Author's Note: I'm really sorry for not updating sooner. I was trying to figure out how to go about this chapter. If I wanted it to go the way I wanted it – it would be way too short. So. I had to sit all day and get ideas for you all(: But that's how much I love my reviewers! :D I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

"This class is boring," she laid her head down on the desk. "I hate it." Fran closed her binder and her book – she never liked History. It made no sense to her. In fifty years was someone really going to ask her what happened in the Civil War? Who won The Battle of Gettysburg? No.

"But your so good at it, Frannie. You've already proved yourself to the teacher. Nobody here has showed him what you have." Max shook his head and laughed. School had never been his strong subject – so when it came to needing help in History, he knew exactly where to turn to. "It won't be long until the bell rings anyway."

"Why did I have to take A.P.? I wanted a challenge, but I already know this stuff." Fran raised her to slam it back down into her arms, again. "Get me out of here, Max!"

"Calm down. We have art next – that's a fun class, huh?" But when he received no answer from his love, he knew that it had been a terrible day for her. Sure. Max had been there by her side, but not even he was enough to keep her occupied.

"What year did The Battle of Gettysburg end?" The History teacher spoke aloud, looking around the room to find his next victim, but was surprised to revive his answer before he had a chance to call on anyone.

"It lasted three days. July 1st-3rd, 1863. Believed that the South won, but we all know the real victory."

"That's very impressive, Ms. Fine. I can see your well in school."

The bell rang and Fran was the first to jump out of her chair – grabbing Max's hand in the process. She only wanted to get out of that room and into something more quite and peaceful. She dropped her books carefully into Maxwell's locker before he carried her on his back to the next class. She loves her last period of the day – she always looked forward to it – like it was a reward. Eton only had three things that Fran was interested in. Max, art, and cheer leading. But only one was good enough to keep her around. Max.

"What are you painting today? Since today is free art?" Maxwell turned to his own canvas as he looked over to Niles. "How about you? You going to paint the usual pot with flowers? And C.C. painting the fruit basket." He laughed, turning back to face Fran. Max didn't know what was getting into him, teasing his friends the way he did. "Anyway, back to you, Fran."

"I don't know. I think I'll just paint whatever my heart tells me to. That's the way I usually start out." But her best subject being writing. Really, the only two things she's bad at – Biology and Math – both were a pain on her heart. "Anything that my life revolves around, it'll be placed on the paper," she smiled. Fran always had the best and worst choice of words, but telling which was coming out first, never could be determined.

"That came straight from the heart, huh?" Max looked back at his blank paper, "think I could pass saying I used invisible ink?"

"No," she giggled.

Fran closed her eyes and let herself imagine anything other than her dreadful like with her parents. New York streets were not as dreadful as her mother's mouth. Fran never knew when she was joking or being serious, but she knew she was serious when she admitted she didn't want her. Fran hated her parents and anything to do with New York. They had destroyed any part of her that would want to go back to her hometown. Maybe one day, when she's forgotten about everything, when her parents are gone. But she couldn't stop her hand from starting on the skyline of New York's beauty of the Hamptons. She drew the beautiful houses – like Freida lived in while she stayed in her hometown. The beautiful blues and pinks of the evening sky. She remembered every waking moment as she had wished she had lived there all the time.

Her paint brush continued to sway across the paper of the art class – not letting anyone disturb her – not even Maxwell. When she started something, she never wanted to finish. Like her life in American. Fran always thought she would go to high school, finish out beauty college, and then travel the world. But before she got a chance to fulfill her other dream, it twisted. She never expected to be in a private school, in love, or anything close to it. Danny. Fran never really cared for him, but not she regretted leaving him without telling him goodbye. She would never mention him to anyone, not even C.C.

The bell rang just as she finished up the touches on her painting. Fran brought her attention to rest on her other friends'. Max had painted the court yard of Eton. Niles and C.C had combined and done a small village of their own. But out of everyone's any the room, Fran's had got the review from the teacher she had wanted. Her's was really the only thing that held much meaning – that held the love that she missed, that she misguided, the touch that she longed for. Love in New York. She would receive it.

"Fran, your paintings are amazing." C.C. commented as they walked back to their dorm. "I've never seen such painting in my life. Did you ever think of becoming an artist of some sort?"

"No, I wanted to become a nanny," Fran laughed and rolled her eyes. "Actually – I wanted to become a writer. I'm better at writing than painting, anyway."

C.C. laughed at her nanny comment. "There's no way you could be come a nanny. Your too high class for that -" but she hadn't got to explain her story yet. "And if you writing is any better than your paintings, then, you've got some real talent going on. Is there anything you can't do?"

"Sing?" She grinned, "I cannot sing at all. My nasal passages won't allow me to do so, if you haven't noticed. But I can dance great."

"Obviously, you should have seen yourself at cheer leading practice yesterday." C.C. finished up her conversation as the stepped inside their dorm room. "Were is Maxwell? I thought you were joined at the hip."

"I told him I had something to do, but to meet me here in thirty minutes." Fran laid down on her bed, her cell phone clutched in her hand. "What about Niles? Where is he?"

"He's meeting me in the cafeteria for dinner. Then we'll probably go see one of the movies here on campus." C.C. nodded as she fixed her hair in the mirror. "Hopefully something good will be on – maybe romance. You know, I don't even have to whine to get him to watch one. He likes them as much as me."

Fran pulled her lip back and shrugged. "Is that normal?"

"Hell if I know. I just know I love him," she turned and smiled. "Have fun."

"You, too."

Fran waited to make sure C.C. was gone and Maxwell wasn't anywhere near the door. Her phone dialed a number that she hadn't wanted to call in ages. Truly, she had forgot why she was calling anyway – it was pointless and she felt sick at the thought. But as the answer on the side called upon her, she couldn't help but say something instead on hanging up.

"Danny,"

"Frannie! Where have you been? You know I've been lookin' around for ya." He spoke into the phone, making her sick with his accent. "I can't get a hold of ya mother eitha."

"I'm gone, Danny. I'm in England." But tears couldn't find their way to her eyes. She didn't have a reason to cry. It wasn't like she loved him and she had no reason to why she called him, other than to tell him bye. "I won't be returning."

"Why, Frannie?"

"I don't want to explain it, but I think you should know – it's over between us. It has been for a while. I haven't loved you in some time," she sighed. "Did I even love you?"

"Yeah, I began to doubt it too, doll face."

"Well, I've moved on. I've found somebody. I don't want you!"

"Fine, but you'll never find another like me."

She threw the cell phone across the room – not sad, mad if anything. Fran moved her head upward and saw Max standing with a gaped looking expression. Fran had definitely made a big mistake calling Danny and not locking her door first. She could only hope that Maxwell could understand and forgive her for what he had just heard from her. Exactly how much had he heard, though?

Author's Note: So. I really didn't like this chapter at all. ): I thought the ending was okay, but just like the other – I fill that this was just another filler chapter. I thought I could make this one better, but obviously I was wrong. And I have a question. Besides needing to up my vocabulary – do you think I have what it takes to become a writer? I know I'm only 15, but still. Thankies, anyway. Oh, and I didn't look this chapter over, so sorry if they're mistakes.