I crawled out of bed late the next morning. Who could have guessed that sitting in a car for hours could be so utterly exhausting? I headed downstairs to the kitchen, stomach growling all the while. I leaned on the island and debated in my head – toast with peanut butter or cereal and strawberries. My stomach groaned.

Perhaps both.

I began preparing my meal, trying to be as quiet as I could manage. I could hear Dad, a few rooms over, talking to someone – probably a virtual business meeting. I had just slid into a seat at the island, taking a bite of my perfectly toasted bread, when my mother burst in.

"Great! You're awake!" She gushed. "I was afraid you'd died in your sleep!" She laughed at herself.

"Still in one piece," I muttered.

"Clearly." Mother hefted an eyebrow. "Now, darling, I have something to ask and I need you to hear me out before you say no."

"Oh no," I sighed. "If you're already anticipating the fact that I'll say no, why are you bothering to ask in the first place?"

"Because you are my loving daughter who has come to see me for the summer before running off to school, and I would like to spend as much time with you as possible before that happens." Mother studied me.

To me, it sounded like the beginning of a guilt-trip. One that I was probably destined to fall for.

"And where do you want to spend time together?" I inquired.

"There's a party," Mother began slowly.

"A party?" I repeated blandly.

"Yes," Mother smiled encouragingly.

"At the Sanchez's?" I asked.

Mother shook her head. "After Paullina's slight … breakdown at the last gathering, the Sanchez's have rather faded from the social scene."

"Oh."

"It's at the Orien's," Mother named a family I hadn't heard of.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, their summer cottage."

"Right."

"A lot of teenagers will be there."

"I hope they'll have a lovely time."

Mother met my eyes. "Samantha."

"Yes, Mother?"

"Will you please come to the party with me and your father?"

I was reluctant to do such a thing.

Mother must have seen that written on my face. "Will you be willing to compromise?"

"What's the compromise?"

"What if you took your own car and were only required to stay a minimum of an hour?"

I tapped my fingers on the table top, thinking it over. I dreaded my mother's social events. My entire life, I had been an outcast. She had tried, and ultimately failed, to force me to be friends with her friends' children. I had been very young when I had started making up excuses to get out of the parties, but they had always failed.

I sighed deeply. "One hour."

Mother grinned. "And," she added precociously. "I get to dress you."

I focused on my toast. It was much easier not to answer her – she was just going to do whatever she wanted anyhow.

"It'll be casual; summery!" Mother chirped. "I'll go lay it out for you right now!"

As she darted away, up the stairs to my room, I chewed my food as slowly as possible, trying to avoid seeing the outfit for as long as possible. Our styles often clashed and I could only hope that Mother was taking my personal preferences to mind, but I highly doubted it. She hadn't done so in the past (though we had come up with a list of 'compromise colours' that she was good at sticking to) and there was no reason to think she would begin to do so now.

The moment finally came when I had no food left to eat, so the only thing I could do was put my dishes in the sink and go see my Mother.

She was still buzzing about my room. Most of my dresses and fancier clothing had been left behind when I had gone to New Orleans. I knew I wouldn't be participating in the upscale society life when I went back and though I loved my skirts, I, oddly, was not as fond of dresses. However Mother lived for dresses and pearls; in the end, that's what I always ended up wearing when she took control.

"I found the perfect thing!" Mother gushed when she heard me arrive. "And you can even wear flip-flops with it!"

Mother was willing to put me in flip-flops? I was truly enjoying this compromising thing.

"Okay, let's see it."

Mother swung around to face me, displaying her dress of choice across her body. And, honestly, it wasn't what I thought it would be. I actually, kind of, loved it. She must have gone shopping for me when I had agreed to come see her because I knew I'd never seen the dress before.

It was a halter dress, one that would probably come to my knees when I donned it. There was a thick black band around the center of the dress, along the bottom of the dress (which was cut to be longer in the front and back but shorter on the sides), and along the tops of my breasts. In between, there was a delicate red swirling pattern – something Asian or that you would spot on a handkerchief. Either way, the dress was not uptight or fancy. Rather, it was something that I might have chosen for myself.

"Wow," I complimented. "It's amazing."

"I saw it in the stores last week and I thought I could talk you into wearing it instead of your usual skirt and t-shirt attire." Mother explained, laying it along the bed next to me.

I touched the material. Silky; even better.

"Yeah, it's great."

Mother smiled. "Get dressed, put on some make-up, and choose your shoes! The buffet starts at one and I want to be on time for that."

I smiled. "Of course."

She left the room.

I kicked off my shorts and tank top and put on undergarments. I reached for the dress, looking down at myself as I did so. I ran my fingers along my stomach, feeling my scars from my first, and only, ghost attack so long ago. It had become a bad habit of mine over the past several months: whenever I was lying around and doing nothing, my fingers would creep up to my stomach, rhythmically caressing my scars. And every time I did so, my mind would wander back to my rescue, to the very first time I saw him, and the inevitable breaking of my heart.

I tore my hand away from my skin and put on the dress. It, of course, fit like a glove. Mother knew my exact measurements and the woman was a force to be reckoned with when she was out shopping. Never in my life had I had a garment that was a little loose here or overly tight there – everything always fit me perfectly. It was as though she had a super power when it came to finding clothes.

I did my make-up. No eye shadow for me; I would probably just sweat it off in this heat. I put on light eyeliner and mascara, along with a clear lip gloss. I wasn't a show stopper, not by any means, but then again I never had been. And it wasn't as though I was trying to impress anyone. There would probably be more impressive teen girls there (Paullina? I wondered with a stab of worry. I didn't want to face the cruel girl again if I didn't have to) and no one would be looking at me anyway.

I gathered up my purse, slid my feet into flip-flops, and headed down the stairs once again to find my mother.

"You look wonderful," Mother grinned. But, as soon as I was within arm's reach, she was toying with my hair, wrapping it around her slim fingers. "Though I wish you had done something with your hair."

I fixed her with a look. "It is sweltering outside. Anything I would have done with my hair would have been pointless."

"Mmm," Mother agreed. "It's a pity you got your grandmother's hair. Hers could never be dealt with in warm temperatures outside."

"I like my hair."

"I like your hair too," Mother returned. "I just wish it were more reasonable."

"It goes with the rest of me," I replied, mouthy as always.

Mother was torn between being amused at the truth of my reply or vastly annoyed that I wasn't being perfectly compliant with her.

Before she had a chance to say anything, my father trotted down the stairs, calling out, "Are we ready to go, honey?"

"Just waiting on you, dear." Mother returned with a grin.

"Let's get going, then." Dad rubbed his stomach. "My belly's growling."

"Follow us closely, dear," Mother said as we loaded into separate vehicles. "Apparently it's a very isolated place and I don't want you getting lost on unfamiliar roads."

"I promise." I slammed my door shut and gestured for my father to head out.

The drive out to Orien family's summer cottage was boring. We immediately headed in the opposite direction of Amity Park and out through the woods. I loved nature, and usually, I loved enjoying the scenery. However, after passing identical trees for nearly forty minutes (and after my exhaustingly long drive only yesterday), I just wanted to arrive at the cottage, even if I weren't overly ecstatic at, once again, being thrown into my mother's social scene.

Finally, we arrived. Unfortunately, (for me, that is – Mother was probably delighting in the fact) there was already a large crowd gathered. It seemed to be a crowd of all ages: young; teenaged; middle-aged; old. I brightened at the sight of several senior citizens lounging in the sun. I'd always been able to connect to elderly people rather easily – probably because of my grandmother, to whom I was overly close with until she had passed away. Perhaps I would be able to strike up a conversation with one of them and not suffer out my mandated hour in silence.

I got out of my car, joining Mother and Dad at their sides. As I picked apart the crowd even further, I realized something that jolted me. This crowd was not exclusively the upscale social scene. Though the upscale parties were always overflowing with bodies, there was not a lot of variety in the faces that attended. Through my months in Amity, attending gatherings with Mother, I had gotten to the point where I could identify all the high class party-goers. This was not just the upscale crowd. These had people of all classes.

I smiled as I identified a small, familiar face hanging on the edge of the crowd. I slipped away from Mother, ending up by his side.

"Hello, Mikey."

"Sam!" He grinned in response. His voice had dropped considerably since we had last spoken. He wasn't even as small as he had once been. "I thought you left Amity!"

"I did. I'm just back for the month until I go to university."

"Oh cool. What are you going to study?"

"I'm going to be a design student," I said with confidence. Deciding what I had wanted to do with my life had been a struggle. I had been leaning heavily toward something environmental but none of the careers made me feel excited to continue it for the rest of my life. Though I knew it would be a statistical impossibility, I wanted to love my job. I had been talking to Leslie's mother, Anne, and after she had shown me her work. I had fallen for it instantly.

"Wow. I'm going for engineering."

"Dream big, right?" I joked.

"What else is there to do?" Mikey fired in return.

"Fair enough." I took the drink he offered me from the punch bowl. "So, how'd you end up at this lovely event?"

"It's my aunt and uncle's lovely event," Mikey explained.

"Ah."

"That's why all the freaks and geeks are here," Michael added.

I looked at him, questioningly.

"I know you were thinking it." Mikey shrugged. "My aunt and uncle love me – they were only able ever to have a girl – my cousin Starr – and I think they've always wanted a boy, so they always ask me to invite my friends and their parents. Besides, they're not as snobby as Starr and they enjoy all kinds of people."

"Starr is your cousin?" I blurted. "I never would have guessed."

"I know right?" Mikey laughed.

I stared out at the crowd, commenting, "It's nice for them to mingle. Maybe someday the privileged will stop acting privileged."

"I don't know." Mikey's gaze had suddenly wandered to the makeshift parking lot. "Once you start acting privileged, I don't think you ever come back."

Confused by the bitterness in his last sentence, I also glanced up to the parking lot. My heart stopped in my chest.

Coming down the path, to the cottage, was the damned Fenton family.

Quick shoutout to The Writer's Notebook for making a cute little fanart over on DA!

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.

~TLL~