Manic's POV:

I waited until I was absolutely sure Sonia was gone before I stopped holding my breath.

I've got to be more careful.

I have no idea what came over me just now; when Sonia started crying about her boyfriend… I knew how she felt. Exactly how she felt. The joys of being gifted. And I guess… I was trying to connect with her, somehow. I'm good at that.

But I almost gave it away.

The thing is that no one, no one, knows about my… people-reading thing. I really only started noticing it when I was nine or ten, and I'm not crazy enough to tell anyone about it, not even Curtis. I'd get tossed in the loony bin faster than a fat man chasing an ice cream truck. But I think I've learned to hide it pretty well over the years.

'Course, I always have the occasional slip up. Like just now- thank goodness I was able to think up the girlfriend thing (not that it was entirely untrue- I've pretty much lost count of how many failed relationships I've been in. All I know is that it's a lot). Hopefully sis doesn't suspect anything; I don't think I really want to tell her about it. Not yet, anyway.

But onto my mission: Acquire a van, preferably without breaking the law.

Needless to say, I was not enthusiastic.

Seriously, Sonia needed to get out more. If she spent one minute in a car garage, she'd know that three hundred bucks ain't even close to the amount I needed to buy a van, even a used one. It was sad, really. How could one just go through life being so… naive? I knew our old town didn't see much of the outside world, but this was pathetic.

At least it gave me an excuse to get back to the downtown area. I thought about heading back to the Striker's base, but decided against it; I really didn't want to have to say goodbye again.

So I went with the next best thing: Ben's Salvage Yard.

It's this auto parts yard on the edge of town. Ben's a real cool guy, always sells the Strikers parts for cheap. I figured he'd be okay with me poking around his place for a van. Besides, he owed me some favors.

I grabbed my knapsack and slung it over my shoulder, exiting through the fire escape rather than waste time with the elevator. I was about to head off downtown when something caught my eye. I took a closer look; If I wasn't mistaken… that was an Extreme Gear Board. How the heck was one of those babies lying around here?

Better question, why?

The only place I knew that sold those things was the black market. GUN's pretty tight with their technological secrets. Even just owning the blueprints to one can get you arrested.

Sweet.

Casually, and making sure I wasn't being watched, I swiped the board and ducked behind Sonia's apartment building. Just as I had predicted, there was a large, half-full dumpster pushed against the brick wall. Quickly, I deposited the board there, concealing it beneath a pile of trash. If it was still there when I came back, it was mine.

I slammed down the lid of the dumpster and hooked my thumbs in my pockets, whistling cheerfully as I made the trek out of the uptown area. I hitched a ride on the back of a streetcar and soon, I had made it to the junkyard.

"Benny, my man!" I exclaimed cheerfully, barging in through the front door of his shack.

He was sitting at a desk with his feet propped up, reading the newspaper. "What's it this time, Maniac?"

Ben was a tall and broad Overlander who knew more about cars than anyone else in the city. He'd given me a few miniature crash courses in auto mechanics over the years. Thanks to him, I actually know how a car engine works (not to mention a whole lot more than that). Our deal is that he teaches me about cars, and I swipe him new tools or parts or whatever he needs at the time. Or at least, that was our deal.

"I need a van." I said.

He looked up from his paper skeptically. "Good luck with that. Why're you telling me?"

"Because this place is littered with car corpses."

"You know full well that nobody drops off a driveable car here. Go hijack one from a dealership or something."

"No can do, ol' buddy, ol' pal," I said, sitting down in the chair next to him and leaning forward. "Due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been rendered unable to steal anything. Ever again."

Ben stared at me. "You feeling alright, Maniac?"

"Not at all, actually. But the thing is, I really do need a van, and fast. Besides, you still owe me from that job last month."

Ben sighed. "Fine. You can go nose around in the heap. But don't take anything 'till I give you the okay."

I headed out to the vast expanse that was the scrap heap and breathed in the heavy scent of machine oil, rust, and gasoline. Man, I was gonna miss this.

Scouting around for something that looked remotely driveable or van-like was not an easy task. I found plenty of small car frames and one or two abandoned engines that looked promising, but besides that, zilch. Why couldn't Sonia lighten up and just let me get us a van the old fashioned way?

But I had the feeling that she was really serious about this. I'd never really thought much about my, eh, "habits" before she so nicely pointed them out, and I had never really cared to. Taking other people's stuff… this sounds really weird, but it had always kinda been a part of me, even before I ran away. She expects me to stop now?

After another hour of fruitless searching, I was beginning to lose my patience. I walked back to Ben's shack and popped my head in through the door.

"Yo! Ben!" I called. He didn't look up. "I need some help."

"What for?" he said flatly.

"Where the heck are the working cars? All I've found are busted-up bits of salvage."

"Were you looking on the west or the east side?"

"The east."

"There's your problem. I moved the towing area to the west side."

I called out a quick thank-you and dashed off to the west side of the enough, piles of towed and impounded cars are lined up, prime for the taking.

Er, borrowing. Long term.

Dang it, Sonia!

I roamed through the aisles of cars, some newly towed and others so rusted their doors were falling off their hinges. Most of the cars were small, but here and there I spotted an SUV or a Mini Cooper.

Until finally, I hit the jackpot.

In the corner of the heap was a rusted out four-wheeled camper van with a dome-like windshield and sunroof. It might've been beige at one point, but the rust and grime that enveloped the van was so thick that it was near impossible to tell. To the untrained eye, a worthless junkbucket of a vehicle. Those with true automotive experience, however, would see this little beauty as it really was: a smoking hot pile of potential. It seemed like I had my work cut out for me.

Benny was pretty cool about me taking the camper van off his hands; It had been lying around the junkyard for months after it had been abandoned in a vacant lot, and since it was so busted up, he wouldn't have been able to scrap it for usable parts, anyway. I could see why- the minute I opened up the hood, I got squirted in the face with a wild oil splat. After I had washed the gunk out of my eyes, I discovered that the oil had exploded all over the engine, making it impossible to examine for damages. It took me almost an hour to clean it all off before finding out I'd have to replace the spark plugs and two of the cylinders. The battery was so rusted it flaked whenever I touched it, and the turbocharger looked like it had been used as a cutting board. Hoo boy.

I was grateful that Ben was so generous with his tools and spare parts. To be perfectly honest, this thing was a wreck. But somehow… I had gotten attached to it. I was going to make it roadworthy or die trying.

And die trying I almost did. It was like this hunk of junk didn't want to be fixed. Scraping the rust off the sides was pure torture, and the engine was emitting some weird blue smoke every time I tried to get it started. The idiot who used to own this thing must've tried putting in diesel fuel instead of gasoline. If they were that dumb, then no wonder it was such a piece of garbage.

I worked all afternoon and into the night on that van. I cleaned off all the rust, completely swapped out the engine and battery, fitted it with brand-new tires, reinforced the brakes, and replaced the headlights and seats (there was some strange-looking mold growing on the fabric that I didn't have a very good feeling about). I even added in the back a bunk bed you could fold up against the wall. And I'm happy to say that all my hard work paid off; The car was still pretty grungy-looking on the outside, but it handled like a dream.

I was exhausted and sweaty and covered in grease and oil, and I wanted to go back to Sonia's place and take a shower. After thanking Benny and leaving him the three hundred bucks for his trouble, I drove off, the engine humming smoothly. I pulled into a parking space and locked up the car, and was about to head into the building when I suddenly remembered my Extreme Gear board I had found. I rushed to the dumpster and cleared away the trash, and sure enough, the board was still there. Score!

"Success!" thought our hero as he carefully stored his newfound hover vehicle in his mechanical chariot and climbed up the fire escape. He made it to the top, pausing to view the vast cityscape, reflecting on the nighttime beauty-

I suddenly realized how late I had been out.

Crap.

As quietly as I could, I lifted the window and climbed in and tiptoed across the floor. Unfortunately, there was a couch in my way and I tripped, the floor and I colliding with a loud thud. A light switched on.

Sonia was sitting at the kitchen table with her arms crossed and a vicious scowl on her face.

"Do you..." she said softly and dangerously. I sensed her seething anger and suddenly had the urge to hide. "Have any idea what time it?"

I gulped. Oh man, I messed up.

"...No?"

"It's four in the morning, Manic," she said, narrowing her eyes to slits. "Where were you?"

Part of me was terrified. The other part of me was confused as to why I was terrified. She's a girl! My sister!

Surveying his options, our hero analyzed his adversary, briefly considering whether or not he should beg for forgiveness, but catches himself- He is a swashbuckling daredevil with amazing hair and liking for vendor hot dogs, which are seriously nasty! He fears nothing!

Except for very strong women who could literally tear him apart if they were in the mood. That, he admits, he is rather frightened of.

"I was out getting the van," I said. Dang, Sonia was scary when she was mad.

"Till four in the morning?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Manic, don't lie to me. What were you really doing?" she asked, exasperated.

"Oh, ye of little faith," I said. "I really was out getting the van, sis. It's parked outside if you don't believe me."

Sonia got up and walked to the window, peering down at the street below. She squinted her eyes to get a good look at it in the dark with a cloudy expression on her face.

"... Is it that big thing in the corner?"

"That's the one. You can get a better look at it when it's daylight."

She sighed, closing the window. "Fine. But if I found out that you spent all day trying to steal it-"

"Steal it? I was fixing it!"

"Either way, it better have been paid for. I'm going to bed- we have a long day ahead of us."

She yawned and ambled over to her room, shutting the door quietly. Come to think of it, I was pretty tired, too. Auto repair can really take it out of you.

I curled up on the couch and shut my eyes. Maybe hanging around with Sonia wouldn't be so bad after all.

I was woken up with a scream.

"Manic!" It was Sonia (I should've guessed).

I jolted awake. "What? Wuz' happenin', where's th' fire?" I leapt off the couch shakily, blinking to adjust to the bright light.

"What happened to you?" she shrieked. "What's that black stuff you're covered in?"

I looked myself over. I had forgotten to take that shower last night.

"... Be right back, sis," I rushed off past her, and before she could protest, I locked myself in the bathroom. Maybe there, I'd get some peace.

After a much-needed shower, I finally unlocked the door. Sonia was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea.

"Feel like telling me what exactly was going on before you left?" she asked dryly.

"Forgot to shower last night."

"But what was that stuff?"

"Oil. Engine grease. Sweat and blood and tears."

"Manic, be serious."

"I am being serious! That van was nigh-impossible to repair. Totally worth it, though."

"Speaking of which…" Sonia abruptly got up and left the apartment. Curious, I quickly followed after her. She and I took the elevator down to the ground floor before leaving the building entirely to go outside.

"Hmmm…" she said, looking over the van with a grimace.

"Well?" I said hopefully.

"It doesn't look very driveable," she commented. Inwardly, I groaned. Did she have to be so critical of everything?

"Let's take it for a spin, and I'll show you just how driveable this baby is." I said with a grin. Sonia rolled her eyes but climbed in.

The inside wasn't much better than the outside, to tell you the truth. The seats (while better than the originals), were still not exactly new, if you get my drift. The carpet smelled kinda weird, and there was this odd blue stain on the floor next to the front seat. I could sense Sonia's disapproval from a mile away.

I made a rush for the driver's seat and clicked in my seatbelt. Sonia took her time getting to the passenger side, her face stony. Heh. She'll loosen up in a minute.

The second she clicked her seatbelt, I slammed down on the gas pedal, jolting us forward. My years of driving getaway cars was the only driving experience I had, and it was all I needed. The modifications I had made to the van made it the perfect vehicle to for high-speed chases, just the way I liked it.

"Manic! What are you doing?" Sonia was gripping the dashboard so tightly her knuckles had turned white. I grinned and continued to accelerate.

We twisted and turned through the streets, driving up on the sidewalks and going airborne with every speed bump. I was thankful that there wasn't too many civilians out. It wasn't long before I heard a police siren and spotted the flashing blue lights behind me. Oh no. There was no way the fuzz was gonna spoil my fun.

"Erg, Manic!" shouted Sonia. "Now look what you've done! You're getting us pulled over!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you- oh no. Manic! Stop the car!"

"NOT TODAY!"

Slowing down just the tiniest bit, I spun the steering wheel around, making a hairpin turn in the opposite direction. We sped past the unsuspecting cop at eight miles per hour, easily leaving him in the dust as I steered the van through a narrow alley and over a ramp, launching us in the air. Navigating home was the easy part; we made it back to Sonia's apartment in record time. I parked the van in a spot that was slightly hidden from street view and hopped out.

"Whew!" I shouted, grinning. "That was great! I feel really alive, don't you?... Sis?"

Sonia was frozen in place. Her expression was unreadable, but I sensed a volcano below the surface that was waiting to explode.

I'm dead.

"Manic… Charles… Hedgehog…" she said slowly and dangerously. Oh boy, here it comes.

Thus proceeded a rant about how irresponsible I was, didn't I ever think before doing stupid stuff, I could've killed us all, what in the world was I thinking?

"Hey, I thought you liked thrills!" I said, interrupting her seemingly endless spiel about my brain capacity.

"Not when they're illegal!" she shrieked, tugging at her hair. "The police are going to trace our license plate and throw us both in jail!"

"No they won't."

"Yes, Manic, they will!"

"No, they won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because we don't have any license plate they can trace."

"What?"

Sonia ran around to the back, gaping in shock at the empty place where our license plate should've been. I thought she was gonna start yelling again, but it appeared as though she was finally getting a grip.

Sonia took a deep breath. "Okay…" she started. "Okay. This is fine. We can fix this."

"Woah, woah, woah, what do you mean 'fix this'?" I asked suspiciously. I didn't have a very good feeling.

She narrowed her eyes at me, but managed to keep her voice under control. "Listen close, Manic- You are going to go buy the supplies I have written down. The plan is, we leave Station Square tonight, and we'll need these to get on the road," Sonia handed me a torn-out page from her notebook, with a long list of supplies written in small, neat cursive.

I pocketed the list but raised an eyebrow. "And what will you be doing, Miss Perfect?"

Her steely expression hardened into something smug. "I will be making some much-needed adjustments to this... thing." She pointed to my van, sneering in revulsion.

"Nuh uh. No way. You are not touching my baby." I said firmly.

"Your… what?"

"This 'thing' is my pride and joy and I love it." I hugged the side of the van tightly, glaring at Sonia. "I will die before I allow you to besmirch my child."

"Manic, stop being weird."

I hugged the van tighter. "Don't worry, baby. Daddy's here. I won't let mean ol' Sonia turn you into something you're not."

Sonia's expression was a mixture of confusion and disgust. I didn't care. It was impossible to spend over fourteen hours straight repairing a beautiful piece of machinery and not develop an intimate father-child relationship, and if she didn't understand that, then it just mean that she had never really known the joys of being a parent. My car-baby wasn't going anywhere.

Sonia groaned and put her hand on her forehead in an exasperated manner, "Manic…" she started very slowly, trying to hold in her temper. "I am not going to destroy the car. All I'm going to do is get it registered- and you are NOT changing my mind on that- and give the seats a little maintenance. I don't even know how an engine works, let alone the brake system, so relax on the mechanics. If you want, I won't even touch the outer design. Just let me make the thing a little more… liveable." She crossed her arms and waited for my reply with a cocked eyebrow.

My paternal instinct was telling me not to let her within forty feet of my van, but I sensed that she was telling the truth on this one. It really didn't seem likely that she'd mess up all my hard work. I sighed sharply.

"Fine. But if anything happens to him-"

"Oh, it's a him now!"

"- I will bring down fiery justice upon your head so fast, you won't know which way is up. Capishe?"

She rolled her eyes. "Deal. Now, get going! We've got a lot to do before we leave. And don't steal anything!"

"Yes, Mother."

I dodged the back of her hand and skirted around to the back of my van, retrieving my new board before running off down the street. Once I was sure I was out of Sonia's field of vision, I hopped on, wobbling a little before regaining balance. I was thankful my shoes had good grips.

Riding Extreme Gear was just like riding a skateboard, except you didn't have to push with your foot and it was off the ground. Dozens, if not hundreds of feet in the air. Good thing I was oblivious to heights.

As our hero zipped awesomely through the streets on his equally awesome ride, he saw his beautiful city in a new light. The bird's eye view was breathtaking; Maniac wished he could look at it forever.

But NOOO, he had to go on ERRANDS.

Sonia's list dictated that we needed food, cooking stuff, bedsheets, and a first aid kit. This would be a lot easier if she let me go shopping my way, but she couldn't allow that, now could she?

I had a lot of time to think as I glided over the city, scoping out where I'd need to go for supplies. Sonia had really changed over the years. Like, a lot. She'd always been kinda bossy, though. I remember when we were kids, she used to beat me up whenever I did something stupid- which, to tell you the truth, was often. But I wasn't afraid of her.

Anymore.

Inwardly, I kicked myself. Why was I still doing everything she told me to? Sonia wasn't the boss of me! I had a life here. Not a perfect life, or even safe one, but it was mine. Then she waltzes in and demands that I give up everything for-

Oh, yeah. Maurice.

Forgot.

I was still in shock about how he was alive. Sonia told me I would be able to sense him or whatever, and I really didn't take her seriously until I saw… something. Something blue. And fast. And definitely alive.

It was weird; I didn't even know I could "sense" anything except for people's thoughts and feelings, junk like that. But I knew he wasn't dead. He felt… close.

But that was impossible. There was no way he'd have survived this long on his own.

When I was a little kid, before I ran away, I believed- truly believed- that Maurice was still out there. Maybe even looking for us. But the minute I left home, I finally got a clue: Unless Maurice did what I did and joined a gang (unlikely at age six), he'd be dead in a ditch before his seventh birthday. Sad but true.

Point is, he's alive. And now, just to help find him, Sonia is trying to force me to change everything about myself- my lifestyle, my habits, my job, even my frikkin' clothes. Look me in the eye and tell me that's fair.

Life was a lot more simple before Sonia showed up.

The errands took me the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon to complete. I had mostly shoved the thoughts of Sonia and Maurice out of my head and replaced them with zingers like, "Should I buy the Twinkies or the Ho-Ho's? Both are delicious", and "What the heck, I'll just get three of each."

Some people say that the smell of baking bread or freshly mown grass reminds them of home. Not me. As I glided smoothly over the cityscape on my board, breathing in the sharp scent of car exhaust, trash, and sewer fumes, I felt a pang of premature homesickness in my gut. Wonder if anywhere else in the world will smell like downtown Station Square. Probably not.

A lot of people say the city is ugly, with all the old, broken down buildings and litter scattered everywhere. I think it's beautiful. Not a pretty thing to look at, but it's beautiful all the same- if that makes any sense.

Looking down on the ground, I caught sight of a neon sign advertising custom vehicle painting. A thought occurred to me that having an Extreme Gear board that was only one color was kind of a waste. Red was good, but it needed something else.

Like yellow!

A half an hour later, I walked out of the shop my newly painted red-and-yellow striped board. She was a real beauty, that one, yes indeed. I think I'll name her Penelope.

Hopping on her, I sped back to Sonia's place. She was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in, sifting through her purse. Glancing at me, her expression hardened slightly. Great, what now?

"Where did you get that board?" she asked slowly.

"You ask like it's any of your business."

"It is my business," she snarled. "Where did you get it?"

I sighed with as much bravado as I could muster. "If you must know, sister dearest, this masterpiece of craftsmanship was left in a dumpster, abandoned! I bravely risked my life to save and restore her, but…" I paused for dramatic effect. "I suffered grave injuries at the hands of the nefarious Dumpster King, all worth it to rescue my darling Penelope!"

"Penelope?"

I ignored her. "If you rip her from me now, you poor, misguided soul, I… I… may not survive the ordeal…"

Sonia rolled her eyes. "You stole it, didn't you?"

"Oh, ye of little faith! You wound me! Dost thou not believe thy own flesh and blood?"

"No, I don't," she said flatly. "Go return it! And stop talking like that!"

"Alas, I cannot fulfill either request, thou ill-tempered country wench, " I said, grinning widely at her growing discomfort. "Penelope is my own property, and while I'll tolerate your insistence on us embarking on grand quest to retrieve our long-lost brother-"

"Speak normally, Manic!"

I sighed, frustrated. Yeesh, couldn't she take a joke? "Fine, then. Translation: This board is mine and you can't take it."

"But it's not yours. I can tell you stole it!"

"Oh, really? Prove it. Prove that I didn't find this in a dumpster like I just said, princess. Then I'll return it, mmkay?"

Sonia opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Her cheeks turned bright red; I smirked.

"That's what I thought. Looks like you're staying with me, Penelope." I stroked the board's smooth metal edges. Sonia glared.

"Would you quit being so smug?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Would you quit being so controlling?" I retorted. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

"My problem is that you've got issues, Manic!" said Sonia, her voice rising.

"Um, okay, rude much?"

"You're a thief!" she shouted. "From what I've seen, you lie and you steal and you con innocent people out of their money! If anything, you're the one with problems! I get that it was your gang that made you this way, but you're a low-down, slobby punk with like, no sense of morals!"

"Ouch. That hit a little below the belt, sis," I said casually, tapping the table loudly with my drumsticks and refusing to face Sonia. But even without looking at her, I could tell that she was turning bright red. That tends to happen when she gets mad.

Growing up, I don't remember Sonia ever having this much of an anger-management problem. She was more of the type who sat and took whatever life threw at her, which is probably the reason she was the more serious and level-headed one of the two of us- and the one who got teased the most. She never fought back, so I took on that job. Now? She won't stop freaking out over every tiny nitpick.

I studied her features, trying to take in every bit of information I could. It was hard, though; that girl had some serious mental walls. Dang, she doesn't trust anybody, does she? I tried to concentrate- let's see… I already learned the hard way that she knows how to fight… she's obviously got a lot of emotional baggage from years of… What was that kid's name? Bobby?... Yeah, him. I hated him.

Oh wait, she's still talking?

"-ought to be ashamed of yourself! It doesn't matter if you joined a gang, Manic, you know stealing is wrong!... Are you even listening to me?"

"With one ear. That's all I need with you," I said dryly. "Rest assured, sister dear, I'm ashamed of myself. You have helped me see the light. I am a naughty boy and deserve to be punished. Chaos, forgive me!" I sunk to the floor on bended knee, clasping my hands together and shouting up at the ceiling. "There are no words for the thanks I give you for revealing to me my true wickedness! I hereby resolve to repent of my evil deeds! Oh, remorse… remorse…" I fell to the ground, writhing in faux agony. Sonia stared down at me with an expression of the utmost disgust.

She sighed, throwing up her hands. "I give up."

I opened one eye and grinned. Guess my "penitent sinner" act worked "Does that mean this conversation is over?"

Sonia looked like she wanted to keep shouting, but she managed to compose herself. "Yes. Get up."

"But I like it down here. Your carpet is very nice."

"Cut it with the sarcasm already!"

"What? Sarcasm? Me?"

"Hmmpf. Fine then," said Sonia, walking over to a large shopping bag on the kitchen table and reaching in. "You can stay down there and live in ignorance of the new clothes I got you. Or, you could try them on."

I.

Would rather.

Die.

In an instant, I was up and running toward the window. In another instant, Sonia was dragging me away by the ear.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow-"

"What are you trying to do, kill yourself?" she demanded.

"No, but if that had been the outcome, I wouldn't have been disappointed!"

"Manic!"

"Sis, I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible- there is no way in heck that I'll ever wear anything from one of your prissy, preppy fashion malls. Ever. So forget it."

"Relax, I got stuff you'll like."

"Right. Sure. Sonia, if there's a sweater vest in that bag, then so help me-"

She didn't answer, but pulled out a grungy, dark green and brown camo jacket with frayed black edges. I shut up real quick.

Sonia smiled at my silence and kept pulling out more clothes from the bag. Baggy, dark gray jeans with holes in the knees… cropped black skater pants… a grungy red pullover hoodie… black aviator sunglasses...

"Brother dear, I'm a Fashionista- but that doesn't mean I think that my style is everyone's style. Fashion isn't just dresses and frills, but about matching personality to clothing. And there isn't just one style, there are hundreds of styles- whether I personally like them or not. I like the simple but practical outfits that can also look cute." She gestured at her dark purple jeans and red and gold blouse. "You-" her hand pointed at me, "prefer a look that's easy to maneuver in and you can continually ruin without making it look worse than it already is. In other words, holes, patches, and stains are your friends." Sonia pointed at the stack of clothes on the bed, "And trust me, there is plenty of that in any department store."

For once today, Sonia was smiling. She must really like fashion. I was still in shock.

"So let me get this straight…" I said slowly. "You… can buy this stuff. At a mall."

"Yes."

"It's new."

"Yes."

"Then why does it look like the stuff I get from the Goodwill drop-off bin?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Because that's what's cool, Manic. People seem to like grungy, punky, hipster stuff. Why, I have no idea, but…" She shrugged. "If it's your style, it's your style."

"Question: If this is exactly like my old stuff, why'd you get a bunch of new things?"

"The smell." she said bluntly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, if that was the problem, why didn't you just get them washed or something?"

"I did. Eight times with the best laundry soap money can buy. After that didn't work, I even tried hand scrubbing them. Didn't work. The sewer smell has embedded itself in your clothes permanently."

"Oh." That was weird. I never noticed any smell. "What'd you do with them?"

"Burned 'em."

"You WHAT?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do with them?" she said in far too casual of a manner. "You can't wear them!"

"You burned them?"

"Yes, pay attention."

I must've looked pretty devastated, because Sonia threw me a weak smile. "Don't worry, I saved your Strikers vest," She threw the red denim vest to me; I caught it with one hand in disbelief. "But if you ask me, that thing deserves to burn too. It smells disgusting."

"Really? Smells great to me."

The rest of the afternoon was devoted to me and Sonia packing up her apartment and loading it into the van. And I'll admit it, she did do a pretty good job of fixing it up aesthetic-wise. The beds had new sheets and pillows, and there was room for both her bike, my board, and three or four extra storage areas with room to spare. Guess being crazy uptight comes with organization skills.

By eight thirty, everything was ready to go. The plan was, we'd drive for two or three hours until we were out of the city, then we'd stop off for the night to sleep. Then in the morning we'd drive the rest of the way to our first place we agreed to look: Our old house, the one that was burned to the ground. Fun, fun, fun.

Because I didn't have a driver's license (another topic of the evening that turned into a shouting match), Sonia was our designated driver. How she got that license I have no idea- with her insane driving, she must have bribed the instructor.

I was quiet as we drove down the darkening roads of Station Square. Daylight was fading fast, but the lights in front of the stores and restaurants lit up the dark. The van slowed to a crawl at a stoplight, but I hardly noticed. Staring out the window, I took in what would probably be my last views of the city. That lump in my throat was starting to form again.

I glanced at a flashing green sign reading, "The Emerald Kitchen". I ate there once. Didn't actually pay for anything, but washing dishes for an hour was totally worth it- I swear, their lasagna comes straight from heaven. Too bad I never got to introduce Rouge to-

OH CRAP.

"Sonia, what day is it?"

"Um, Friday."

"Stop the car!"

"What? Why?"

"I need to get out! Right now!"

I frantically scanned the area outside the restaurant's front. Sure enough, a familiar white bat sat at a table, looking annoyed and angry and… hurt. Oh Chaos. Oh Chaos, I'm dead.

"Manic, why do you need to get out?" asked Sonia.

I buried my face in my hands. "See that girl, right over there?" I said, my voice somewhat muffled. "The white bat sitting at the table on the left?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"... That was my date."

"I'm sorry, what?"

I checked my watch; I was forty-five minutes late as it was. I had to make it up to her now.

"That girl-" I pointed directly at Rouge. "She is my date. I asked her out and told her to meet me here because I don't have a car and I'm forty-five minutes late! I gotta go!"

"Why did you make a date?"

"Oops, my bad! I forgot that my crazy sister was gonna pop out of nowhere and force me to move! 'Scuse me for making plans!"

"Well, if you had told me about it sooner-"

"Then what? You would've allowed me to go? Geez, when did you become my parent?"

"Manic!"

"What?"

The stoplight turned green but the van didn't move. Sonia glared at me, "Manic, if you are almost an hour late, that girl is never going to forgive you."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and attempted to jump out the window headfirst, but Sonia grabbed the back of my hoodie.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" she said, gritting her teeth. "It doesn't matter how much you apologize, she will never go out with you again. Ever."

"But-but…" I sputtered. "I don't just stand people up. I need to at least show up and explain, y'know?"

"... How about you call her? I'll let you use my phone and you can explain while we're driving."

"That would work great, except I don't have her number."

"What? How do you ask a girl out and not get her number?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was in a drug-induced state of euphoria and it completely slipped my mind?"

"... With the life you've been leading, yes."

I pressed my face against the windowpane, wondering if I could read her from this distance. Turns out, I didn't need to try very hard- I could feel her seething rage from a mile away. (If you don't know what that feels like, think a flaming brick to the forehead.)

Rouge seemed to have had enough. She got up and stomped away in a huff, clenching her fists. I watched her for as long as I could until she spread out her leathery wings and took flight. Pretty soon, she was nothing more than a hot pink-and-white dot in the dark sky.

Great. I blew it.

Normally, I'm pretty good at the whole dating thing- girls like guys who can make them laugh. See, it's the whole commitment thing I'm bad at; my longest-running girlfriend lasted a month and a half, to the day. But I thought that Rouge… well, she might've been different. The kind of girl I'd want to stay together with. But any hope of that was terminated by tonight.

"Hey…" said Sonia softly. "Don't worry about it. You were leaving town anyway, and… I'm not helping."

"Nope."

"Sorry, I've only dated one guy and… well, you know how that ended."

I didn't answer, but leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. Sonia went silent, driving onto the main road and up the freeway. I barely noticed as the road and cars blurred together, and I realized that, for once, I wasn't fidgeting.

As our hero, Matthews "Maniac"... Oh, forget it. His name is Manic. And he doesn't feel much like talking right now.

I love how Manic completely forgets about his date until he is SITTING IN FRONT OF THE RESTAURANT.

So Sonia and Knuckles have broken up, Manic just stood up Rouge (on accident), and Sonic is being ridiculously slow with Amy for a guy so fast. YAY! BREAK FROM ROMANCE! ALL THE FAMILY FLUFF!

Seriously, one more chapter of dates and I was going to rip the computer off the wall...