Responses for Reviewers for Chapter 13 (I'll try and do this every chapter now):

TMI~It WAS sad. I was sad while writing it. Sad, sad sad. SAD. But hey, unlucky chapter number 13, right? Right.

Froyogirl27~I am good. I'm just so talented, it's dazzling. I'm sure you all agree.

Lozzy98~It had been stuck in my head for days; it's the kind of song where you randomly burst into it at the strangest times. Like during a Science test, for example. Awkward...

desperatelyobvious~Neither did I, to be honest. It just sort of popped into my head at the last second.

ISuckAtUsernames~We should form an alliance to fight the advances of the Dylan-faced army.

World of New~Uh...sure. Okay.

maxrideanime989~I'll update soon! Er, now. Whatever.

Maximum-Games~I always hated the FanFics where it's like 'Oh Fang! I love you so!' 'Max! I love you too! But I'm secretly part of a gang and I have to kill everyone you love and you too!' 'Oh no, Fang! Let's put our differences aside and buy a house in the Bahamas! YAY!' I decided to make mine as non-that as possible. It's a dream of mine, honestly.

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR REVIEWING! I love my reviews. I feed on them like a dementor feeds on happiness and souls. NUMMY NUM NUMMERS.

First thought: Crap. Second thought: CRAAAAAP.

I so messed up.

Even now, sitting on a park bench with my dirty, smushed mask in hand, I knew that. I had realized the severity of my mistake right after I left, and ran back to apologize.

But Nick had left.

I can't believe I let that happen. I can be such a complete imbecile sometimes. I mean, what was so wrong with Nick looking at me? He was LOOKING at me. Not worthy of the grand flee he got in return.

I mean, it was really awkward and everything about winning the contest, but that didn't matter. We wore matching costumes. We stayed by each other. We even danced with each other. It's natural for them to assume that we're together.

But still...were we really that 'cute' of a couple? Why did we have to be clumped together? Why can't a boy and a girl be friends without some kind of inane, melodramatic romance developing? Why did everyone assume that we were madly in love?

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. No matter how I looked at it, I had just fled from one of, if not the, best friends I had ever had. Our connection was legitimate. I felt like I knew him more over a period of-what, three moths? Four?-than I knew NUdge or Tess over a period of three years. We were made of the same material, so to speak.

I had to fix this.

...But how?

I thought, long and hard, ignoring the fact that it was freezing cold and I was only wearing a black dress and some tennis shoes.

This whole thing was a complete slap in the face. I was too short-tempered, too paranoid, taking too much for granted.

I shook my head again. Fix this.

I thought back to when I had first heard Nick was coming to the neighborhood. What had Ella said?

Old house...the one just down the street from Arianna and Gregory's.

I picked up my mask, slammed it on my face, and picked my way along the treacherous, damp sidewalk.

Fix this.

THIS IS A PAGE BREAK LA LA LA LA LA PAGEY PAGEY PAGE BREAK LA.

Ideas always seem much better in your head.

That was the only thing in my mind as I stood in front of the modest 2-story stone house with a little plaque on the door reading 'Falkin Residence' in elaborate, graceful gold letters. As for what to do now, I was drawing up a blank.

Deciding I would wing it (improvisation being one of my better talents), I trudged up the stone steps and grasped the knocker, banging it firmly on the red door three times.

A dog barked from somewhere inside the house and I could see a blurry someone-presumably Nick-come toward the door through the textured glass.

When the door opened, though, it wasn't Nick. It was his mother, her dark hair swept up into a messy ponytail and the smell of spaghetti wafting from the kitchen.

"Max?" She said, slightly confused. "I mean, you're welcome anytime," she corrected herself, "but I'm afraid Nick has locked himself up in his room. No offense, but I doubt he wants to see any one right now."

"Is he real upset I asked anxiously, biting my lip and sticking my head further through the doorway like I might be able to see him.

"Well, I don't know about upset," she said, sounding mildly surprised, "but he did slam his door pretty hard...does that help?"

I looked at her, her face looking so concerned and motherly, and blurted out, "I need some advice!"

Merely raising an eyebrow, the opened the door wider and said with a smile, "Well then, by all means, come in."

She sat me down at a rich cherry wood island in the middle of the kitchen and placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of me, fussing that I looked dreadfully cold. I accepted it grudgingly.

"So, she said finally, once she had settled into the stool next to me with her own mug of cocoa, "spill."

So I told her everything. The argument with Dylan, the matching costumes, the dancing, the costume contest and-with a lump in my throat-the way I had acted afterwards.

She took a sip of her cocoa, set down the mug and said, "Well, you've gotten yourself into a pickle, now haven't you?"

I nodded and laughed weakly.

"You know who you remind me of?" she said quietly, staring at me with the same eyes, the same intensity as Nick. It sent shivers down my spine. "Myself."

She paused for a moment, then plowed on. "When I was in college, I had a friend named Mark. We were so close...I still miss that, that deep connection and understanding.

"Anyway, we were the best of friends. Went everywhere together. And one day, naturally, there sparked a rumor that we were dating. It as a juicy one, too, all about 'forbidden love' and 'trust issued'; oh, fit for the soaps. But I was not. I was very down-to-earth and practical then. I got so angry-I don't even know why-and went about like that all day when I caught wind of the rumor. I fumed all around campus, and Mark was concerned, so he confronted me.

"I was so angry and felt so betrayed that I yelled at him. I said-" She paused, her eyes full of sadness. "I said, I bet you started that rumor. I can't trust anyone.

"It was a horrible thing to say. I sounded so vain and mistrusting-it wasn't me at all, and Mark knew that. But he felt as angry and betrayed as I had, like I didn't trust him at all, let alone as much as he trusted me. LIke I didn't put much stock in him. So he left. He said, 'If that was true, then I'd apologize. But it's no, so I won't.' And he left. I never saw him again."

SHe looked at me and said three simple words: "Talk to him."

I replied ,"Call him down."

With a thankful look at me, she yelled, "FANG!"

I turned to her confused. "Fang?"

"Oh, it's his pet name." She smiled at some long-forgotten memory. "He had a biting problem when he was younger."

I barely controlled my sniggers, then got serious and said, "You know what? I'll go up there myself, thanks."

She smiled at me and whispered, "Good luck.".

I would probably need it, I thought, as I trudged up the stairs and knocked gently on a black door that I knew must lead to Nick's-Fang's-room

"For the last time, Mom," grumbled an all-too-familiar voice from inside, "I don't want any hot chocolate! Really!"

"It's Max." I said simply.

There was a pause, then a rustle of bed sheets and the door swung open to reveal Nick, still in his suit, with his once carefully slicked back hair mussed. His expression was carefully guarded, not as open as I was used to. He had kicked off his hoes, and I could see the rose, mask and handkerchief discarded on his dresser.

I entered the room quietly, sitting on the unmade black-sheeted bed. The walls were still white-they had never gotten around to painting them-but most of the furniture was the same matte black.

He looked at me expectantly, still standing with his hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, throwing the mental plans I had made to pieces. "That was so stupid of me. I didn't mean to. I just-I just felt like...I don't even know. I don't what I was thinking or doing. I'm such an idiot. And now-" My voice quivered uncharacteristically. "-and now you won't hang out with me any more because I'm an overthinking, paranoid idiot."

THere was a long, drawn out silence in which Nick merely looked at me.

"I'll go," I said quietly, covering my face with my hair and making to go to the door. NIck shot his arm out and grabbed my elbow, holding me back.

"I was the stupid one." HE said simply. "I shouldn't have left. It was childish and immature. I should have gone after you, or at least not left in a huff and left my own mother in the dark as to why."

We stared at each other for a while, both of us mutually glad that the other had felt bad too.

"I'm sorry," we said in unison.

Feeling like that was all I had to say, I started for the door.

Once again, Nick's arm shot out but this time he pulled me into a huge bear hug. I exhaled loudly and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"Thanks...Fang." I said, and he whipped around.

"MOM!" He screamed in exasperation as I raced down the stairs laughing.

AWWWWWW.

R&R or die. You choose.