1A/N: Wow, I was just rereading the first chapter and realized what awful language uses, sentence structure errors, plus the main idea of the first chapter was barely noticeable. Disgraceful...bad writing day indeed. Anyway, just when my life smooths out and everything is honky dory back to normal, millions of things pop up that completely annihilate any remote free-time for writing. Or reading. See, I try to read on average 11 books a week. I have only read five in the past month!! Well, here's chapter two. My goal is to make it a little longer than usual. I am a fan of short chapters that present only a few crucial story parts and some considerations for later.

Carey was indeed the first to catch onto the switch of personalities, and it continued totrouble her subconsciousness throughout the day. She stayed as long as she could at home, but the stress level kept raising. Cody wanted to discuss things. Things she had never heard of before, and he kept on rambling for eternity. Zack was pacing back and forth, with a frown on his face, moping.

She couldn't handle it anymore and decided to slip out to get some fresh air. Cody wanted to come, but she had assured him that going shopping for lingerie was not enjoyable or fun for a thirteen year old boy. The second she got out of that room, she could feel her shoulders loose tension.

The coffee shop on the corner of Wayward Avenue was no longer open. She felt disappointed while driving by, seeing the construction crew remodeling. She would have to go somewhere else to sit and contemplate; relax. She accelerated as the light turned green, and knew the perfect destination to let all her troubles dissipate.

"Are you sure you don't want to hear how melodramatic depression can indeed cause.."

"NO Cody!! Leave me alone!!!!!!!!" Zack slammed the door, keeping his twin on the other side of their room.

Cody looked hurt, Zack wasn't about to care about that though. Couldn't he see that he wanted to be alone? They were brothers; Cody was supposed to know when he felt like this.

He walked over and dropped onto the floor, beside his mattress. Comic books were spread out next to the small pile of dirty clothes. There were a few crumbs on the floor from the slice of apple pie he dropped three days ago. His sketchpad laid there as well, closed and at a perfect parallel position to the bed. He was being observant, trying to lead his mind away from his brother's ignorance of his feelings.

He told himself firmly to drop it. And he did. He grabbed the sketchbook and a graphite pencil, got off the floor and sat upon his bed. He readjusted the pillow so he could prop himself upon the wall comfortably. Once he was situated, he flipped the book open to the last picture he drew; there were only about five blank pages left. It was a jet, soaring through the air. Slender and flowing lines emphasized the speed at which it was traveling. He was judging it, appraising his own creation. Only one flaw, there was supposed to be a ray of sunlight, but he was not that talented yet.

He flipped that page over and laid a lines onto the paper, being careful not to push into the pad too hard. It was perfectly straight. What object could be fabricated from this beginning stroke?

Zack glided the lead once more across the page.

He saw it; the lines were aligned perfectly into the future masterpiece. Zack was picturing the details, the light reflections, contours of object.

In the most caring and circumspect manner, Zack worked on this single object until he was satisfied with perfection. It needed to look like it had meaning though; it could not simply float in total whiteness. He let his soul and emotions take over from there, and grudgingly the environment came into view.

Looking at the piece of work, clearly seen was: a gun, laying on a framed picture next to a can of beer. The condensed air formed drops of water on the side of the beverage, and a small pool had gathered on the picture which it sat on. The picture represented happiness, the gun anger, and the beer was where all anger and joy was destroyed.

It wasn't easy to see the true meanings of the contents in the drawing, for many opinions could be formed. Zack's opinion was the only one that mattered though.

He flipped the book closed. About to set it aside, he stopped and pulled the front cover over the book. Slowly, Zack flipped through each 9X13 page, taking careful consideration of each drawing. Especially in what they meant to him at the time of drawing, compared to how he felt about it all now.

Zack concluded that there is a reason and label for everything. Which all vary from person to person. He felt terrible now, and it was odd. In fact, it was down-right awful. Yesterday was such an awesome day. He had been totally psyched about the concert tonight, and now he was considering staying home and sleeping through it? It was disgraceful.

He found a new surge of energy and thought back. He thought of how he felt yesterday. He had a blurry reminiscence, but it came to him. There was no yesterday for him. But how could that be? It was so simple, andhe understood it completely, but...how?

Cody was hurt indeed. He felt bad for Zack, and wished he would care more about his interests. Zack was such a cool person, but maybe if he were a bit more considerate.

Well, what to do now? The suite was empty. Except for the TV.

Cody went over and sat on the sofa, outstretched his legs and took the remote from the coffee table. What would be on today? Wrestling, Nascar, political debates, the news, cartoons, nothing that interesting. There was a documentary about jellyfish, which was once his favorite animal, but he had seen it before. He settled on an interesting dating show. It was over in about twenty minutes, and he switched off the televisory unit.

Maybe just thinking about stuff, considering everything there was to contemplate would ease his mind. But how so? His mind was racing over 300 miles per hour. He was just in a good mood, nothing wrong with that. Was there? Maybe Maddie would be bored. Chef Paolo could use his assistance right now.

Wait...there was that concert. That was tonight wasn't it? Zack had been ecstatic earlier about it, but now he had moped so much he probably would need to be cheery before going. So he could actually enjoy the concert with his buddies.

Cody recalled yesterday at lunch, Zack had been so happy, he was talking to a lot of people, explaining how to get past level twelve on the latest popular video game. He was jealous yesterday. Or was he?

Yesterday...

Cody thought hard about yesterday. Nothing special seemed to pop into mind. Nothing at all happened yesterday? What had happened yesterday?

A/N: I am forcing myself to stop there, for I need to sleep. Seriously; I haven't slept in five days straight. But that's what I get, I guess. No memories of the previous day? Suspicious? Anyone curious at all. It's simple...sorta. Ok, I don't know yet. I have possibilities of where this story can go, but we'll see next time. I just finished an awesome book today too. "Intensity" by Dean Koontz. It's only the third Koontz book I have ever read, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.