The summer when Anna finishes middle school is by far the hardest.

Or at least, for the past week, it's started out that way.

The past couple of summers I had volunteered at the middle school—there were summer camp programs for the students. Just daytime activities where the kids could participate in sports, or art, or theatre, or pretty much anything else that the coordinators could imagine. But now that Anna's going to be in the high school, it seems kind of pointless to continue.

Technically, it was pointless these past summers, too. It wasn't like Anna actually participated in the camp. No. She stayed with her father. Two hours away.

And that's where she is now.

Today I can't seem to do anything but curl up on the couch and stare out the window.

I pull my knees to my chest in a lonely hug.

And every time the phone rings…I let myself hope that it's Anna. Wishful thinking—something that I allow myself to indulge in every once in a while. But it usually just ends up being an employee. A sales coordinator. The store down the street telling me that my order is in, and that they're only going to hold it for two days.

I resent the mechanical, almost robotic nature that this life seems to have. The way everything continues to go on, even when your own little world seems like it's going to crumble to pieces.

That's why I feel bound to this house.

Like no matter what I do, or how hard I pull, the furthest I can manage to reach is the window.

And the world I see before me is a mess.

Because what have I done?

I am completely and utterly alone, while I watch my neighbors walk their dogs, grill on patios, laugh and talk on porches, and play with their children.

Although in a way, I now regard it as a world that I no longer want to be a part of—in the sense that I'm not ready to just go out and move on. I'm not ready to toss it all aside; I can no longer pretend like it never happened.

And that's half of the battle, really.

The reason I feel bound is because I can't let go of the past. I can't stop thinking about everything.

I can't deny that the memories have been hitting me hard lately. And most of them seem to upset me more than they do any good.

But the one that I can remember today may very well be the first memory to break that trend.

It's the first day of class.

And I know no one.

None of my friends have to take calculus for their majors.

But apparently, I do.

It's not like I'm worried about it. I already spent the week before I moved back into my dorm reading the textbook, so the first three chapters are going to be a breeze. I know the concept of limits like the back of my hand.

But the problem of where to sit—now, that one's not going to be so easy.

I don't like the front; I prefer the back.

But…by the time I get to the class, all of the seats in the back are taken. And all of the seats in the middle are taken. And the only row that is completely empty is the very front.

Oh joy.

Slowly, I make my way to the front of the room, and take a seat. I pick the desk that's not perfectly in the middle, but the one next to it. The first row is bad enough; I'm not sitting front and center.

The professor comes in about a minute later. And he's just begun to go over the syllabus when the door opens—and not quietly, either.

A girl I've never seen before, with red hair in two braids, a million freckles, and a green backpack thrown over her shoulder, has just flung the door open. She's wearing jeans and the brightest pink shirt I've ever seen. She visibly cringes when she hears the doorknob slam into the wall, and then makes an effort to shut the door more quietly than she has opened it.

The room is dead silent.

Until an authoritative voice cuts through the sudden tension in a highly unamused tone: 'You're late. Maybe you should try setting an alarm tomorrow.'

Well, it looks like this professor's a real winner.

But regardless, I think we all expect her to do what the normal student does—duck her head slightly, mumble an apology, and make a mad dash for the back of the room.

Instead, however, she looks him in the eye and says, in an accent that I can't quite pinpoint and in the most cheery voice I've ever heard at eight in the morning, 'Oh, no, I definitely set an alarm. I was up before it. Actually, I've been up for hours. I just got lost. It won't happen again.'

Her tone isn't challenging, or tinged with even the slightest ounce of sarcasm. It's just…genuine.

And I think that surprises us all.

The professor gives her one more disapproving look before saying, 'Maybe a map will help next time. Take a seat, so that we can continue.'

'Of course,' she says.

And after a brief second of scanning the room, I watch as she walks right past the end of the front row.

And sits down in the very middle of the classroom.

Right next to me.

I don't know why, but throughout the entire class I'm debating if I want to say something to her. I'm not usually the one to initiate conversations.

And, being me, I decide against it.

When the professor dismisses class, I rush to get my books together. And before I turn to go, she looks like she wants to say something to me, but I don't stay to find out.

And two classes later, after I've already bailed twice, it seems as though she gives up trying to talk to me.

But…

She still sits next to me the third day of class.

And the fourth.

And the fifth.

Until one day…

'Hi.'

I swear my heart is pounding.

Just talking to people I don't know gives me anxiety…but I'm pretty sure that word just came out of my mouth.

'Hi-hi, me?' her voice comes out uncertain, as if she's surprised that I'm talking to her.

I don't blame her, though. I've ignored her for the past four classes.

But all I do is smile and confirm, 'Yeah.'

'Oh, um…hi,' she says hesitantly.

Around us, all of our classmates and the professor are leaving the room. But for some reason, I am perfectly content to sit here and start over.

Since I'm sure I've made a horrible first impression.

'I'm Elsa Arendelle. I…never really got a chance to properly introduce myself.'

I finish the statement, and am extremely proud that I've managed to say something adequate. But then before I know what I'm doing, I extend my hand.

Because I lack the rudimentary people skills needed for normal human interaction.

Handshakes are for business partners, not classmates, and unfortunately, my brain can't seem to distinguish the two.

But instead of looking at me sideways like anyone else in their right mind would have done, she takes my hand, and shakes it for a brief moment before saying, 'I'm Annika, but everyone here calls me Anna. Anna Summers. Exchange student from Poland and an education major.'

And then she smiles, and I swear it lights up the entire room.

Suddenly, the world around me doesn't seem as desolate.

And among the array of neighbors laughing and talking and playing, I see a hint of a reflection overshadowing everything in that little window.

My reflection.

But she's a woman I don't really recognize.

She looks awful, if I'm being completely honest. Shoulders hunched, hair a mess, circles under her eyes.

But that's not the foreign appearance.

That's not what's out of place.

What's different is that…she's smiling. In the midst of everything, she's smiling.

It's a small thing—a tiny upturned corner of her mouth.

And I've never really let these memories do that to me before. Normally they make me remember what could have been. What I left behind.

But right now...right now I think I actually want to appreciate what was. I want to appreciate the moments that made me laugh and smile for what they were.

Tomorrow I know I'll go back to dwelling on what I've done wrong. It's what I've always done, and it's what I always will do.

But at the moment, I feel somewhat free.

Maybe I'll go out tonight. I don't know where, but I'll get out of the house.

Because there comes a point in time where the limits that hold you down don't seem as powerful and daunting.

And maybe today is the day that I test those limits. Just this once.

I don't think I'm strong enough to break them just yet.

But…test them.

Yes.

That much I think I can manage.

A/n: So here's the deal with this chapter. I wrote it out, and then wasn't sure if I wanted to include it or not—one of the reasons being because it's kind of short. But I thought it was important to explore how they met, as I realized I hadn't yet included that. And I also feel like Elsa needs a moment where she can be happy, especially one where her memories can cause her joy instead of pain. Plus, it helps to set a better foundation for Elsa's conflicting emotions, which are going to play a big part in the rest of the story.

So if you like the angst, don't worry, there's plenty more of that ;)

As far as where Anna is, you all are going to find out. Very soon. And because of that the next chapter is going to be…a big chapter. So do with that little piece of information what you will :)

Thanks for reading!