Again, Twilight and The Labyrinth do not belong to me. I just play around with their universes.

I didn't come across King for the rest of the day. The logical choice before me was to take the book to the office. I was sure the woman at the front desk, Mrs. Cope, would see that it was returned to him. I knew this was the responsible route, but my feet took me directly to my truck instead. I tried to ignore the book on the way home, but I could almost feel its presence from my bag.

I locked the door behind me as I entered our house. My dad ensured me it was a "leave your door unlocked" kind of neighborhood, but he was the one who had raised me in Phoenix. I didn't see the habit of locking up disappearing anytime soon. As I trudged up to my room I passed a few still packed boxes and was again overwhelmed by the injustice of my situation.

I had liked Phoenix. It didn't have the mystical feeling that the forests in Forks had, but I'd carved a place out for myself there. I was involved in a community theatre company, and I had people I was close to. Near the end I'd distanced myself so far from them that I didn't think I could really count them as friends anymore. Just then my phone buzzed.

So, first day? – Dad

My instinct was to be a bitch. I wanted to text back something that would make him feel guilty. Lonely. Cold. Boring. All came to mind as responses, but I took a deep breath and sent back something kinder.

Fine. Classes were easy. What do you want for dinner? –Sara

You don't need to do that Sare Bear. I'll bring home pizza. Mushroom? – Dad

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. What, my cooking wasn't good enough? I felt my lip jut out in a childish pout and decided to check myself. He was being nice. It was my first day of school. Calm down mega-bitch.

Thanks Dad. I'll make enchiladas tomorrow night. - Sara

I was trying. For the first time in my life I was trying to think of others before myself, and it wasn't coming easily. I winced as my mind went back to the hot night in Phoenix when my dad finally broke.

"Seriously dad, this is some major bull shit! Karen has me watching Tanya's bratty kid every freakin' night. I have school and youth theatre, you know!" I stomped my feet all the way to the kitchen where he was opening a beer after work. Karen was out of town, and I knew it was my time to strike.

"What?" He asked tiredly, obviously not having heard a word of what I'd yelled.

"Dad, don't you listen to anything I say?" I screeched back at him, "It's not my job to run this fucking house! I'm seventeen years old for Christ's sake! I'm sick of eating sandwiches for dinner, I'm sick of having to do the god damned laundry, and I'm sick of watching Tanya's bratty kid every fucking night!" I could feel myself turning red and I jutted my finger upstairs, "What'd you even marry that bitch for? She's never home and this is the first night you haven't worked late in weeks!"

"What do you mean she's never home?" He looked honestly confused, "Who's Tanya? Sara I have no idea what the hell you're screaming about."

Six months later, and thinking about the way I talked to my dad that day still made my face burn with shame. We were up until three that morning, comparing stories and unraveling the lies Karen had told each of us. She had asked him to pick up as much extra work as he could. She told him she wanted to save up $10,000.000 before having a baby, she'd shown him elaborate nursery sets and described massive remodeling projects. She'd been handling the finances since they'd married so he trusted her to know how much more they needed. He'd been working himself to the bone, all the while thinking about how another child would be worth it. He didn't know she'd been out every night with her friend Tanya. He didn't even know Tanya. She existed though, and showed up every night looking half dead. Her dirty hair was stringy, her eyes were wild, and her skin was pale. Her little boy was always in need of a bath and hungry. He asked me why I hadn't complained before, seeming proud of me for being so generous with my time. The truth? I wanted to go on a trip to New York to see my mom and I was hoping to butter him up. In fact, my entire tirade was going to end with how much I needed a break. I shook my head at how selfish my actions were. When the truth finally came out, I had wished with everything in me that I had talked with my dad like a non-bitchy banshee woman months earlier. Eventually, we'd gone to bed and agreed to hash everything else out in the morning.

"It's empty," his hollow voice informed me as he looked at their bank account online, "not even that, it's in the red." He barked out a single, humorless laugh.

I sat slowly down on the couch across from his desk in his office just as Karen's face popped around the corner.

"Honey I'm home…" she trailed off as she registered my father's expression. Before me sat a broken-hearted man and the despair in his face made me queasy.

He began demanding answers of her as if I wasn't there, and just when I didn't think things could get worse the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." I choked out, but the pair followed me arguing more and more quietly the entire way. By the time I got to the door, Karen was silent and shooting panicked glances between my father and the door. I opened it to find Tanya with her kid on one hip, shaking a bag in her opposite hand.

"I got the speed, Biiiiiiitch." She announced before recognizing that I wasn't Karen.

"Drugs, Karen? Meth?" my dad shook his head and backed away as if his subconscious refused to see the truth.

"Roger, I can explain." Karen held her hands in front of her, trying to stave off the blow of my father's disapproval.

Turns out she couldn't explain. She'd become methamphetamine addict when she was young, but had sworn to my father that she was through when they were dating. Apparently, she was lying. He decided to leave her in order to protect me. It was the single most selfless act I'd ever seen. I knew my father still loved her, and he most certainly could have gone the rehab route with her and dragged me along, but he didn't. He put me first. In return he asked me to grow up a little and be on his team. It doesn't seem like a lot, but I'm an only child who has been over-indulged to make up for my absentee actress mother and over-worked father. I was the queen of the temper tantrum, guilt trip and nasty attitude.

I stopped outside of my room to turn up the thermostat. It was so unforgivingly cold here. I hated it. Not fair. Not fair. Not fair. I chanted in my head as I pulled out my homework and put in on the desk. My biology book knocked the little red volume that I'd never managed to truly forget about out of my bag. I shot a few glances between it and my homework, but finally gave in. Maybe I'd learn something about my mysterious classmate.

I cracked the cover open using just one finger, and a jolt ran up my arm. I felt a little ridiculous, but the power the book had was kind of freaking me out. Elaborate script in black in on the inside cover read, Property of Jareth King. Jareth, what a weird name. I thought, finally using both hands to flip a few pages. What I found surprised me.

"A play," I said to myself aloud, "he was carrying around a play."

Maybe we had more in common than I'd thought.