Sarah said, her tired, motherly voice cutting through the thick silence that had followed Jim's muttered word. Jim shook his head, running a hand through his thick brown hair. He would have to face her sooner or later; Sarah would never let him ignore her.

"Mom, I—" he began, turning from the door, an excuse forming quickly in his mind.

"Wait," Sarah interrupted, putting up an ordering hand to halt her son's speech.

Jim let out another sigh, inwardly shaking his head at his mother's shushing of the answer that she had been waiting for. Annoyance took his eyes, which rolled secretively behind the veil of his brown hair, and he looked away from his mother for a moment, wondering whether or not it would be possible for him to sneak away after this.

"If you're going to lie to me about," Sarah began, returning Jim's attention to her words, "I want you to make it a good lie."

Jim let out an exasperated groan, and he glared at her unhappily. "Mom," he snapped irritably. "Look—"

"I want you to tell me something that would make sense," Sarah continued, ignoring Jim's starting words, "not something that I want to hear, like 'I'm going to school' or something like that, okay?"

Jim scowled at her openly, almost baring his teeth. "What makes you think that I'm not going to?" he questioned her indignantly, though a strong and almost uncanny truth rung in every word that she had spoken. "Like you said," he added bitterly, "my suspension ends today!"

"Do you really want me to tell you why, Jim?" Sarah asked angrily, her irritation seeming to grow at her son's impolite tone. "I'll tell you why! Because, the reason that you were suspended in the first place is because you ditched class every other day! If I remember correctly, you disappeared around this time since the beginning of the year, and here I was thinking that you were just going to school a little early!" Sarah let out an ironic laugh. "Can you believe how stupid I was?"

Jim's eyes widened at Sarah's words, and a strong sensation of guilt suddenly began seeping into his previously self-based thoughts. He had never before heard his mother talk herself down like that, never even once in sarcasm, and now, to hear her rambling on in such a way…

"Mom," Jim began, shaking his head.

"How are you expecting me to believe that you are actually going to go back to school after you've been banned once?" Sarah asked him vehemently, an intense emotion straining her already worn voice. "Do you want me to look stupid again?"

"Mom," Jim began suddenly, outraged and hurt by the accusation, "that's not it!"

Sarah shook her head, letting out a sigh, familiar in its weariness. "Jim, please," she said, presenting him with another interjecting palm. "Just tell me. Where are you going?"

"I'm—" Jim opened his mouth, a ready-made answer just about to reply to her question. He closed it quickly, thinking against it. Letting out a tired sigh, he leaned his skateboard against the wall beside the door, and looked at Sarah in the eye steadfastly. "Mom," he began, "I'm going to school."

A disbelieving sough greeted his words. "Jim," Sarah started, sending him a disappointed look.

Jim moaned unhappily, his hands clutching in frustration, his grim frown deepening in further gloom.

"Look mom," he cried, "why can't you just trust me on this?"

"Because, I know you just enough to understand that I can't depend on you to do that!" she exclaimed.

Jim felt his heart almost stop at the reply, the obvious truthfulness in its tone striking him momentarily mute. A feeling of deep hurt began to tighten his chest, and he felt a thick stickiness starting to overpower his throat. "So," he said slowly, working hard past the difficulty that was slowly conquering his voice, "you don't trust me, is that what you're saying?"

Sarah stopped at the question, apparently startled by the tone in which it was asked. Jim sent her a long and demanding look, his eyes never straying for a second away from her own. Finally, Sarah spoke, confusion apparent in her tone.

"Jim, I just don't know anymore," she said candidly, looking down at the floor, away from his questioning eyes. "Not with you."

Jim stood there quietly, his attention still planted sternly on his mother's invisible eyes, the meaning of her final weary words slowly sinking into his mind. Guilt, before then half-hidden beneath the ruse of anger and annoyance, slowly surfaced, and the wet film of tears took Jim's blue eyes. He turned from his mother, his back falling into its familiar, melancholy slump, and he once again lifted his hand to the door knob.

"I'm going to school," he told her shortly, staring disconsolately at the brass of the old handle.

He heard his mother repeat his name yet again, and the remorse that he had felt beforehand was once again overwhelmed by teenage spite.

"I'm going to school!" he repeated, turning round once more to scream these words at her before brusquely returning to the door, wrenching it open, and stepping out into the biting cold that awaited him outside. Without closing the entrance behind him, Jim pulled the collar of his black jacket about his face, and, tucking his hands deep into his pockets, he made his way down the snow-covered walk as his mother watched him, speechless, from inside.

Sarah regarded her son as he trudged through the snow, whose fall had stopped but hours before, until he disappeared, turning behind a block of houses nearly identical to their own. She looked out at the new, gray morning for a long while, even past her son's departure, until finally, with another heavy sigh, she closed the door and went to the kitchen for a well-deserved cup of coffee.

It was too early for Jim to go gallivanting back into Sindey High, though it was undeniable how far a distance he had to go. SHS was just within the limits of the nearby city; Jim and his mother lived in the neighboring suburbs, in a block of familiar houses that lined the curves of the typical cul-de-sac. Though buses were provided for those who lived that much of a distance from the school, Jim had preferred walking to this choice on the days that he had, for some reason or another, decided to attend his classes. He never had fancied the crowded, pungent qualities of the old yellow school buses, and besides, freedom seemed to be a quality that he treasured above the rest.

Jim's usual route followed along the main street of his neighborhood, then, when he met the highway, along the railed banks of Roy Lake. It was a large body of water, which formed a natural barrier between the major part of Sindey City and its surrounding towns. Before long, Jim would come to the Walter Walk, which consisted mostly of a large system of boardwalks that spread around a good portion of Roy's shore, and even a nice ways over the lake itself. It was like a suspended Carnival area, covered in food and game stands, which were long since deserted at the moment. The last that they had been used was at the beginning of January, when their town had, for the first time, adopted a festival that had been abandoned by the rest of the world. When they would next be used, Jim knew well was coming up soon, in perhaps, less than a month. Sindey would be celebrating their new mayor.

There was, though, a portion of the walk that had not been vacated. It was a pretty restaurant that stood just beside the lake. Usually used for formal eating, it seemed strangely out of place amongst the more casual eating stands that stood just yards away from its entrance. And yet, it had good business, drawing both people from the suburbs and the city almost year round. Jim had never been inside; he and his mother could not afford to eat there, no matter how hard Sarah dreamed. Jim had once promised her that he would take her there someday, but that kind and hopeful pledge was forgotten beneath the painful feelings that the teenager now harbored because of her.

Jim found himself once again at the entrance to Walter Walk, leaning against two aging posts that supported a curved and chipping sign that declared the place's identity. He had been planning to go here in the first place; but now, he knew that he would not be staying here for the long time that he had been hoping. No matter how angry or hurt he felt, he would have to go to school after that unsightly scene he had with his mother. It would be against the pride that he had within.

"Hey, Jim!"

Jim turned to the familiar voice and saw, with a small smile taking his once gloomy countenance, a dark-skinned figure jogging down the small sidewalk that lined the bank.

"Hey, Al!" Jim greeted his friend, pushing off the upright and raising a hand in salutation. Aladdin returned the gesture with a wave, and arrived swiftly before his friend, panting for breath.

"Thought you'd be here again," the young Arabian said, smiling widely at Jim. "You've got to be a little bit more creative with your hiding spots, Jim," he added in a cheery but serious voice. "You never know when the truancy police might catch you."

"You never said that before," Jim said. "What, did Razoul actually catch you this time?"

"No," Al said with a shrug. "But he almost did, Jim. Almost. And, isn't that a good enough excuse?"

"It doesn't matter anway," Jim said, letting out a sigh that drifted upward in a white fog. "I'm not ditching today."

"Whoa, really?" Aladdin asked, apparently surprised by the news. "Why? What made you change your mind?"

"My mom," he replied bluntly, his frown deepening at the thought.

"Oh, I get it," Al said, nodding his head. "Wow. Jim Hawkins, actually going to school. Who'd have thunk it?"

"Yeah," Jim began, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "Maybe Aladdin Azhadani might actually think of coming along too."

"No way, man," Al said, laughing and shaking his head. "You're not dragging me back to that hell hole. Besides, I'm a senior. I'm allowed to ditch sometimes."

"You've got a long ways until Senior Ditch Day," Jim told him. "Anyway, come on, Al, please? For emotional support or something."

Aladdin only laughed. "You know, Jim, I think that you are way past the emotional support thing."

Jim cast him an indignant look.

"Come on, you've got nothing to worry about," Al reassured him, patting the kid on the back friendlily. "You might get yelled at a little, and I'm not even going to start on the make up work, but we've all got to deal with it sometime. Why not now?"

Jim shook his head, looking out at the towering high-rises that formed the nearby city.

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Jim pushed hesitantly against the metal bar of the hall's front doors, staring through the cross-hatched window at the bustling passage as students hurried along, grabbing books from lockers and rushing haphazardly to get to their first period class. The first bell had rung a moment before; Jim had arrived just in time to hear its melodic peal from the quad. That meant that he had about five minutes to get all his things before having to rush to Room 11 for English 2 with Mr. Doppler. Though he could've made it to SHS in good time from the Walter Walk, he had been too engrossed with one Aladdin Azhadani and a supposedly epic snowball fight to consider the time, not forgetting the reluctance he had to actually going to class that day.

Jim entered the hall after a tentative second, trudging along in his patented Hawkins walk, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets, his back in a slouch, his head tucked halfway beneath the edge of his gray collar.

Jim ignored the suspicious whispers that floated about him as he walked toward his locker, several of his fellow students stopping their rushed journeys to gossip and stare.

"—back from juvy—"

"—yelling at his house early in the morning—"

"—animal abuse—"

Jim scoffed the small snippets, glancing at those who muttered audibly almost threateningly, causing a large group of them to scatter off to their classes. The whispers followed him all the way to the green locker that housed his textbooks, which were in almost mint condition, and lingered for a while before finally dispersing. Jim stood there for a small moment, listening contently to the lack of rumor, until, letting out a tired sigh, he unlocked his closet and lifted the latch.

Just as he opened the creaking, metal door, a tactlessly loud voice sounded behind him.

"Aw, shut up, Tant," he heard someone bark. The voice was that of a female, though somewhat rough and boyish. Jim recognized it almost immediately: Terk… something of a tomboy with a Mohawk.

"But really," Tant said, his voice worried and on the verge of stuttering. "Have you gotten a look at the guy? How he walks? It's not normal, I tell you! There's something wrong with him…"

Terk snorted mockingly. "You guys think too much on appearances."

Jim felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a pleasantly surprised smile. It was the first time that he had heard someone talking behind his back say something like that. But the happiness was short lived.

"It's all for show," he heard Terk continue, her words full of irritation. "Thinks that being a bad boy'll get him all the girls."

Jim reached for a book, clutching the spine with a silent indignation. She was wrong. Completely wrong.

"But," Tant began, pausing for a short while, probably staring at the boy who stood almost motionless at his locker, "he doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Then it's not working," Terk said brusquely, following up with a scornful laugh.

"Why doesn't he stop, then?" Tant asked unsurely. Jim listened closely, though he hated what the smart-mouthed young woman was saying, pulling the primer out minutely to stifle any suspicions that the two would have that he listened.

"He probably thinks if he keeps at it enough then, you know, something'll happen." Jim heard another one of Terk's snorts. "What a dumba—"

"Oh gosh, we're gonna be late for class!" Tant's hurried voice interjected the young woman's sentence. "Come on! You don't want Mr. Phil to be mad at us do you? We'll have to run extra laps!"

"Ah, I can run the laps," Terk told him, but Jim heard the pad of her sneakers as she made her way down the hall. Soon, their voices disappeared, as well as their footsteps, but Jim still stood, unmoving before his open locker.

Nobody understood what was going through his mind, what he had experienced that had molded him into what he was then. Nobody at SHS knew, except, maybe the Doc, but he was an old family friend, so he only understood the goings on at a distant view point. Doppler only knew what Sarah had told him… anything that Jim felt, he kept to himself. He trusted no one with his secrets, his pain, the uselessness that his father had left with him… and he didn't feel like he needed to trust anyone with them anyway. He'd lived through it so far; he was doing just fine… He didn't want people to sympathize with him, he didn't anyone want to pity him. He just wanted them to leave him alone.

Finally, Jim pulled the textbook out of its spot on the bottom shelf, and, with a prodigious yell, he slammed his locker shut, the door shuddering from the force but stuck tight by the latch.

"School property, Mr. Hawkins," a voice muttered just beside him. "Be more careful."

Jim jumped at the words, half-expecting a professor standing to the side with a detention slip ready. The voice laughed at the reaction, a pleasant and familiar sound, and Jim, without even turning, let out a laugh of his own, putting his head against the locker in a relieved way.

"Nani," he muttered, smiling genuinely for the first time since he had entered the school building.

"Nice to see you too, Jim," the Hawaiian woman said, grinning at her friend, leaning smugly against the adjacent locker. "I almost thought you were expelled or something."

"Starting to believe those rumors, are you, Nani?" Jim asked, pushing off of his locker door. He tucked the book beneath his armpit, starting his walk toward Doppler's classroom.

"Nah," Nani replied, shaking her head. She followed at his side, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I knew you were suspended."

"What? Oh," Jim said with a comprehending nod. "Al told you, didn't he?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the woman replied. "Al told Jasmine, who then told me, so technically…"

"So, technically Al told you," Jim finished for her, smiling.

Nani just shrugged.

"So, Jimmy," she said, her voice becoming strangely serious. "What did you do now?"

"Nothing," Jim replied, looking down at his feet as they shuffled across the tiled floor.

"Liar," Nani said, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Come on, Doppler's class."

Second chapter is done! Now, I was going to center the third chapter on Casey completely, but there's a small bit more of Jim's story that I'd like to insert before it starts on the little ten-year-old boy. I hope that he still has the same depression as dear Quasimodo, even in the change of age... ah well. He has a lot to deal with at his age. The same with Jim. If only I knew everything that was going on in his head... I could've written more thoughts... I like going deep into characters, but sometimes it's hard. READ AND REVIEW!