A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter and gave me pointers and what not. One person mentioned that I shouldn't let other opinions rule how I write, and I appreciate their honesty, but I like hearing what you guys want to see in the story. Just because you tell me you want it to happen, doesn't mena I'll actually write it, but you might have an idea that I really like and wouldn't have thought of on my own.

Present Time

Steve looked at Matt in disbelief. The story Matt Garrety had just told was both horrible and gut wrenching. He didn't want to believe it had really happened, he wanted to give Andrew the benefit of a doubt, but he knew better then to dismiss Matt's words. He wouldn't lie about this, not in a million years.

"Wow, I just-wow." He was at a loss for words. How does a person react to a story like that?

"But it wasn't all Andrew's fault!" Casey made sure he knew. "He was pushed to it. Anyone would have snapped in his position."

They were back at Matt's house, sitting on the floor. Steve sat against Matt's bed and Casey was leaning against Matt with his arm around her shoulder as a small form of comfort.

"Yeah, not all of it was his fault, but what happened was devastating. You know it had to have been if I was forced to, you know." Matt said, his face pinched with sadness. He still didn't like talking about how he had to kill his cousin. Even if Andrew was now alive.

"Wow." Steve repeated. "I'm almost glad I died before all this happened. The whole 'black person always dies first' cliché actually came in handy."

Matt couldn't help but smile. It was nice to have Steve back, cracking jokes.

"But seriously," Matt tried to get them all back on track. "What are we going to do about Andrew?"

"We need to find him." Steve said like it was obvious. "I mean, I know I should be angry with him, I should hate him, but I don't. I couldn't even begin to tell you what that kid went through, because I've had a relatively good home life. Like Casey said, it wasn't all his fault, he was pushed to it. Andrew didn't deserve to go through any of that. And no matter what, we're his friends; you're his cousin. He's family.

"I think we should start searching for him. He could be anywhere by now and for all we know he might not remember anything. He probably needs us! You and I can fly to different towns to look for him, and Casey can search the web for anything useful. If you don't mind that is." Steve finished up, looking at Casey to see if she wanted to help.

"I want to help Andrew just as much as you guys do." She confirmed with a nod.

"Wait, wait. You've both left something out. I'm currently being watched by the government, and I don't think they're going to take Steve's sudden resurrection very well, if you know what I mean. I can't just go flying around without any explanation, and I cant exactly say 'Oh, I'm just looking for my dead cousin' because that won't fly well with them either and you know it!" Matt exclaimed, glaring at Steve.

"Well than you don't tell them what we're doing. Or about me for that matter. We can search covertly. I can stay here, because you're parents don't really pay attention to what goes on in your life, and don't deny it! I picked up on that pretty quickly after befriending your sorry butt. They wont notice a thing." Steve replied smugly, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

Matt sighed in irritation, looking to Casey to speak up.

"Don't look at me like that; I'm with Steve on this." Casey shrugged.

Steve then looked at him with a triumphant grin.

"There's no defying the lady, my good friend. We search for Andrew in the morning!" He shouted happily, jumping up and raising his arms like he just won the super bowel.

"Fine, fine, you guys win." Matt grumbled dejectedly, but secretly, he was looking forward to finding his cousin again. He was going to find Andrew and bring him home where he belonged.

/

Three Days Later, Kirsten, Oregon

"You'll be fine Andrew," Viola Tyler snapped harshly to the younger boy standing nervously in front of her. "Just keep your head down and your mouth shut and no one will see you for the pathetic little brat you are."

Andrew glared impudently at the woman. He'd been under her care for two days, and he already hated her. To his knowledge, she only took in foster kids so she could keep the money the government gave her to buy clothes and food for the children under her care. He'd been through a lot in the past three days and still she took no pity on him. She was a heartless witch.

The past few days had been quite eventful for him. He'd woken up in the middle of a field with a strange woman kneeling over him, asking if he was ok or if anything hurt. She had brought him to her house and called the police to alert them to the situation. After that he'd been brought to the local police station and questioned for hours about how he ended up unconscious in a field in the small town of Kirsten, Oregon. Of course he had been unable to answer, due to the amnesia.

A woman from Child Services had been called to help assist the situation. She'd been kind to him, something that seemed out of the ordinary to him for some reason. She introduced her self as Mrs. Truce, and she had promised to help him. She told him he was going to be placed in a foster home until his family or guardian could be found. He'd trusted her, but now he was regretting it.

When Viola had come to pick him up, she'd seemed so nice and caring, he could see why Mrs. Truce thought she was fit to foster children, but the second the two were alone, she let her true, hideous colors shine through.

She'd laid down ground rules for him, telling him he would be severely punished if he protested in any way. He was to go to school the second day he stayed with her, (Because she couldn't be bothered to miss anymore than a days worth of work babysitting him.) if he wanted new clothes or any other 'stupid teenage crap' he had to get a job to pay for it himself, and he was expected to help take care of the younger kids under her 'care', as it was his responsibility as a young adult to prepare for his future job as a family care taker. So yeah, she was a witch. All she needed was a pointy hat and broomstick and she'd been golden. And maybe a huge wart and a few boils so she would look the same on the outside as she did in.

There were five other kids staying at her house: Maxine Lolls was his age, seventeen, Kris Brickfield was fifteen, Curran Long was eight, Hank Edwards was seven, and Rebecca Wilson was four. Maxine was a pain, a stereotypical teenager, so he avoided her at all costs. She was the second worst at the house, almost as bad as Viola. He didn't mind Kris or Hank, they were both ok, and Curran was a sweetheart. He liked Rebecca best, she was adorable, but he didn't want to get attached to any of them. He had a feeling he wouldn't be staying long. That's why he planned on staying reclusive while he was forced to attend Kirsten Middle School.

And that pretty much brought him to where he was, standing outside the High School, waiting for the principal so Viola could ditch him.

"Thanks for that helpful piece of advice." Andrew said sarcastically. Viola stopped her texting and looked up at him angrily. She let her arms fall to her side before advancing on him menacingly. She leaned down to his eyelevel, invading his personal space before talking to him slowly.

"I've housed plenty of kids like you before. You're defiant now, but you'll get a hang of how things work with me soon enough. You may only be staying with me for a little while, but I don't tolerate back talking." Viola smiled viciously at him, patting him lightly on the head.

He flinched away from the touch automatically, like the reaction came naturally. It puzzled him. Why would he be afraid of human contact? He dismissed his thoughts immediately though. Anyone would flinch away from Viola Tyler's touch. She was vile.

"Well hello, Andrew! Miss Tyler!" A voice called from behind the two of them. Both Andrew and Viola spun around to meet the warm eyes of Principal Ramirez. He was a short, Spanish man with a potbelly and large hands. "Welcome to Kirsten High. I hope you enjoy the your time here, although I know no child enjoys school." He whispered to Andrew when he reached him, like he was sharing a secret.

"Um, yeah, I guess. Thank you?" He replied uncertainly, not sure what to say.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't even bother trying to be nice to the kid; he's not going to be staying here long." Viola cut in, earning a weak glare from Principal Ramirez. "Look, just send Andrew home with Maxine and Kristopher. Make sure he doesn't get in any first fights and that's all that matters to me. He can fail all his classes for all I care, just keep the police out of it." She warned the man rudely.

"Now I have to go. Make sure you keep Rebecca and Hank out of trouble when you get back to the house." She reminded Andrew as she texted on her phone distractedly. "Bye Bye, Andy."

"It's Andrew!" He called after her.

"Whatever!" She shouted back brashly.

The principal watched her walk away with disgusted look in his eyes. "Yes, that woman is horrible." He said as he turned back to Andrew. "I've tried to get her off the foster care system many a time, but I've never succeeded. Anyway, I'll just give you your schedule for the day and you can be on your way. Your first class starts in five minutes, it's on the second floor, third door to the right." He handed Andrew a sheet of paper with directions and classes on it before walking back into the school without saying so much as a 'good luck'.

"Thanks for the hospitality." Andrew mumbled to himself bitterly. Today, would not be a good day.

/

And a good day it was not. At least the first wasn't, because that was as far as he'd gotten.

It had taken more than just five minutes to find his first period class, so he'd been late. That alone had been embarrassing, but then the teacher made him stand up in front of the entire class to 'tell them a little about yourself'. That had gone just lovely. All he was able to tell them was that he had amnesia and was staying at a foster care house until his real family could be found. They had all laughed at him. He'd gotten so mad, he could have sworn it was his fault the teacher's mug had imploded, but that was impossible.

After that that others kids avoided him like he had the black plague. They looked at him like he was some kind of freak, and for what? Just because he couldn't remember much about his life, because he was staying at a foster house? It made his blood boil, but something about it all seemed normal, like he was used to being treated like he was nothing. He must not have been very popular at his old school, wherever that was.

The next four periods were almost painful to experience. His science partner spent the whole class mackin' on some red headed cheerleader, the person that sat behind him in math took a liking to flicking him behind the head, and his gym teacher treated him like he was made of glass. Not to mention everyone gawked at his scars.

Now it was time for lunch, and he was dreading it. He walked to the cafeteria as slowly as possible. He knew no one would want to sit with him. Lunchtime would be miserable.

He sighed and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, looking around nervously. Of course he had a packed lunch, because Viola refused to allow any of her foster kids to buy lunch. To her it was a waste of money.

As he pushed open the cafeteria doors, he could feel all eyes on him. He kept his head down, subconsciously following Viola's orders. He bumped into a few chairs but he managed to get to an empty table without looking anyone in the eyes.

He sat down, landing in the blue lunchroom chair with a quiet plop. Mechanically he pulled out his sack lunch and started taking out his food. He opened the Ziploc bag that held his PB and J sandwich, and started chewing quietly.

As he ate he pondered the situation he was now. He hadn't told anyone, but he could still remember some little things. Like he knew his mom was dead, but he couldn't remember how she died, and he couldn't remember what happened to his dad, and for some reason he didn't care either way. He also remembered that he lost a friend semi recently, someone that he had been really close to. The thought saddened him; in a way he was glad he couldn't remember how it had happened, or who he was. He also remembered he had a cousin, but that was all. He couldn't remember anything about the kid.

He was pulled out of his morbid thinking by a presence appearing by his side in the form of a person. A person who was now sitting in the seat right next to him.

"Can I help you?" He questioned without looking up.

"Nope." A feminine voice replied.

Curiously he looked up. The girl sitting next to him had long, layered brown hair and was wearing a grey beanie. Her eyes were a silver grey color and she wore a dark blue short sleeve shirt and a pair of faded jean shorts with some black All-Stars. Her clothes were casual, but still nicer than his hand me down green tee and ripped blue jeans.

"I'm Katie Harris. You seem lonely." She said bluntly, leaning back in the chair.

"Well I'm not, so please, go away." He glared at her. Katie raised her eyebrows at his reproachful tone.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be nice here buddy. You don't need to be so rude. I'm not here to make fun of you or anything. I actually think you look interesting, and that's a compliment coming from me, considering I think most people are boring, lifeless automatons. I saw how everyone was staring shamelessly at you. They're not very bright, so I kindly ask you don't take it too personally." Katie said apologetically

"Why are you apologizing for them?" He asked her.

"I though it would make you feel better." She replied with a shrug.

"Oh, uh, well, thanks." He said with a small smile.

"Your welcome." Katie smiled widely at him, flashing pearly white teeth. He noticed how she was looking at him, without seeming to see the scars. Before he could stop, he asked, "Do my scars not bother you?"

Katie looked at him with narrowed eyes, assessing him.

"Those aren't so bad. They're already healing. This is a real scar." She said, holding her arm out to him, showing him a long scar that ran all along her upper and lower arm. "This won't heal. You're lucky."

"What happened?" He asked in shock, almost touching the scar, before pulling away instinctively.

"Psh, please. Like I'll tell you that. I barely know you. I don't even know your name." Katie looked at him expectedly.

Andrew growled in his throat, getting annoyed with the girl sitting next to him. He didn't know if he wanted to eat lunch with any one anymore.

"Andrew, my name's Andrew. I don't remember my last name." He replied grudgingly.

"I like that name, it's nice." She said with a nod.

"Thanks for the approval." Andrew snorted.

"Your welcome." Katie said cheekily.

Andrew rested his head on the table, taking deep calming breathes. This was going to be a long day.

A/N: I know, I know. Most people don't like OC stories, neither do I. The only other OC story I started, I wanted to stop because it got on my nerves. But I didn't see how I could avoid it with this story. Since Andrew's away from Matt and Steve, he had to have some other friend, and I didn't want to only write about guys, besides Casey that is. I hope you all don't hate me :P Anyway, please review! Show me your love and if people really don't like Katie, than I'll redo the chapter.