Special thanks to these awesome peoples!!!

lilerin91- Thanks buddy! I think she might run in to him, sooner than later... wink wink.

hpgeek151- I wonder often too! Sometimes I find my self drifting off and thinking about what I will write next. Like, for example, yesterday my camarata(advanced chorus) teacher was like "Sarah?laugh laugh (to other people) What? She was totally spacing out!"

Spencer-Sweetie- Yes, and as a pacifist that was a little hard to admit. LoL.

tempz- Ah! luv it luv it luv it! Luv your reviews.

Valx3- I finally remembered how I knew your name!!! I love your story Drama, and The Psychic!!!! Please post more for Drama(and all your other stories!!!!) You are super incredible!!!!

fire-panther24- I hope you really don't hate me!!!! LoL back at ya.

Jul27xluvsxHM- I don't know, I'm really uncomfortable with sharing my writing with other people...

Chapter 7 If Only

"If only,

If only,"

The woodpecker cries:

"The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies,"

Lillian couldn't figure out why that poem had come to mind, as she awakened and stretched. Maybe it was because of all the "if"s and "could have been"s running through her mind.

She could have been with Oliver.

If only it wasn't for that Candace.

She could have been happy.

If she hadn't danced with Oliver.

She could have been carefree and happy.

If only it wasn't for that feeling of coldness and emptiness.

She could have been a lot of other, good things.

If she and Oliver had gotten together.

Or if she and Oliver did get together...

Lily shook the thought from her head, and only then did she notice surroundings:

She was in a deserted part of the beach, it was empty, calm and quiet. The wind blew over her raw cold skin, and she was surronded by the never-ending piles of sand and the palm trees and brush. The tree branches were low, and hid the unknown sanctuary from the other beach-goers.

Horror sent tremors through her bones as she realized two things.

This was her and Oliver's spot.

But it had been nothing without the second thought:

It was ten o'clock in the morning.

She was flustered, crying, and probably in the most trouble she'd ever been in her whole life.

She grabbed her bag, and black stiletto shoes before, running home... hoping, wishing, dreaming that her mother overlooked her absence.

She pulled the front door open, and lost all hope as she saw her mother's red porsche. Frowning she replaced her house key in her pink bag.

As she entered the room, she tiptoed up the stairs unaware of the four figures waiting at the kitchen table.

"Lillian?" The voice belonged to her father. And suddenly she feared him.

She retreated down the stairs, towards her mother, her father, Mrs. Oken, and...

She gasped at the forth figure:

Oliver.