AN: Oh my god, thank you SO MUCH for all of your support! I really appreciate it, it keeps me motivated to work on the story! :) Love you guys! PS special shout out to Kathryn for helping me with this chapter. There were a lot of ideas floating around my head, and it was nice to have someone to explain them to, thereby explaining them to myself to have them make sense...anyways, Enjoy!

"Jane. Jane. Jane. Jaaaaane."

Skye knocked on the door for a third time, then leaned against it, sighing. Jane was probably screwing around with her Sabrina Starr story and had forgotten all about the MOOPS. Skye turned to return to her room when Jane pulled the door open.

"Get in here, Skye!" Jane hissed, grabbing the back of Skye's t-shirt and pulling her in.

Skye stumbled backwards into the bedroom, then sat down on the bed. "What do you want, Jane?"

Jane climbed onto the bed and crossed her legs, assuming a Buddha-like stance.

"Skye. We both know why I have called this gathering," Jane began in a deep, hollow voice.

"No, Jane, I don't. Stop screwing around and tell me why you called a MOOPS," Skye demanded, annoyed.

"Fine," Jane sighed. "I have a question for you. Do you...I mean...are you okay? You were acting weird tonight."

Skye's throat tightened. "Yes, Jane, I'm fine, don't be stupid," she replied. Skye shifted away from Jane and crossed her arms. "Don't be an idiot."

Jane looked down. "Well, okay, I was just asking, because I've been reading this writer's manual-" Jane hefted a large hardcover book off of the nightstand and flipped it open - "and it's got a section about body language and reactions, and you're exhibiting some of the signs of someone that's-"

Skye pushed herself off of the bed. "Jane, shut up. That book is full of crap for writers, I'm sure none of it is actually applicable to real life. Remember last time, when you tried to tell me I was exhibiting the signs of a person with potential for, I don't remember, some disease or something? If all you're going to do is sit here and read me some crap out of a book, I'm going to bed. Goodnight," Skye snapped, striding out of the room and shutting the door.

"At this rate you'll have potential for being a huge JERK," Jane called through the closed door. She heard Skye thundering down the attic steps, walking into her bedroom and shutting the door. Jane sighed. Skye never listened to her when she tried to talk about romance. She had always gone to Rosalind for that, and now that Rosalind was gone...well, Jane figured she could talk to Skye, but she guessed wrong. Maybe she could write to Rosalind tomorrow and ask her about Skye's behavior.

Skye slammed the door to her bedroom, seething. Who cares if it'll wake people up? Skye thought, who cares about anything in this house? Who cares about privacy? Certainly not Jane!

Goddamn Jane and her penchant for reading into people's actions. Skye ripped the covers off of one of her beds and sat down in a huff. Her mind was racing, her thoughts screaming in her head like sirens. She would never sleep at this rate. Skye pushed herself off the bed and started pacing around her room in circles. No, this wouldn't do. Skye needed more room.

Skye needed to run.

She pulled on her shoes, opened the door and tiptoed downstairs. Skye took one last huge breath and opened the front door, squeezing past it and shutting it-thankfully quieter this time-behind her. She stood on the front porch, breathing in the night air, feeling free and confident. Suddenly, Jane's remarks refueled the fire in her heart, and Skye leapt off of the porch and started sprinting out into the garden. She didn't have any kind of destination in mind, she just knew she had to get out of the house and away from her sister.

Skye collapsed, panting, next to the lily pond that had haunted her elder sister's lovesick heart five years earlier. Trying to catch her breath, Skye walked in circles around the pond, looking up at the sky. You could see so many constellations out here-Perseus, Pegasus, Taurus. She'd have to ask Iantha if she had brought the telescope. It truly was magical.

Magical? Skye's mind was brought back down to earth as quickly as it had risen. Jane had brought her out here. Well, Jane and her own wrath towards Jane. Skye rolled her eyes. She sat down on a big rock next to the pond and thought about what Jane had said. Was it that noticeable? Had she looked like that much of an idiot? Why had she acted like that around Jeffery? Could it be that...she liked Jeffery? Was that what Jane was insinuating? Was Jane's weird writer hokey right for once? Her head was getting cloudy again. Skye splashed her face with water. Maybe she just needed a good night's sleep.

How did she even feel about liking Jeffery? The thought was a new one, considering none of the boys back home were worth liking. She rolled it around her head. Jeffery. Why did she like him? Was it his looks? She hadn't really ever noticed his looks. Was it his soccer skills, or his musical skills? She couldn't think of any good reasons to like someone. Rosalind told her it just kind of happens. Maybe it was just happening.

Skye leaned over and looked into the pond. Jeffery was right. She had changed. The little girl that had roamed these gardens and rampaged with a soccer ball five years ago wasn't her anymore. Skye's new thoughts included advanced maths, and makeup, and, suddenly, boys. Skye reached in and stuck her hand in the middle of her reflection, shattering the image within the ripples of the water. It was like she was scattering her past. Maybe, if she forgot about her past, it wouldn't apply to her future. It was a dumb thought, but it gave her a little bit of comfort. She didn't feel like worrying about her emotions right now. Skye scooted off of the rock and started the walk back to the house. She'd apologize to Jane in the morning. She had acted like a jerk, and she was irritated and weirded out about her emotions, but that wasn't any reason to take it out on Jane. She was just looking after her. Skye sighed, wondering if she'd ever get her raging temper under control.

In the large mansion, quite a few yards from the pond, a freckle-faced, sandy-haired boy leaned out of his window and thought the same things.