Author's Note: I'm finally back from Ireland (fun) in one piece after spending sixteen hours in Boston Logan International Airport (not fun). I'm glad to finally be able to update. I really like Kiwi. Please, please, please keep those reviews coming. If you have already submitted a review, don't be afraid to review again. I am also open to any suggestion for the story (I need a color scheme for the Dragons' uniform. I'm thinking green and black. I'm hoping someone has a better idea.)

P.S. I've decided to post this chapter without the part I was collaborating on. Yes, I know, it's a horrible awful thing that I should never even think of doing, but I hate staying away from this story for so long. The story still works without it. Maybe when I finally do get it finished, I'll post it. For now, I just want to get on with the story.

Winter break started the next Friday. I spent most of the day up in my room working on my entrance essay. I had given up on "mind that does not stick" and had decided on the "most thrilling experience of your life" prompt. Even though I was pretty sure that most people applying would choose that topic, it was defiantly easier than writing about a mind that refused to stick.

My mother and I hadn't spoken since our "discussion" almost a week and a half ago. I knew that Uncle Mark had called her on Thursday; they had a long and rather angry discussion. My father hadn't mentioned anything about it. The prognoses looked bleak.

Em and I went shopping on Saturday. Em had already gotten most of her Christmas shopping done, but I was still far behind. This, by default, meant I had to drive (whoever had to buy more on a shopping trip had to drive. It was an unwritten rule between us).

Em climbed in and I threw some papers at her.

"Hold these please," I asked, "I have to go make some copies and then stop at the post office."

Em did not respond. She was reading one of the papers I had just handed her with great intensity. I tried to think of what in that stack could possibly have her intrigued. I guess teacher recommendation were more interesting than I thought.

Several minutes later we pulled into the copy place. Em was still reading the same paper.

"Em, I need that," I said.

"Show this to your parents," she said, not looking up from the paper.

"They've seen all my teacher recommendation."

"Kiwi," she said, "this is you admission essay."

"What? How'd that get in there?"

"It was right on top," she said.

"Well, it shouldn't be. It's just a rough draft; I'm still working on it," I said perplexed, "let's get going."

"Promise me you'll show it to them," Em pleaded

"Why?" I asked. It really wasn't anything special.

"I think it will change their minds," she said.

"I don't anything will change my mother's mind," I said sadly.

"It's worth a shot," she said, "what's the worst that could happen?"

She had a point. It probably couldn't hurt.

"Okay," I said; "but I don't hold out much hope."

Em smiled and got out of the car.

Later that night, after my parents went to bed, I printed out another copy of my essay and placed it on the table. It was my last chance.

When I woke up the next morning, my mother was gone and my essay was in the same place. She probably didn't even bother to read it. I was crushed. I needed to get out of the house.

I went to get my running shoes from the living room, where I had last seen them. They were not there. I looked under my bed, in my closet, and in about every other square inch of the house. I even woke my brother to see if he had stolen them as a joke (for once, he hadn't). I finally asked my dad if he had seen them.

"No," he said, "not recently."

That was odd. I thought he told me to put them away just yesterday.

My father, however, was eager to change the subject.

"Your mother's out shopping. She won't be back until late."

Okay. It wasn't like that really affected me.

"Mark has to be down at school for some track thing this morning."

Now that did affect me.

"Do I have to drive him?" I whined.

"I'm afraid so. I have to wrap."

I sighed. Mark had gotten his license at 16, but he had it permanently revoked by my parents when he got three speeding tickets in two months.

"When does he have to be there?" I asked

My dad looked at is watch.

"Thirty minutes."

I grumbled, ran upstairs and started beating on Mark's door.

"Mark William Peterson!" I shouted, "Get out of bed. I am leaving in twenty minutes with or without you!"

I heard Mark stumble out of bed and curse. Well, at least I knew he was up.

Fifteen minutes later, Mark hobbled down stair, half awake but clean and dressed. He grabbed an apple and went out to the car. By the time I was in the car, he was already asleep. I shock my head.

Mark didn't regain conciseness until we were two minutes from the school. He jumped out and started running in without saying a word.

"Hey Mark!" I yelled to him.

"What?"

"Get a ride home!"

"Why?" he asked, "do you have somewhere you got to be?"

"No. I just don't feel like driving back up here."

"Fair enough!" he yelled and headed back inside.

I pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive somewhere. I knew I should go home, but there really wasn't anything to do there. Miraculously, I had been able to buy all my Christmas gifts yesterday, so shopping wasn't an option. I finally decided to go look for new running shoes, since my shoes were not only missing, but they were also about ready to bite the dust.

I turned into the place were I always bought my shoes, Hit the Ground Running. It wasn't anything real special, but they sold shoes I was actually willing to pay for. I pulled into the parking lot and parked next to a black Saturn that looked a lot like my mothers. I stared at the car for a minute. It finally occurred to me that it was my mothers.

Now I was very confused. My mother went to great length to avoid this store. I dragged her here at the beginning of every summer. She would buy me one pair of sneakers for band. Anything else I had to pay for on my own. My mother had a hard time parting with a hundred dollars for a pair of sneakers, but she felt that band was worth it. Anything other than that, she felt Kohl's sneakers worked just fine.

So why was she parked in there parking lot right now? I looked into the window. At least that cleared up one mystery. I could see my running shoes on the chair next to my mother. Regardless, I was still confused. She never bought me running shoes as a Christmas gift. Unless… no that wasn't possible… was it?

I pulled out of the parking lot with lightning speed before my thoughts got too carried away.