Author's Note: A lot has happened in my personal life, lately. Crazy deadlines at work. Bleeding eyeballs on geriatric felines. I'm sick, and for whatever reason, I have terrible back pain. I'm not really sure how I got through the last two weeks, but here I am. If the chapter doesn't read quite as they normally do, I suppose that's my excuse XD

This chapter is… all over the place. Got some Hana, got some Amy, got some Shauna. Hope you dig it!

Also, got another warning for difficult situations and general wrangling of heart strings near the end of this update.

Hana belongs to Aveza, and her opinion on ballerinas judging each other was lovingly lifted from… Uh, I think it was the later chapters of The Center of Everything, but don't quote me on that.

Time is Money

The classrooms and practice areas for the dancing students were on the other side of the performing arts center. Normally, Hana would be using a free hour between classes to practice at the barre, but she just couldn't focus today.

The competitiveness of ballet really got to her, sometimes. And studying at a liberal arts school was a far cry from the schools devoted solely to the art, although she did have regular access to those more advanced classes, as well. But she had felt the eyes of her fellow students on her practice performance today, burning into her skin like lasers, searching for weakness, for hesitation, for error.

Hana wanted to tell herself that she was being crazy, that it was just college stress getting to her, but she knew that all of her peers were judging her, trying to weigh their own chances of success against hers. After all, she did it, too.

Maybe that's why her tiny feet were taking her to the music area. She liked to stroll down the hallway containing tiny practice rooms. There was no way to know what you might hear: singing, excellent and poor, tubas, pianos, violins, bassoons, all mixing together into a merry cacophony. Sometimes, she would peek through the windows in each door for a quick glimpse of another soul working for their art, bent over sheet music or lost in the sounds they were producing. It helped her feel a little less crazy for doing what she did.

Hana reached the far end of the hall and was about to turn around when she heard something that froze her in place. A sweet, high voice was coming from the room on the left corner, forming a simple, upbeat melody. A lovely sound, certainly, but what caught her attention was the act of her native tongue being brutally slaughtered. Shuddering, she advanced on the room and stood on her toes for a look through the window.

The singer was seated at the piano, her posture carefully erect and open. All Hana could see from this angle was a length of straight brown hair. She almost left, knowing that bursting into the room would be a bit... much. The singer completely mauled another word, and Hana winced. Her hand fell on the doorknob by chance, then twisted it by design. It didn't budge, and Hana recalled that you had to swipe your ID as proof of belonging to the music department to use the rooms, just as the dancers did to use their rooms.

The girl stopped singing and bent over her sheet music, sighing loudly enough for Hana to hear. She turned towards her backpack, and, as she searched for something inside of it, Hana caught a glimpse of her face. I know her! she realized, but she couldn't quite place from where. But that recognition, coupled with the fact that the girl was opening a primer on the French language, was enough to make Hana proactive.

She knocked on the door, and the girl looked up, turning big brown eyes in her direction. An automatic smile creased her face, a polite little twitch, but Hana could read uncertainty in the way her shoulders set as she stood.

The girl went to the door and opened it, and Hana found herself tipping her head back to look at her. She was way taller than her, but that wasn't exactly foreign for Hana. "Uh, hi? Tiny Dancer. What are you doing in the music department? Do you need a practice room for something?"

Tiny Dancer? Oh, it's that girl! "Hana," she replied stiffly. "It's Hana. What was your name, again?" It annoyed Hana that this girl couldn't remember her name, despite the fact that Hana had no memory of hers. Or maybe it was just the weird nickname that she was reacting to.

"Right," the girl replied, closing her eyes. Hana watched her lips move through a few silent repetitions of her name, trying to withhold comment. Finally, the singer straightened and regarded her again. "I'm Amy. Is there something you needed?"

"No," Hana said, tipping her head, "but there's something you need. French lessons. Stat."

Amy's hands flew to the door frame, closing around it. She blinked at her a few times, then nodded slowly, as if to allow the point. "Ah. Yes. Well." Amy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then sighed. "Yeah. Well, I don't speak a word of French, but I'm in this vocal class where we're supposed to learn the basic sounds of a bunch of languages, and so..." She tilted her body and waved into the room, as if to say, here I am.

"Gotcha." Honestly, Hana was a little surprised to hear such a normal explanation. She couldn't say why, but she had expected something more out there. Without realizing it, she began to weigh her options. Hana was a sociable sort, and was growing a bit antsy from doing nothing. I guess it wouldn't hurt to stick around, she told herself, glad for a chance to work withanother performing artist instead of against one.

"Need some help?" Hana asked, grinning. "I'm a native speaker. From Paris." She couldn't help but feel proud of that, and a trace of smugness snuck into her tone. Her posture straightened, and her face tilted up, displaying her smile to the other girl.

"Oh! Are you!" Amy said, pressing her palms together. "That is so cool! I was born here, like, within an hour from here." Rounded shoulders lifted and fell in a dismissive way. Perfectly banal, the gesture seemed to announce. Nothing to see here. "Anyway! It's a nice offer, I'm sure you have better things to do..."

"Don't worry about it," Hana said, pushing past Amy and into the small, square room. "I have almost an hour to kill before my next class." She plunked herself down on the piano bench, not bothering to wait for permission or acceptance, and picked up the sheet music. "Per Natale..." she read, running a thin finger over the score. "Hm. Never heard of it."

"Um..." Amy walked up to the bench, but didn't sit. "I don't know if it's famous. It's just on one of Hayley Westenra's CDs. She's a vocalist that I like. This is the only French song I know that isn't a Christmas carol or a lullaby."

Hana's hand jerked, smacking the keys of the piano, which shouted in discordant protest. "What?"she cried, her passions springing up in an instant. "Aren't you supposed to be a vocalist?" It incensed her that Amy wouldn't know more about the music she had grown up with.

Amy backed up a step and pressed her palms to her chest, as if she couldn't take Hana's sudden shift in mood. More keys clanged beneath her hands as they twitched, rendered antsy by Amy's sheepishness. "Well..." she began, taking another step back. "I mean, yes. I am. Or at least, I will be. I just mostly know Italian, Latin, Spanish, and Gaelic songs. I'm sure that if I learn how to pronounce French, I'll pick up more of those songs, too."

Hana sighed, then breathed in deeply. She wasn't going to be of much help to Amy if she kept putting her on the defensive. She focused her attention on the sheet music again and smacked the far side of the bench with an open palm. "Park it," she ordered. "We have a lot of work to do."

Amy moved closer, but made no move to sit. Hana tapped the bench again, and Amy tilted her head. "Uh... There's not enough room on the bench for two people."

"Oh, come on," Hana said, rolling her eyes. "Sit. I won't bite." The singer made a hesitant hedging sound, and Hana scanned her brain for some means of convincing her to put tush to bench sometime this year. "What if I bat my pretty green eyes at you?" she teased, remembering their first meeting.

Amy blinked, then smiled. "Well, I guess if you do that, I won't be able to help myself."

Hana fought not to react. Frankly, Amy was striking her as being stranger and stranger each second. She expected an embarrassed reaction, not something akin to playful flirting.

But Amy finally took her seat, and Hana shook her head and turned her attention to her task. She placed the sheet music between them and began to coach her through the lyrics, teasing her more and more with each ridiculous error.

Another Day

Amy half tripped into her dorm room, taking a few dangerous, unsteady steps before landing on her bed. Oof, she thought, stretching out on her stomach. Part of her wanted to just lay there and sleep, but her shoes were still on, and her backpack was pressing down on her, hindering the efforts of her lungs.

Groaning, she hauled herself into a sitting position and shrugged off the backpack. It landed on the comforter with a dull thud, weighing down the fabric with roughly $300 worth of textbooks. Her hands rose to her shoulders, trying to rub away the soreness there and in her back, but her clumsy motions eased nothing. I wonder if Izzy knows anything about giving a massage? The thought had Amy smiling, despite the pain in her body and the mushy state of her brain.

After four one hour lectures and one three hour lab, her neurons were ready to clock the hell out. Sadly, Amy was painfully aware that lectures were only the beginning point for a student. She had to complete some assignments, read the relevant passages in her textbooks, and go over today's notes before relaxing.

Her eyes went a little bleary as she stared at her desk, where she would be working for the rest of the late afternoon and early evening. Bones creaked as she stood, but she grimaced and kept moving until her butt was in her chair.

For a few dull, hazy moments, Amy didn't register anything out of the ordinary about her workspace. Slowly, her brain stumbled back into basic functioning, and she realized that there was a tiny, brightly-wrapped box in front of her. She looked around the empty room automatically, as if in search of someone who might have dropped it there.

Is this Sora's? she wondered, closing her hand around it. A rectangular tag fell over as she moved the box, and her name was neatly printed on it.

She stared, flummoxed, at the gift, wondering who might have left it, when, and why. The handwriting seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it, other than to know that this wasn't from Tai or Matt.

Well, it certainly seems to be for me, and there's only one way to figure this out. Amy removed the wrapping paper, fueled more with curiosity and confusion than excitement, then stared at the dark red box inside. The name of a jeweler was printed on top of the box, and now Amy really had no idea what was going on. The only jewelry she owned was a dolphin necklace and a few pairs of golden earrings, the only kind that didn't aggravate her skin. What was going on with this?

Her fingers drummed against the desk. Inexplicable nerves thrummed through her, making her want to pace, but she couldn't tear her herself away from her seat. The tension built, then broke through her tolerance point. She seized the box and lifted the lid in one swift motion.

It was something of a pity that no one heard her dramatic gasp. A ring was nestled between two cushions in the box, and two heart shaped amethysts winked up at her, reflecting afternoon sunlight into her face. They were set in a swirling silver band, inlaid with tiny diamonds.

Amy wouldn't have been more stunned if the box had contained a tiny man who slapped her in the face. This can't be mine, she thought, grabbing the tag again. It still obstinately read A-m-y, but, as she ran her fingers over it, she realized that the thick paper was folded over.

Her heart thud as she pulled back the front, revealing a short message:

Dear Amy,

I'm afraid this isn't nearly as valuable as your letter. I hope you'll accept it, regardless.

Yours,

Izzy

Her eyes roved over those two sentences at least ten times in rapid succession, but she still couldn't seem to absorb the message. She moved on to the closing, thinking she'd have more luck with a single word, but her beleaguered brain faltered all over those five letters.

Yours, she repeated to herself. Yours, yours, yours. It was a litany, endless, sure to draw some sort of celestial favor if repeated enough. Lungs seized, drawing in air, correcting the deficiency caused by lack of breathing. Heat washed over her, settling primarily in her cheeks.

She stood so suddenly that she fell onto the bed, which, conveniently, was where she had left her keyring. Her body bent over the bed's edge, and she retrieved her fireproof box and worked the lock. She gingerly lifted the note, allowing her eyes to linger over it for a few moments more. A fingertip ran slowly over the script, and then it was ferreted away between TK's journal and her expensive copy of Jane Erye, where it would be safe from tearing.

When the lock box was safety stowed away, Amy returned to her desk. A pale arm twitched violently when she saw the ring, and a giddy smile overtook her face. She had practically forgotten about the jewelry. She reached for it, but glanced about first, as if someone might object. After some stalling, she plucked it from the cushions and slid it onto her right ring finger. Her whole body relaxed when she found that it fit.

Amy stared at Izzy's gift for a moment, feeling somewhat dazzled and unsure of how to behave. What was expected here? Should she call him? Would most girls find a friend to gush to?

Shaking her head, Amy opened her backpack and pulled out a textbook. What she wanted to do was spend as much time as possible with her boyfriend this evening, so she had to get things done while he was holding office hours.

Despite her determination, roughly half an hour passed before her concentration solidified enough to rub away her smile.

Elsewhere

Shauna leaned against the concrete outer wall of an apartment complex and pulled out her cell phone. Her fingers flipped through her contact list, but she didn't make a call. This was the first fine day in months, the first stirring of spring, and the touch of the sun was like a caress. Her tan had faded a bit over the winter months, and she was anxious to reclaim that color. For a moment, she considered leaving, stripping down to the least amount of clothing she could legally wear, and finding a place to lay on a blanket.

But no, that was silly. It wouldn't be worth the time until the UV index rose, and time was money. Sighing, she highlighted Michael's name and hit send.

He answered on the first ring, overeager for her, as always. When would men learn that being too available was unattractive? Shauna swallowed a tsk and returned his greeting, injecting her voice with an enthusiasm she didn't feel. There were so many places she'd rather be than here, pressed up against a gray building separated from a busy road with nothing but cracked sidewalks.

Michael said he would buzz her in from his room, which was another mistake. When a girl rode a cramped, stale-smelling bus to visit a man, then he had best show up in person to lead her inside. Shauna's teeth clenched at the insult, at how carelessly she was being treated, but she filled her voice with the sweetest, darkest honey. "I'll be right up."

His breath caught in the receiver, and whatever parting words he meant to give were garbled. Shauna cut the call off, shaking her head all the while. This was just too easy, always so easy... Weren't men supposed to have pride?

She moved into the entry hall and smiled at the receptionist. There was really no need for Michael to buzz her in, as the old woman recognized her, and always had an answering smile ready. "Good afternoon, dear. You just go right on up."

"Thank you so much," Shauna replied, averting her eyes and smiling shyly. She had picked up a lot of these ingenue cues from Amy, and they worked wonders on people who might otherwise be offended by her appearance and the attention it garnered. She waggled her fingers at her after she had passed, as if looking the receptionist in the face was just too daring for her.

The elevator doors opened in front of her, and a young man came out, staring into his cell phone as he moved. He glanced up just in time to see Shauna's approach, startled, and backtracked, nearly falling over himself in his haste to press and hold the door open button. This time, Shauna's smile of thanks held no traces of the ingenue. The boy's return grin trembled, and his departure was marked with reluctance. Too easy, she repeated to herself, allowing her lips to dip down once the doors closed completely.

Soon, she was walking down Michael's hallway, fighting not to grimace. There weren't many nice places to live nearby the campus. Most students couldn't afford a luxury apartment, and the buildings catered to the needs of the average student. This building in particular might have been nice with some effort, but it was cold and impersonal, a conglomeration of identical, boxy rooms branching off of narrow, identical strips of hallways.

Shauna paused in front of Michael's door and took a deep breath, trying to manage her emotions. When he answered her knock, she was wearing a smile bearing traces of heat. Michael's long, twitchy fingers slipped out of his pants pockets. "Hey," he said, clearing his throat first. "Come in."

She blinked as she moved past him and into the room. The blinds were already closed, throwing the room into darkness and screaming Michael's expectations. Shauna was both miffed and relieved. At least they weren't playing at being a couple today, as he sometimes desired.

Time is money, she reminded herself as she backed him into the closed door. Her arms wound around his neck, and she kissed him, skipping past the sweet, soft stage and straight into a place of heat and need. He moaned, and his spindly fingers slid into the back pockets of her jeans, pushing her into him.

They didn't make it to his bedroom. Michael stripped her down right there, tossing her clothes on the floor, running his hands and lips over every bit of exposed skin. Shauna tried not to react when he began hopping about in an attempt to remove his tight pants, trampling on her designer jeans. He looked ridiculous, and she didn't appreciate the disregard for her property.

When he was finally naked, he took a seat on the couch, grinned at her, and patted his knees. She smiled as she went to him, spreading her legs over his lap. He kissed and stroked and caressed, the result of years of reminders and guidance. Shauna had no idea if it was stupidity, overeagerness, or selfishness that had made him such a slow study, but at least he didn't fumble and error so much these days.

The body below hers trembled, and Michael's hips bucked up, but froze midway. "Shauna," he gasped, pushing down on her. "Please- let me-"

And, for the first time since she got off the bus, she smiled and meant it. As much as she scorned men for it, she loved having this hold on them. Michael's watery, pale blue eyes were half mad with want of her, and it gave her a feeling of power and control that the world so rarely granted her. She let him writhe and moan and beg some more, relishing each sign of hysteria, allowing her own excitement to build. As much as he wanted her, he would never make that first move. It was understood and required that she had complete control over when and if sex would happen.

His head tilted back, and the muscles in his throat shifted and strained, pulling skin taut over his Adam's apple and jugular. The visual sent a flash of heat over Shauna's body, and she sank onto him, shuddering as her flesh parted against his. Her eyes shut, and she lost herself to the sensation, forgetting that she was working her hips over Michael's. For all of his faults, he was familiar and safe, affording her the luxury of allowing her mind to drift as her body took its pleasure.

Later

"Are you leaving already?"

She didn't pause at the sound of Michael's voice. As far as Shauna was concerned, 'already' was an inappropriate word, although their time together hadn't been entirely without its moments. Outwardly, she merely smiled apologetically and pulled her shirt back over her head, mussing her hair attractively.

"Rehearsal. You know how it is." She didn't have to be at the performing arts center for a few hours, but she did have some homework and reading to complete. Rehearsal was just a faster, foolproof explanation. Drama students practically lived in the mess of hallways, dressing rooms, and tiny practice areas behind the stages.

Michael sighed and reached for his jeans. "That's too bad…" She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't look at his face. Shauna had the sense that Michael wanted more from her, even though he often spoke against the idea of being in a relationship. He seemed to think it would tie him down, as if he was doing something important that he couldn't afford to be distracted from.

"I left some money for you," he said at last, his voice crisp and devoid of emotion. "For the bus."

"Thanks." This was their parting ritual, and Shauna went through it as usual, slipping into his bedroom as she finger-combed her hair. The money was always in the top drawer of his dresser.

There was a hundred dollar bill today, as well as a baggy filled with plant matter giving off a sweet, thick, sharp scent. Obviously, the bus back to campus didn't cost that much, but this was Michael's way of fulfilling his end of their arrangement without naming it. The moment he, or any of the other boys, labeled this sort of transaction for exactly what it was, she would never come back, and they all knew it.

Shauna grabbed both items, but hesitated before closing the drawer. There were only a few months left before she had to be entirely substance free. Perhaps it was better to cut the pot out now. And maybe Michael would leave her more cash if she stopped taking the drugs.

Sighing, she put the baggy back and pocketed the money, said goodbye to Michael, and returned to the bus stop.

Later

Shauna was relieved to find her dorm room empty. Her roommate was abrasive and hot tempered, but she spent almost all of her time at her boyfriend's apartment, so Shauna was alright with her.

Shauna carefully removed the Gucci sunglasses from her head, folded the earpieces, and stored them methodically in her closet. Her expensive purse was brushed off and gently placed on a lined shelf. She removed her wallet, then checked that all of the zippers on the bag were closed, shutting out the pests that also lived in the dorm.

She slipped the hundred out of her wallet and stretched it out, frowning down at it. The money was welcome, of course, but she never quite knew how to handle large bills. Shrugging, she sat it on her comforter, then knelt beside the bed, reaching for the lock box shoved far beneath it. Her fingers pulled the key from her pocket and worked the lock, then lifted the lid.

Two plain mason jars sat inside, identical save for the letter written on each. Shauna twisted off the lids and stared down at the money stored within. This wasn't all she had. Even with the lock box, Shauna was too paranoid to keep much cash in her dorm, but she also didn't have time to visit the bank daily. There was almost a grand between the two jars now, so it was time for another visit.

After a long period of consideration, Shauna dropped the hundred into the jar labeled S, removed three twenties, and placed them in the jar labeled C. She almost shut the lid and left it at that, but her fingers trailed around the open lips of the containers, and she didn't move.

She pulled her cell out of her pocket and checked the time. Would it be alright to call now? It was risky at this hour, but Shauna hadn't checked in for a few days, and she was antsy. Before she could talk herself out of it, Shauna flipped through her contacts and made the call. Each ring dug at her nerves, making her dread the possibility of being shunted off to voice mail. She was almost hissing by the time the call went through.

"Hi, Shauna!"

Shauna's eyes shut, and the tension slid out of her body. She climbed onto her bed and laid down, soothed by the cheerfulness in that voice.

"Hello, Claire Bear," she said, smiling at the ceiling. "Where are you?"

"I was making pie with Mrs. Cook, but she said I could take a break. I told her it was you calling, so she didn't mind."

"Lucky girl. Mrs. Cook makes the best apple pie." Shauna hadn't seen the old woman for a few months, but she could picture her face and voice clearly. She had spent a lot of time with her, making and eating treats whose taste was born from more than baking skill and fresh ingredients.

"I wish you could eat some with us," Claire said. Her high, sweet child's voice was wistful, but also held a slight touch of accusation that stabbed at Shauna's heart.

"I do, too." She swallowed hard, not knowing what else to do with the feelings pushing up from her chest. "How are things, baby girl? Does mom..." There was a slight pause as she hesitated. When it came to her mother, Shauna always had difficulty asking what she really wanted to, and she ended up deflecting to a safer question. "Has she found the cell phone I gave you yet?"

The girl blew a dismissive raspberry. "Nah. I keep it on the low vibrate, like you told me to."

"Good girl. And only I know the number, right? You didn't tell your friends?"

There was a sigh on the other end, and Shauna could easily visualize Claire's pout. "Only you know the number. But I want to be able to talk to my friends!"

"I know, Claire," she replied patiently. The argument was an old one, but Shauna understood it perfectly well. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she could have resisted the temptation to hand her phone number out as a child. "But mom might take the phone away if she finds it, and then I won't be able to reach you easily. The more calls you receive, the more likely she is to hear it."

There was a long silence, followed by a resigned sigh that didn't quite sound like a child's. "Yeah. Yeah. Or Dave."

Shauna's body jerked into an upright position, and her feeling of happiness and relief vanished in a second. "Who is Dave?" she asked, failing to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

"Mom's new boyfriend," Claire replied. There was suddenly a beating in Shauna's skull, the sound of her pulse in her head, making it difficult to understand Claire's hushed voice. The effort to concentrate and listen was almost painful. "I.. I don't like him."

Oh, God. Shauna transfered her phone to her other hand, then wiped the sweat from her palm.

"Sis?" Shauna and Claire were half siblings, but they never made that distinction. It didn't seem important, since neither of them knew their fathers.

"Y-Yeah. I'm here, baby girl." Stay calm, she reminded herself. Children are only as calm as the people they look up to. That reminder was all that kept her from freaking out.

"Umm... You said that, if someone mom brings home says or does anything I don't like..."

Shauna's innards froze over. "You can tell me anything," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. It would kill her if she heard that something bad had happened to Claire, but she had to know. How else could she help?

"Dave hasn't done anything bad," Claire said, the words tumbling out in a rush that sounded like gibberish, "but he brings the drugs, and, and, you know how that is-"

"I know." And she did. When their mother was high or drunk, she didn't cook or clean. She and Claire were smart enough to disappear when substances entered the picture, but finding food and clean clothes wasn't easy for a child. Shauna dipped her forehead into her palm and tried to concentrate. "Who have you visited this week?"

Her sister rattled off the names of safe families in their trailer park to spend time and eat with. "Good," Shauna murmured. "Remember, space your visits out. People will get suspicious or annoyed if you show up too often at the same place."

The faint sound of a stomping foot traveled over the phone. "Shaaaaaauna! You've said that a bajillion times!"

"And I'll say it a bajillion more, if it keeps you safe." The temper tantrum didn't bother her. Claire obeyed more than Shauna could have hoped, more than she would have in the same situation. She could easily allow her a chance to vent her frustrations, especially since she remembered having them, too.

There was a pause, a faint sigh, then the sound of shifting. Claire's voice went quiet and a little strained. "Shauna? Dave doesn't really talk to me, but... I don't... I don't like how he looks at me. It's like he wants to eat me, sometimes."

Like he wants to eat me… Shauna shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. It was a poor substitute for holding her sister. So, her mother still allowed leering men into her home. She probably doesn't notice. Would she care, if she did?

The bed creaked as she got up and began to pace. Words flowed from her mouth unbidden, the same advice that she gave herself as a child. "Get out when he's around. Use the window in your room. Best not to be seen at all."

She blinked and came to a halt. For a moment, she had slipped back in time, and it was so hard to remember that she was safe and on her own now. Her gaze fell out of the window, watching students file through the courtyard. Sometimes, it infuriated her how carefree they were. All they had to worry about was classes, getting booze and pot, and getting laid. Meanwhile, her baby sister was getting leered at…!

Shauna fought to control herself, then hesitated, knowing that Claire wouldn't like her next point. "If... If he ever tries to get you alone or give you drugs... Claire. You have to tell me, even if it means..."

"Don't call the social workers!" Claire begged, her breathing hitching. "Shauna, I don't want to go to a foster home. I want to live with you!"

Shauna took a deep breath and disconnected herself from her emotions, a skill she had learned long ago. Otherwise, she might start tearing up, and Claire needed her calm. "Don't worry. Just... remember everything I've taught you. Stay away when Dave is around. Lock your door and window at night. Don't let any one person see you in need too often. Spread out your visits and dinners with friends and the safe neighbors, and-"

"I know, sis."

"Good girl." Shauna forced the words up and out, like phlegm caught in her throat. "How are you on food and laundry supplies? Are you taking your vitamins?" It wasn't wise to keep nagging her sister, but what could she do? She was all Claire had, and she was only eight. Eight year olds could be forgetful, even when they knew what was at stake.

"Um, I'm running low on those meal bars. Do they... do they make any that taste better? Like the meal shakes?"

"I'll look into it." As much as Shauna wanted to send her sister treats, money was tight, and even when her mother did cook, the food was rarely nutritional. The food Shauna sent wasn't exactly palatable to a child, but it offered the vitamins and minerals that Claire wouldn't get otherwise.

There was another pause, and Shauna tried to steel herself for the question that would inevitably come next.

"When can I come live with you?"

Her glance moved to the money in the lock box. This was probably the hundredth time Claire had asked. She knew the answer, but Shauna was aware that hearing it helped her follow the strict rules that kept her safe and fed, so she answered as calmly and cheerfully as she could. "When this semester ends, and I can get an apartment. I have to live in a dorm this first year, but, starting next semester, the money for my room and board scholarship will come directly to me, and-" The words came to an abrupt pause as Shauna realized that they were nonsense to a child. "I'll have enough money in the summer," she summarized, giving her usual answer. I have to keep better control of myself. Claire has enough to worry about without getting caught up in my money concerns.

Shauna's hand twitched outward, as if to stroke her sister's hair. The future was far away and difficult to envision for a child, she knew. And, to complicate matters further, Shauna wasn't sure she could care for her sister, not in the way she needed. Her body lurched, as if with sudden fatigue. "But... you know, Claire. There's a school bus and a school for you here, but I'll be on campus a lot. You'll always have food and clean clothes, but I won't always be around when you're home, and you'll have to make new friends... Are you sure you don't want a foster home?" Saying each word was a separate torment, and Shauna was equally afraid of hearing both yes and no.

Claire's cry of yes was entirely expected. The home where they grew up was troubled and sometimes dangerous, but Claire had Shauna's rules to protect her, and they had a wide net of people to turn to already in place. But who knew what might happen in a brand new environment? After all, Shauna was having a hard enough time adjusting to college, and she still had contacts from high school, like Michael. It seemed that they each keenly felt the fear of losing their networks and being entirely on their own.

But still, even knowing that they relied on a certain amount of familiarity, and even knowing that her sister loved her, adored her, even, Shauna wasn't sure that this plan would be her best option.

Her sister's voice was suddenly too loud, as if the girl had shoved the phone into her cheek. "I'll be good, Shauna. I'll be so good. I can do laundry and clean. And I'll join a bunch of clubs so that you'll be home when I get home. I could stay in the library at school. And when I'm with you, I can call my old friends, right?"

Shauna's knees went weak, and she fell onto her bed. Her eyes began to burn, and she wiped at them. There was no telling if this plan would really work out, if Shauna could provide for both of them while she was in college, if she could function as a good surrogate mother. Would the money be there? How was she supposed to raise Claire and get money? One or the other she could handle, but both?

But she had to try. She didn't trust anyone else with Claire, and Claire wanted her. Her sister was probably the only person in the world who wanted her purely for who she was. She swallowed hard and willed her voice to be steady, but it still shook. "It won't be easy, Claire Bear. But we'll figure it out somehow."

"Yeah," Claire said, her voice bright and easy. A tiny smile pulled at Shauna's lips. It must be nice to be so oblivious and hopeful. "Oh! Mrs. Cook is calling me. Should I ask for more time?"

"No," Shauna replied gently. As much as she wanted to keep talking to her sister, she really needed to be alone for a while. "I'm sure she needs some help. Say hi to her for me, okay? And be sure to thank her."

"I will, I will. Bye bye. I love you."

"I love you, too."

The call cut off, and Shauna placed her phone on the bed. The lock box was still out, and she paused before shoving it back in place. Her hand dipped into the S jar, removing everything but the bare minimum she would need to get by for a few days. The rest was shoved into the C jar.

Then, the whole thing was carefully and reverently stored away.

Author's Note: There you have it. In case it wasn't clear, all of Shauna's nice things are gifts, mostly from boys. She doesn't spend money on stuff like that, hence her extreme care with all of her nice things.

I'm pretty iffy on this chapter. The biggest problem is that we've never seen this side of Shauna before, and it feels almost affrontingly foreign. Sadly, there's nothing I could really have done to prepare you guys for that without giving away the reasons for Shauna's desire for money and a solid support group. I tried to pass it off thus far as a need for popularity, attention, and being spoiled, but I fear I went too far in that direction. I'm entirely open to the possibility that this was a huge pile of fail.

Ah well, at least I learned from it. Actually, the whole conversation with Claire was meant as an exercise in flow of information and subtlety, but I'll leave the decision of how well I performed up to you XD

Oh by the way, Amy's ring is based on a real ring. I have a link to it on my tumblr, which you can access from my profile. The ring is actually under $150, despite having tiny diamonds in it. I just didn't want you guys to think that Izzy dropped a few grand on it or something, lol. It's a really pretty ring!