I had taken my notebook with me when I left, and was now sitting in a tree in the park. The distance from my spot in the tree to the ground was approximately 20 feet, which was perfect. Light from the full moon shone down onto my notebook as I read passages upon passages and scanned pictures and drawings. Everything was in this notebook. It was a record of my life.

Once I was done examining my notebook, I flipped the pages to the very beginning. In there, was a detailed description of my dead father. People tended to ask me how I remembered such details at such a young age. I'd shrug and say that I just did. It was a lie. I wrote everything down, every single thing. I was scared that one day I would forget, but since I had this notebook, all my memories were in the palm of my hand.

I began to read the description of my father.

Daniel Romanique had black hair, but my hair was a darker, shinier black than his. He had light skin and the prettiest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life.

I smiled slightly at what I'd written.

He was kind and polite to everyone, I'd noticed. Even to people who didn't deserve it. He was perceptive and intelligent and rewarded me whenever I'd accomplished something new.

Drops of water dripped slowly onto the page and I quickly shut the notebook. I looked up to see that it was snowing. I hadn't realized before that I was cold, but now I was shivering. Touching a hand to my face, I realized that I had been crying. I hadn't cried in a long time, and I had no desire to do so now.

Stuffing the notebook into the sweater jacket's pocket, I looked at the ground below. Snow had already begun to accumulate, and I wondered just how long it had been snowing. I hadn't brought my phone with me, so I didn't know the time either, but judging from the moon high up in the sky, and lack of people outside, it was pretty late.

But, I didn't want to go home yet. I didn't want to see those stuck-up sissies, or George or my own mom who doesn't give a shit about me anymore.

She'd even stopped asking me what I wanted to eat. She just made food, and because I seldom ate breakfast or dinner, I assumed she began to think that I didn't want to eat her food, and that gave her the right to make dishes that only she and George liked. Even when I was there with them, and it was obvious I wasn't going anywhere soon, she still made the food that she and George liked. Unfortunately, she also made just enough food for George and her, so I barely ate at all.

That probably explained why I was all skin and bones.

Feeling the sudden urge to read Bleach, I walked all the way home, snow drenching my shoes and freezing my feet. I was shivering and the pain in my feet had worsened and spread to my bare thighs, neck, and face.

I wrapped my arms around my body and tried to control the shivering. On normal days, the walk to and from the park wasn't too long. It took five to ten minutes.

I tried to walk as fast as I could up the fire escape stairs, to the top floor, where my room was. Reaching a bare hand to my window, I saw that the tips of my fingers were blue, my knuckles red, cracked, and starting to bleed.

Mirabelle was sitting on a cot in my room, reading a book. Not able to get a good grip on the window, I knocked on the glass, and Mirabelle turned to look at me.

Her jaw dropped and she ran to open the window. She helped me into my room, and once I was inside, she shut the window and ran out to grab some towels and some hot chocolate. My feet were prickling and burning, and I struggled to pull my shoes off, but I knew that if I didn't get my shoes off, my feet would continue to freeze and hurt.

Mirabelle came back with a steaming mug in one hand and towels in the other. She set the mug down and helped me pull off my shoes. She turned around to grab a towel and wrapped them around my legs. She took another towel, and set it around my shoulders. After she handed over the steaming mug of hot chocolate to me, she went over to my bed, picked up my pillow, and put it behind me on the wall so I could lean on it.

Silently, she went back to her cot to get her book, then sat down next to me.

"Try to stay awake," she said without turning away from her book.

I did as she said.

My mom and George knocked, and with permission from Mirabelle, opened the door.

"What happened to you?" Mom said when she saw me.

Mirabelle still hadn't looked up from her book when she said, "She left four hours ago and came home fifteen minutes ago."

Setting her book down, she carefully unwrapped the towel around my legs and pointed at my feet. "She has frostbite, but she'll be fine."

After asking a few more questions all to which Mirabelle calmly answered, they finally left, shutting the door behind them.

"You're acting different than before," I said. "Why is that?"

A small smirk tugged at her lips. "I was testing you, before. Honestly, I don't think chess is lame. I actually think it's pretty cool. I've just never seen anyone play as well as you. And, by the way, when you asked how smart I was, I have an IQ of 140, so I'm not as dumb as I seemed."

"Interesting," I said. "Why did you act the way you did before, then? Like a bitch."

Her smirk turned into a grin. "I was trying to get a feel for you. I could tell just by looking at you that you were pissed that we were here. And that you hate George's guts." She turned to me. "I hate the man too. He's a bit creepy, in my opinion."

I hesitated, but decided to tell her about the notebook. "The notebook you were reading before, it contains everything I know from memories to drawings. One day I found George looking through it. A few days later, today, it was back where it should be, as if nothing even happened. I don't know why he did it, or how he managed to put it back without me waking up, but he did. I'm a very light sleeper, so it's strange…"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I've never heard of him doing something that weird. I usually just get cautious around him. Have you ever told your mom? She might talk to him-"

"My mom doesn't care about me. She stopped caring the day after my father's funeral. And two years later, she comes home with George announcing that they will get married and that I'll have a new father. My first thought was that I hadn't wanted a new father; I was miserable from then on. But, I've been thinking, how long has she been seeing him? I've sacrificed my childhood for her. I paid her taxes, Mirabelle. I cooked her food. And all of a sudden, she comes home with a stranger!"

"I thought that when you were glaring at us when we first came, that you were just acting like a bitch. I act like one because I need to fit in at school. Even in front of my brothers. But…you hate us because we're related to the man you hate the most. I'm sorry, Kairi. I can't help that I'm related to George, and I don't have all the answers to your questions, but I can try to make it up to you. You don't have to trust me, but I can try to earn it. Tomorrow, if you're feeling better, we can follow George around and try to find out more about him."

Stunned slightly, I nodded. "Thanks…"

She smiled. "If it gets me away from my perverted brothers, I'm all for it. Did you know that Michael kept staring at your legs? I tried telling him to stop, but he just kept looking!" She laughed.

"I know. What's up with him? He's the pervert, and Kevin…he doesn't talk much, does he?" I said.

Mirabelle continued, "I'm the stylishly smart one, Michael's the perverted one, and Kevin's the plain follower one."

"They sound like they have such unattractive personalities," I pointed out.

"God, they do. And I'm constantly being pestered by my mom to where this type of clothes." She pointed at her clutch bag and clothes. "I'm living cotton fucking candy," she said.

She frowns. "I pushed you a bit far when we went to the park. I shouldn't have talked like that about your friends. Michael and Kevin don't think you have any, and you were just trying to hide it, but I told them to shut up-"

"I have one friend."

"What?"

"My mom-she probably thinks I'm so popular at school because I'm rarely home and I act like a teenage bitch, but that's because she can't take a damn hint. I have one friend. His name is Ace and he's in his second year of high school. I met him last year."

"The girls at the boarding school are basically all the same, and are strictly against foreigners like me. But, I watched them and eventually understood that I wasn't going to get anywhere if I didn't act like them. Now, all of them are my friends, though not close ones. You're strong, Kairi. I know now that you're not really a bitch, but actually really tough. I don't think I could ever live the way you do. It's all psychological torture-everything that's happened to you."

"I wouldn't call it psychological torture, actually. Everything that happened and still happens, I choose to go through. I skip breakfast, because I don't want to see their faces in the morning. And, I starve until lunch. I eat whatever shit they serve, then go play chess or poker, or whatever with Ace. He and Einstein try to get me to eat at their place because they know that I avoid my parents, especially George."

She interrupted me. "What a minute, did you just say Einstein? As in Albert Einstein?"

"No, as in John Westerfield, the game Einstein of Greenwich Village."

She seemed at a temporary loss of words, so I explained, "He is the oldest…gamer, so to speak, in the Village. Although I've never seen him play, he's supposedly a legendary chess player, and a master at many other games. Hence, the Game Einstein. Einstein for short."

She nodded.

"He's also very wise," I said.

"You seem to know a lot of important people around here…hey, what's Ace like?"

I shrugged. "He taught me how to play and win many different games in the span of one year. He has a German shepherd dog named Terminator."

I pause to think. "He knows how to fight. I've seen him. He taught me how to fight a bit, as well as how to flip. He loves animals, like me. And he's misunderstood. At school, he's often called a druggie because no one really knows much about him, or tries to, and he doesn't make too much of an effort to fit in either. He gets good grades, but he sometimes comes in late because he tends to wake up early to meet some men before they go to work to play chess. He's a really nice guy, and he's also really smart."

We talked for a while longer, but soon fell asleep.

The next morning, we were woken up by a loud crash in the kitchen.

Jerking awake, we both ran through the hallway and the living room to see Michael and Kevin staring at the shattered remains of a large plate.

"Fucking hell. Why?" I said.

I pointed at Kevin. "Go get a broom and shovel. It's in the closet over there," I said, then pointed behind him. As he scurried away, I pointed to Michael.

"You. Stop looking at my legs, or I'll smash a plate over your head."

He nodded, but I could see that he was still looking.

I looked down. They were still a bit red from last night, but other than that, they were fine.

I looked back up at him, and walked close to him so that our faces almost touched.

I grabbed the back of his head and stared him straight in the eyes.

"Stop. Staring. At. My fucking legs. I wasn't kidding when I said I would smash a plate over your head. 'Kay? Got it?"

I smiled sinisterly and dug my nails into his scalp. "Listen here, Michael. I don't exactly like when people ignore me. So, you'll stop, won't you? Good."

I pushed him backward and into the counter and dropped my hand. Mirabelle was trying not to grin and laugh, and so was I. But, I had practice when it came to threats, and I was more than skilled at keeping a straight face.

After Michael had retreated to his room, not meeting my eyes-or my legs- and Kevin had finished cleaning up the plate, Mirabelle and I went back to our room to get ready to stalk George.

She looked at my closet.

"You don't have a lot of clothes, do you? I might have some things you'll like, though. It might be a tad big for you, but it should be fine."

I shrugged. "Maybe," I said as I searched my closet.

Anyway, she chose to wear a high-waist cobalt blue skater skirt with a tucked in tight black shirt and black leggings. And I wore high-waist shorts with black leggings underneath and a tight black turtleneck tank top.

She had brought a lot of clothes with her, including coats, and she chose a black double breasted wool coat with a hood. I chose a black double-breasted overcoat.

I stared at her. "You don't wear makeup?" I said.

"No, but I do have some. Anyway, you should put your hair up. It's always in your face and will probably be a dead giveaway if he looks our way."

I nodded. She had a point. Standing in front of the mirror, she took my hair and quickly made it into a tight, neat bun.

"You have such long hair," she said. "How do you live with it?"

I shrugged. "I'm okay with it."

We left through the fire escape. She was nervous because she'd never stepped outside of a window to leave her house. I'd told her it wasn't worth getting nervous for, it's not like she was going to get stuck. The windows were designed for adults as well as kids to escape from in an emergency.

"Where does George work?" Mirabelle asked once we were down.

"Don't know, but I know someone we can ask."

We walked to Einstein's place and I knocked on the door. After a moment, I opened the door, causing the bell to jingle.

"You don't have to knock before you come in, Miss Kairi. You're always welcome here."

Einstein peeked out from behind a stack of games.

"And who is the lovely lady with you, Miss Kairi?"

Mirabelle introduced herself. "I'm Mirabelle. Her step-cousin."

Einstein's eyebrows shot up, but he grinned and introduced himself. "John Woodrow. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mirabelle." He shook her hand, and she shook it back with no sign of the bitchy hesitation she showed me the day before.

It was actually quite impressive.

The door opened behind us, and Ace with an uber-happy Terminator stepped into the store.

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced between me, Einstein, and Mirabelle.

She stared right back at him.

Terminator came barreling at me, but I stood my ground against him.

No one said anything until Ace broke the silence.

"Who's she?" He said to me.

"My step-cousin, Mirabelle."

She extended her hand with a smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

He shook her hand with his free one and said, "You never said your cousins were English."

"They're not. They go to a boarding school in England, but live in the Hamptons. And, why don't you ask her? She's right there."

After conversing for a short while longer, he left with Terminator, saying that he was going to teach him a new trick.

"Einstein, if you're not busy, could you please help us with something?" I asked

"Well, sure. Why not?"

"Do you know where George Robinson works? I've never been there"

He thought for a moment. "He's an accountant, correct?"

"Yes sir."

He then gave us directions to his office.

We thanked him and I promised to pay him back, but he refused to accept money. I was still going to pay him back.

We left the store and Mirabelle said, "He's a very kind man."

I agreed. "Yeah, he's a really good man. He's a better person than I'll ever be, though."

"I wonder what Kevin and Michael are doing right now," Mirabelle thought out loud.

"I honestly hope they haven't fucked up the house too bad." It was her turn to agree.

When we neared the office building, we stopped.

"Going inside would be too risky. How about this: one of us will run back home and look for some binoculars or something while the other gets closer to his office and watches him using the camera on one of our phones."

Mirabelle nodded. "I'll stay here because you can navigate the Village better than I can. Plus, I'm good with my camera."

"Okay. See you in fifteen to twenty minutes."

I tore down the street, and thought about Mirabelle. I just left her out in the snow…I kind of hope she doesn't freeze. Wait, England's colder…

Racing past people was easy enough for me: I was good on my feet, and I had great balance. So I did. I ran through groups of people, not bothering to apologize, lest it slowed me down. I really, really didn't want to miss anything and I also felt bad about leaving her alone. Since the snow inevitably slowed me down, I had some time to think about Mirabelle. How should I know whether or not to trust her? I've already told her a lot last night, but was that the right thing to do?

Maybe it's the hormones talking, you know? Maybe talking to a girl my age was healthy once in a while.

I reached the fire escape, climbed up the ladder, and ran as quickly as I could without slipping on any snow or ice. Slipping through my window, and onto my bed, I took my shoes off and let them dry.

I opened the door to my room and stepped out into the hallway. It was too quiet.

"Kevin? Michael?"

I knocked on their door. Nothing. Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for any sound that might've given them away. Moving my head away from the door, I said, "I'm coming in."

I twisted the doorknob. It was locked.

Something strange was going on here. Slowly and quietly I walked to the end of the hallway. Pressing my back against the wall, I used the camera on my phone to see if Kevin or Michael were there, waiting to jump out at me.

Nothing. I shifted my phone to look at the kitchen and furrowed my brows. I couldn't see anything, but they could be hiding behind the counter.

I checked behind the counter. No one was there.

I grabbed a cleaver from the knife drawer and walked back to their room and knocked on their door again.

After waiting a few seconds, I stepped backward.

"I'm just going to pretend this is George."

I lift up my foot, and slam it on the door, causing the door to fall off its hinges.

Kevin and Michael stared at me, slack jawed.