Gah, one day late for the update. Damn...

Not much to really say about this chapter, so I guess I'll skip my typical monologue up here and let you guys get straight to the reading.

Thanks for the reviews and favs and whathaveyou! They're always super, duper appreciated!

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I'm stationed in an arm chair similar to the one my father carried into our new house's living room only about a week ago; only this chairs fabric doesn't feel as comfortable as the one back home, but I'm not going to complain. By the way my mother is sitting stiffly next to me, flipping through a magazine with some woman I've never seen before on the cover, I can tell she probably doesn't want to have to listen to me complain right now.

On the short drive to this place she referred to as "the dentist office", I had been asking questions a mile per minute. I discovered this wasn't the best idea however because, one, my mother is definitely not a morning person and it had been around eight in the morning when she ushered me into the family car; and two, she still has yet to lock eyes with me for more than five seconds. So, as we approached a stop light in town and I asked her what all the names for all the different types of teeth are, she kind of… well, I think I struck a nerve, because she made me promise not to say another word, unless asked, for the rest of our outing. In the end, this is a miracle, because, if I were to have continued to talk, I may have let last Thursday's incident spill.

Emma had been persistent on telling our parents about my "little episode", as we like to call it now, but I fought against this. Yes, I may have blacked out. Yes, I may have seen things I don't understand. And yes, I may have been in excruciating pain. After applying the ice pack and taking a short nap though, I can say I felt completely better, as if it had never even happened. It's not like it's happened again or anything either, so I honestly just didn't see the point in worrying them.

In the end, we agreed that, if something like that were to happen again, we would tell. Until then, they don't need to know.

At exactly eight thirty, a young woman with lots of blonde hair pulled into a bun on top of her head pushes through a door on the other side of the room and says, "Overland?" I assume this is me by the way my mother places the magazine she had been reading down on the table next to her and gets up. I trail after her like a duckling through the "waiting room" - or something like that; I can't quite remember what my mother called it when I asked - and into a long, narrow hallway.

The young woman - her name tag reads Cindy, so I assume this is her name - leads us into the third doorway on the right, looking directly at me as she asks me to take a seat in the chair. This said chair, I'm not going to lie, is rather intimidating: there are white pipe structures perturbing off of it, a small tray filled with instruments that remind me too much of my stay in the hospital. There's even a sink attached to it, and that's just baffling, because why would that need to be there?

"Come on then," I hear my mother say, beckoning me towards the chair, sounding somewhat impatient. "I still need to drop you off at home before getting to work. We need to go." She takes her own seat in a chair similar to the ones out in the waiting room, positioned in the corner of the room.

I look at Cindy, and she returns my look with a smile. I decide to trust her. Besides. I don't think I really have a choice.

After taking a seat in the odd chair, Cindy presses a button on the armrest and the whole structure begins to recline. I must have looked rather alarmed by this, because my mother shoots me a look that has "act normal!" written all over it, so I obey by pretending I'm yawning.

For the next couple of minutes, Cindy does some poking around in my mouth with some of her tools. There is some momentary pain as the sharp end of one of the instruments scraps what I think is called my "gums", but I suck it up. My mother had told me that whatever they may do to me here may hurt a bit, so it's not like I wasn't warned.

Cindy, now done with poking around in my mouth, tells my mother what I guess is information about my teeth, but I'm too busy studying the tooth diagram on the wall next to me to hear any of it. Apparently the very center of the tooth is referred to as the "pulp", which I also have heard is the name for the center of an egg. I wonder if the two have anything in common, though I seriously doubt it, seeing as there doesn't seem to be any other similarities between a tooth and an egg. I try to remind myself to ask Emma about it when I get home.

As I continue to observe the poster, Cindy gets up, removing the plastic gloves from her hands, and leaves the room. I look over at my mother.

"Where is she going?" I ask.

My mother shoots me a look, like she's reminding me that I promised I wouldn't say anything. To my surprise though, she answers. "That was just the nurse. The real dentist is coming in shortly to give you an x-ray and clean your teeth."

I nod my head, confirming I understand. On the inside though, I'm jumping around in my seat. An x-ray! I get to have an x-ray taken! And of my mouth! Emma had told me about these things when we were playing Scrabble I think, and I've been curious to what it must be like to get one.

After a couple more minutes of silence, a man whose hair is the color of ash and skin is an exotic light brown steps through the threshold, snapping on some plastic gloves a lot like Cindy's. He sports a white coat, the top button left undone, a pair of thin-framed glasses, and a small name tag with the name Dr. Farry printed neatly on its sleek surface.

"Hello, Jack," he greets with a smile. His teeth probably have to be the whitest and straightest set of teeth I've ever set eyes on, but I suppose that is a given, considering his is a dentist. "My nurse tells me that you have absolutely stunning teeth. Mind if I take a look for myself?"

"Will I be getting an x-ray?" I ask before thinking.

I can see my mother about to speak up, likely to tell the dentist she's "sorry for my behavior", but Dr. Farry beats her by saying, "Of course! Right after I take a quick look, okay?" He shoots me a warm smile, and I have a hard time not returning it before opening my mouth for him.

Dr. Farry ohh's and ahh's over my teeth for a good minute, going on about how I must brush and floss at least three times a day to be able to obtain such pearly whites - which is true, I do, once after every meal. His odd vocabulary and interest in my teeth makes it impeccably hard for me to not burst out laughing, but I fight it.

Getting the x-ray comes and goes a lot faster than I had been expecting it to happen, and this leaves me feeling a tad disappointed, but not enough to ruin the rest of my appointment with Dr. Farry, who turns out to be a rather interesting guy. Despite my mother's earlier wishes, I strike up a conversation with the dentist rather quickly, which is proven an easy task since he appears to already have a natural ability to make small talk. I ignore my mother's narrowed eyes as I tell Dr. Farry about little snippets from my everyday life that he, for whatever reason, finds amusing. I do, however, stay away from topics concerning my memory loss and such related subjects, since I've learned to believe that those aren't the kinds of things you talk to with total strangers.

All the conversation makes the appointment go quickly, and it seems like only a couple minutes has passed since we started as Dr. Farry snaps off his gloves and mask and tells me, "Well, you're all good to go, Jack. It was nice meeting you. As of you, Mrs Overland." My mother gives him a strained smile as I say it was nice meeting him as well, but he doesn't seem to notice it. "Paula should be up front at the check-out table. She'll deal with your payment."

My mother and I get up from our chairs, my mother saying, "Alright. Thank you, Dr. Farry, for your time." She then turns to face me and mouths out words I am barely able to catch.

I turn towards Dr. Farry after a beat. "Yes! Thank you." I glimpse over towards my mother, maybe hoping for a satisfied nod or anything showing her approval for following her directions, but she's already heading out the doorway behind Dr. Farry. I fight to let out a sigh as I follow them.

As my mother converses with this young black-haired woman named Paula about our payment for the visit, I stand a decent distance away from them, near where two small water fountains are planted on the wall. Money and business talk, I've discovered, isn't very appealing to me. I'm about to take a drink from the fountains though when I notice out of the corner of my eyes, a pair of small eyes staring at me from around the corner. As my eyes met with them and I shoot them a smile, the head they belong to darts out of view behind the wall.

"Hello," I say softly, so my mother doesn't hear. "You don't have to be scared. I'm a friend."

The eyes pop back into view, only this time I can also see a button nose and a pair of lips. "You're not my friend," they tell me before disappearing around the corner again.

I'm a little taken aback by this comment as I bend down on to my knees. "Why am I not your friend?"

The head doesn't come into view this time as I hear, "Because I don't even know you!"

"Well… do you want to know me?"

All I can hear for a moment are the noises coming from the tools being used by the other dentists in the rooms down the hallway, footsteps and chatter accompany it. I'm about to get back up and wander over towards my mother again when I see a small girl wearing a magenta colored dress and a large green flower in her wavy, ash brown hair, appear from around the corner. She's carrying a stuffed, blue rabbit in her arms as she approaches me, still crouched down on the floor.

Once she's standing in front of me, I say, with a smile, "I'm Jack." It's then that I notice that one of her eyes is a vivid light blue and the other is a surprisingly light pink. I wasn't even aware pink could be someone's eye color.

"I'm Aly," she tells me. "And this is Bunnymund." She lifts her stuffed rabbit for me to see.

"He's cute," I say with a smirk. "Where'd you get him?"

"My sissy's friend gave 'im to me for my…" She stops and pulls up her small hand, counting her fingers slowly, as not to mess up. "My fifth birthday, I think."

"That was sweet of them," I say. "How old are you?"

"Eight."

"My little sister's nine."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe you can come over and play with her someday."

She nods her head, a small grin her face. "Does she have a stuffed bunny toy too?"

I think for a moment, trying to recall all the stuffed animals littering Emma's bedroom floor. I want to tell the little girl that I recall seeing one, but I can't be sure.

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "But she has a lot of other toys too. And she knows magic tricks."

Aly smiles at this, her eyes seeming to glow at the mention of the word magic. "Do you know magic tricks?"

"Yeah, I do," I tell her, sneakily sticking my hand into my front pocket. To my pleasure, she doesn't seem to notice me doing this. "Emma taught me one just the other day."

"Who's Emma?"

"My sister."

"Oh. Well… can I see it?"

"Sure Just… w-wait a second." I move a little closer to her, squinting my eyes, as if searching for something. "Is that… I think there's something in your ear, Aly?"

Her hands both dart up to her ears, Bunnymund being lifted lazily up in front of me. There's a slight panicked expression crossing her face as I tell her it's okay.

"Don't worry, don't worry," I assure her. "I'll got it." I reach out, gently move her hand away from her ear, and cup my hand around it instead. Once I pull away, I open my hand to reveal a small dime sitting in my palm, glistening under the florescent lights above us.

"How did you do that?"

I look up and Aly is wearing the biggest grin, showing off two missing side teeth on either side of her mouth. Her heterochromatic eyes are glowing again as she continues to stare at me for an answer. Grabbing her small hand, I drop the dime into her possession.

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

As the little girl drops the coin into her dress's pocket, still smiling at me, I hear someone from down an adjacent hallway call out her name. She hears it too by the way she looks over her shoulder, the smile whipped clean off her face. That's when I realize that I don't even know where this little girl came from. All the children that are patients here were outside in the waiting room, yet Aly was already back here, not accompanied by an adult of any kind. I wonder why that is.

"Someone's looking for you?" I ask her.

"Yeeeeah," she goes with a sigh. "My big sissy. I was supposed to stay with her, but she got boring."

I smile at this. "Well, you better go back to her. Don't want her to-"

I'm not able to finish my sentence when I see a girl, maybe around my age, appear in the doorway behind Aly. At seeing her bright pink eyes and the similar hair color to the little girl standing in front of me, I'm instantly able to connect the dots that this must be the "big sissy" Aly was telling me about.

"Aly!" the girl says, letting the name out along with a sigh of relief. "I told you to not wander off like that! Dad doesn't want you getting lost."

"But I'm not lost!" Aly protests, tightening her grasp around Bunnymund. "I'm with Jack!"

The girl makes eye contact with me as I straighten up, now able to see all the different shade of pink in her mesmerizing eyes. In that moment, I realize that this girl, with her wavy, ash colored hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail and light chocolate colored skin, is the first girl my age that I've ever seen.

"Who are you?" is all she asks me.

"He's Jack!" Aly speaks up before I can. "He's my friend! He showed me magic. See?" Aly pulls out the dime I had given to her earlier and presents it to her sister with pride. "He pulled it outta my ear!"

To my surprise, the tense, older girl lets out a laugh, allowing her shoulders to relax. "Oh, did he now?" she asks, giving me this look that I wasn't particularly ready for. "Are you some sort of magician then, Jack?" she asks me, and all I can do is shrug in response; I get the feeling that the mediocre amount of words that I do know would fail me at this point.

Aly is telling her sister about what I did and how amazing it was when I see it. Sitting on the collarbone of the older girl, held up by a single thread of string, sits a tooth, about the size of a pinky nail. It's stunningly white against her dark skin, and oddly clean, since I've heard that, after pulling out a tooth, they're usually covered in blood and gum. As I stare at the little pendant, a memory registers in my mind; no, not one from before the accident that whipped my memories clean, but from one of my earlier memories with Emma in the hospital.

"Are you the tooth fairy?" I ask.

The older girl's pink eyes land on me again, her smile fading.

"E-excuse me?" she asks.

I point at her necklace charm. "You have a tooth on your necklace," I tell her. "I just thought… I… uh…" Suddenly, I'm at a loss for words. Ugh, why did I even say anything? I know I'm not good with words, so why did I even bother to speak up? I should've just said bye to Aly and wandered back over to my mother. Now this girl probably thinks I'm weird for, one, staring at her necklace, and two, asking her if she's the tooth fairy.

"No, she's not the tooth fairy!" Aly finally says, breaking the silence. "That'd be cool though. Then I could have all the money I want when I lose my teeth!"

The girl looks down at her little sister, obviously still trying to compute what I had said to her. "Yeah. No. I, uh… I'm not the, uh… the tooth fairy."

"Oh," is all I'm able to say. "I, um… yeah. I… hi. I'm Jack."

Wow. Just… wow.

The girl smiles though, which eases the inner pain I'm conflicted on myself. "Hi, Jack," she says back. "Thanks for, uh, giving my sis a dime. She loves money. And magic."

"Same here," I say. "I mean, the magic part. Not as much of fan for the, uh… for the money… part..."

I'm about to ask her what her name is, since it seems like the kind of question one would ask at about this point in a conversation - if that's even what we're having, which I can't really tell - but I'm not able to when I hear someone calling my name behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see my mother, giving me this look that shows that she's upset; her arms are crossed as her purse hangs lazily from over her shoulder. She cocks her head towards the door, signaling that we need to leave.

I look back at the girls. "I got to go. It was, uh… it was nice meeting you two."

"Bye, Jack!" Aly waves to me as I back towards the exit of the office. "Thanks for the dime!"

As I wave to her, the older girl looks awkwardly down at the ground. I don't even bother to say goodbye to her; she probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo.

"Have fun?" my mother asks me with an edgy tone as we leave the office, clearly not happy with how I spent my last couple of minutes. She had strictly told me not to talk to anyone during this outing - had even made me promise - and I had broken it.

Hey though. I got a new friend - yeah, so what if she's only eight, it still counts - and I believe that's worth risking everything for.

I smile brightly at her. "Yes. Yes, I did."

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I hadn't thought I was going to take a bike ride today; I usually don't after having to mow lawns for four hours, but I'm just so filled up with anger right now that I needed to get out of the house.

Today revealed to be sort of a crappy day, not going to lie. Fish was late picking me up due to getting held up at home by his parents, who nagged at him for forgetting to let Meatlug, their pet bulldog, out the night before, resulting in her pooping all over their living room's new carpet. Because of our lateness, Gobber wasn't all too happy to have a ten minute late start, along with all the other guys, who continually shoot us glares while we were being dropped off at our house. While at our first house, I discovered that Lout is one of our clients the hard way: as he was leaving to go out, he threw what appeared to be a baseball under my lawn mower, therefore absolutely ruining it beyond repair. So not only did I have to borrow Mister Jorgenson's personal lawn mower, which was super embarrassing in itself, but I also owe Gobber a good two hundred bucks for something I didn't even break. Then, while at The Ring for lunch with Fish afterwards, I accidentally bumped straight into Astrid after leaving the restroom, causing the huge grease monster she was carrying on her tray to splat on to her uniform's front. She was so pissed off afterwards, she won't even make eye contact with me when I ordered my lunch.

And now I have to deal with this. Right when I thought that being under the roof of my very own house meant that the cruel tricks of the world couldn't reach me, my dad had to walk in and make everything worse by bringing up my future and what I plan on doing with my life.

"You spend all your free time working on and riding that bike," he had told me. "Don't you want to do something more… productive with your time, son?"

We have had this conversation a million times before, but today's argument wasn't like the rest, not really. Normally I'm able to just throw my arms into the air once I've at enough and storm off to lock myself in the room for the rest of the evening, but not this time. This time, my dad actually followed me upstairs and into my room, still going on and on about how I'm "the future for the company" and how I need to "get my head screwed on straight if I want to be successful with taking his place one day", which caused Toothless, the poor guy, to scamper into my bathroom out of fear.

"But what if I don't want to take your place in the company?" I threw at him. "Have you ever once stopped and thought about what I want to do with my life, not what you want me to do?"

I got him with that. I guess he hadn't really thought of what I want to do, which, to me, was just the most upsetting thing to find out.

Not once in my entire life have I ever shown any interest in the family business, not once. While growing up, all I ever did with my time was draw and write stories and play with my limited number of friends outside, usually playing pretend games. Now, as a teenager, I'm still not showing any interest in what he wants me to do, so why can't the guy just take a hint?

I notice I've picked up speed as I reach the rural portion of town, the nicely paved roads bleeding into rough and rocky dirt ones. I pull on my brakes a little to slow down. Don't want to take another spill on this road, like this one time in seventh grade. The gashes caused by little rocks piercing into my skin and the later scars are definitely not worth it.

Why can't my dad just be okay with what I want to do? Why can't he just accept that fact that I don't want to be heir to his company? I mean, yeah, I know I'm kind of expected to take over once he leaves, considering I am his only son, but that's not my fault; I didn't ask to be an only child, now did I?

I lean forward the rest my head on my bike's handlebars. The road ahead goes on straight for some time, so no need to worry about unexpected turns.

And then my dad mentioned something about someone coming over for dinner sometime this week? Yeah, that was weird. We never have anyone over, and if we do, it's Gobber, and even then, my dad doesn't tell me about it. When Gobber shows up at our place, it's understood that, well, he's there. No big deal; he's like an extended part of the family, really.

Who in the world though could be coming over for dinner with us? My dad doesn't really have any friends, besides Gobber, of course. And even if he did, he wouldn't go out of his way to warn me about it.

Ugh, this is all too frustrating. Everything about this day just sucks really, really bad.

I decide to pull over, realizing that I was drifting off the road before roughly pulling myself back on course. Getting off my bike, I look around for a place to just rest for a while before having to get headed back home for what I expect to be a very uncomfortable dinner. I notice an old pine tree a couple of yards away off the side of the road, it's branches starting a good ten feet above the ground and sprawling out in all directions. There's not a single soul in sight, so I start heading towards it.

After placing my bike gently against the trunk of the pine and collapsing alongside it, I allow myself to close my eyes and just listening to my breathing. The sun is on the opposite side of the sky, so no need to worry about squinting or sweating up a puddle, and the slight breeze moving around me feels nice and relaxing - just what I needed. I lean my head back further, my eyes still closed as my body moves down the trunk into a somewhat reclined position. Now that I think about it, I should just stay here. Yeah, my dad'll be pissed as all hell, but this is just so nice, sitting under this tree by myself, away from all my worries and-

I hear a rustle in the leaves overhead, and my eyes snap open to come face to face with a thin, white haired boy sitting in the branches above me.

He raises his hand from his side. "Hi."

"Uh… hey?" I say back slowly. "Whatcha, uh… doin' up there?"

"Hiding from my mom," the boy tells me, his eyes, which I notice are a piercing blue, still looking down at me.

"O-oh?"

"Well, I'm not really hiding," he goes on, correcting himself. "She doesn't know I'm gone, which means she can't really be looking for me, so I don't think that would really mean I'm hiding. Or at least I don't think so…" He stops and seems to really be thinking this over as I stand back up in order to see him better.

"Why are you hiding from her exactly?" I decide to ask.

"She's upset with me."

"For doing what?"

"Honestly… I don't really know. I think I broke some of her rules. I don't know. She can be really strict."

"Sounds like it."

"What about you?" he asks me, this little grin appearing on his face, showing me a set of teeth almost as white as his hair. "What are you doing way out here by yourself?"

I don't answer him right away, because why would I? Hell, I don't even know who this kid is. Why would I tell him my business of being here? Then again… talking with someone that doesn't know my situation may be beneficial; I may be able to get a lot off my chest this way; and by looking at his face, which is just giving off the vibe of genuinely wanting to know why I'm here, I feel the urge to actually explain myself.

"I guess I'm kind of hiding from my dad," I tell him. "Except, like you, I'm not really hiding."

"Ahhh," the boy goes, nodding his head. "Did you break some of his rules too?"

"I… guess?"

"What did you do?"

I don't know what it is, but after hearing him ask me this, I suddenly start to regret striking up a conversation with this weird, white haired stranger - who's sitting in a tree, let me point out. Despite how I felt the urge to talk to him only seconds ago, I don't feel much like explaining my entire situation to him anymore, because who would want to sit through something like that anyways? Pfft, I most definitely wouldn't, that's for sure.

"I, uh…. who… who are you… exactly?"

The boy doesn't seem to notice the sudden change of topic, much to my relief. "Oh!" he goes in response instead, an even larger grin than before making its way into his pale face. "I'm Jack!"

"Uh… okay. Hi, Jack."

"Hi!"

We continue to look at each other, Jack's blue eyes staring into mine, and I begin to feel quite uncomfortable, to say the least. What is it with this kid? You don't just stare at people like that. Then again, I am kind of staring at him too, sooo…

"Listen, uh… I should probably get going," I tell him, breaking the awkward - at least from my side - eye contact and reaching for my bike lying on the tree beside me. "My dad's probably expecting me home soon for dinner and I don't want to-"

"Actually!" Jack interrupts, cutting me off mid-sentence. I look up, and instead of wearing that grin from before, he's features appear to give off more of a nervous expression. "I was wondering if you could help me down…"

I stop reaching for my bike and look back up at him, a look of disbelief on my face, no doubt. "You want me to help you down? From this tree?"

He nods.

"Don't you… you don't know how to get down?"

Now looking a little embarrassed, he shakes his head.

"How did you even get up there to begin with then, man?"

He just shrugs down at me. "I don't know. I just climbed, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"And you didn't once stop to think about how you'd be getting down from there?"

He opens his mouth, but stops before the words come out, appearing to be rethinking his answer. "Nnnnnnnnno," he finally says, slowly. "I didn't."

I can't help but let out a dry chuckle. "Well, you've really got yourself into quite a predicament here, now haven't you?"

"A what?"

"Huh?"

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"A… whatever you said. A predica-whata-what."

"A predicament?"

"Yeah."

At this point, I really can't help but stare up at him. Does he seriously not know what a predicament is? I mean, I can get some people having never heard of the word before, but those people probably consist of little kids and people just learning English with small vocabularies. This Jack guy here appears to be older than me, so I wonder what his excuse is.

"It's, like… a problem. You've got yourself into some real trouble here, y'know?" I explain. By his expression and his "ooooooooh!", I'm able to assume he gets what I've told him.

"But can you help me?" he asks, and by the tone in his voice, I can tell he really means it; this kid seriously doesn't know how to get down from this tree.

I shrug. "I guess you can just jump or something."

"Y-you think?" He sounds uneasy by this plan of action.

I put my hands up. "I don't know what else to tell ya, man. I'd jump if I were you though. It really isn't that far of a drop."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Go for it, I say."

"O-okay." He scoots a little off the edge of the thick branch he's perched on and looks down at the ground, where I'm standing. By the way his eyes grow wide, I can tell he's not really feeling my plan.

"Don't look down," I say up to him. "It'll make it less scary."

Jack nods and looks away from the ground, closing his eyes shortly afterwards. Before I can ask him if he's going to do it or not, since he's just kind of sitting there with his eyes closed, he's falling, and the next thing I know, he's on the ground, knees and hands pressed up against the grass.

"Oh gods! Are you okay?" I ask hurriedly, running up to his side as he removes his hands from the ground, resting on his knees. The little strands of green stand out astonishingly well against his white pigment; I have to fight the urge to let out a snicker, which makes me feel slightly bad.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures me with a smile, rubbing some of the grass embedded on his hands off and back on to the ground. I help him up, finding out that he stands a good head taller than me.

"You sure?" I pester onward, noticing the small cuts on his knees. "Looks like you got some-"

"Wooooah! Is that yours?" he asks me, ripping his arm from my grasp and approaching the bike.

"Uh… yeah."

"This is so cool! Where'd you get it?"

"A… bike… store…?"

"Oh." He crouches down in front of the bike and begins to inspect it, poking the tire and many spokes gingerly with his white finger. I can't help but think that maybe this is the first time this kid's ever really seen a bike, which I know sounds absolutely ridiculous, but man, he didn't know what a predicament was.

His white hair whips around so that he's facing me again. "I think I have one of these things too," he tells me, a large smile on his face. It's then that I notice that, dang, this kid's got some really blue eyes. Like, I thought they were blue before when he was up in that tree, but now.

"Oh yeah?" I go, ripping my gaze from his eyes.

"Yeah." He jumps up, making me move back some. This kid's so bouncing and fast; I feel like he's going to fall over and on top of me or something if he makes one misstep. "Want to go see it? My house is just down there. It's not really that far away. We can walk together!"

His question catches me completely off guard. Is he… he's really asking me, a completely and utter stranger, to come to his house so he can show me his bike? Is that kid for real?

I guess he notices the discomfort on my face, because he licks his lips and says, "It really isn't that far. And, well… I don't know much about bikes. And you seem to, so..."

I don't know what it is, but the good person inside of me sees pass the whole him being a stranger that has white hair, impossibly blue eyes, and skin the color of snow. I mean, yeah, the kid's a little weird with his extreme enthusiasm leaking from his smile and his social awkwardness, but he is pretty much begging me - in a very subtle way - to join him at his house to check out his bike, and why should I complain or say no to that? He wants to talk bikes, which, last time I checked, is my second language. If anything, I should be thrilled to have someone that wants to get my opinion on something like this.

I grab my bike's handlebars and shoot him a smile. "Lead the way."

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.

This tiny, green eyed boy with more freckles on his face than I can count tells me his name is Hiccup, and I almost completely lose it. Emma's told me that there are some people out there with very odd names, some even unpronounceable, but Hiccup? Hiccup? I have to cover my mouth with my hand after he tells me this bit of information, fearing that he'd hear my laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh if you must," I hear him tell me with a smirk on his face, his bike by his side as we make our way down the dirt road towards my house. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"That isn't your real name, is it?" I ask, removing my hand from my mouth.

"Nah," he says. "You think my parents would actually name me that?"

"I don't know. They could, if they wanted to."

"Well, they didn't, thank the gods."

I laugh as I see the house coming into view. "What did they name you?"

"Hey, isn't that your place?" he asks, changing the subject rather abruptly. I don't point it out though, because if he doesn't want to talk about his name - like he didn't want to talk about why he was way out here in the middle of nowhere earlier when I asked - then that's fine by me. Everyone's entitled to their own business, right?

"Yep, that's the place!" I tell him, throwing my arms up. "We moved in just a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"I mowed your lawn the day you guys moved in," he explains to me. "My friend thought you having white hair was the weirdest thing. Why is it white anyways? Do you dye it?"

I shrug, ignoring the word "dye", which I don't know the meaning of. "I came with it."

"Sooooo, what? Are you, like, albino or something?"

"Al-what?"

"It's… nevermind."

We continue up the rugged driveway, his bike bouncing slightly in his hands as we go. I feel the compelling urge to be asking him something, carrying our conversation forward, but nothing seems to come to mind. I decide to stay quiet, since I've noticed that when the words don't naturally come to me, I usually end up saying something wrong.

As we approach the garage door, I tell him we're going to have to lift it, since my father has yet to install the "remote control" or something that makes it open up with a click of a button. Hiccup grabs the left side, almost losing his grip the first time around, as I grab the right. On the count of three, we both heave the door open, causing it to slide on to the ceiling of the garage.

"Alright," I hear him go, dusting off his hands on his shirt and looking at the watch on his wrist. "Let's see this bike of yours. I need to be heading home soon anyways, so…"

Giving him a quick nod, I make my way over towards the bike rack in the corner of the garage, my eyes landing and locked on a white and blue one that caught my attention when my father was carrying it in a couple of weeks ago. I hear Hiccup approach me from behind as I lift it from its supports and lower it to the concrete floor. I'm about to tell him that, yep, this is it, but I'm cut off by him letting out a sharp gasp.

"Is that… no," he says under his breath, his eyes large and round like the snow globe in my room as his hand shoots up to cover his mouth. "That can't be..." I give him a confused look, and he his eyes grow even wider at this. "Are you… are you telling me you're not aware of the kind of bike you're holding on to right now?"

I look down at the bike; it's a basic paper white with electric blue outlining its limbs, a black TREK written down the middle bar. I want to say I see something special about it, considering Hiccup here definitely does, but I'd be lying if I did. To me, it just looks like any other bike.

"That," Hiccup goes, walking up to me on the other side of the bike and touching the handlebar, "is a Trek Madone 7.7." Crouching down, he seems to be inspecting the bike further, his eyes gawking at everything between the cushioned seat to the sturdy handlebars, running his fingers down the spokes and on to the tires. "Wow. What a beauty."

"So… this is a special bike?" I ask, crouching down beside him, seeing him through the spokes in the tire.

He shoots me another shocked look, like he honestly cannot believe I don't know the worth of this bike. "Is this… you're kidding me. Do you even know much a bike like this costs?"

I shake my head.

"Like… eight thousand dollars, man."

"Is that a lot?"

As he gives me that shocked look again, I can't help but try to hide a smile. I figured this guy liked bikes, but I wasn't aware he likes them this much.

"Let me put this into perspective for you," he says, getting up and walking over towards his bike leaning against the wall. "My bike here costs me a good, eh… four fifty? Somewhere around there. That bike you're holding is worth, like… something like… eighteen, nineteen times more than what I paid for mine."

I stare blankly at him, not fully understanding what all these confusing numbers really have to do with his and my bike.

"Your bike's cost is the equivalent to, like… a nice, small, new car!"

"Oh! Oh, wow."

"Exactly! Gods, your parents must be loaded or something."

"I don't know. We have nice stuff, but I don't think we're, like… rich or anything."

"Well, whatever you guys are, this is a nice bike."

As I get back up from crouching and look down at the bike, I can't help but wonder: why? This bike looks almost the same as his; his is just somewhat smaller, and the handlebars and seat are both shaped differently, and the colors are both polar opposites, mine white, his black. Other than those few details though, I don't see much of a difference.

"Where in the world did you even get something like that, man?"

"It's my father's," I tell him. "But he said I can have it now. I think he used to race it."

"No shit," Hiccup walks back up the bike and touches the handlebars again, still seeming to be taking it all in. "I hope he was some sort of professional biker or something, because this is definitely a professional's bike. Would've been a total waste of money if he didn't race it, y'know."

I respond with a shrug, since I honestly don't know. I've never bothered to ask my father why we have a decent handful of nice bikes locked up in the garage.

Hiccup looks down at his watch then and grimaces. "I should probably head back home," he tells me, patting my bike's handlebar's one last time before going back over to his bike. "Gettin' kinda late, and I need to be home before it gets dark."

"Oh. O-okay, yeah," I go, leaning my bike against the wall. "If you ever want to, you know… come back over, feel free to! You could tell me some more about my 'incredible bike' or whatever."

I don't know why, but he gives me this uneasy look as he attempts to return my smile. "Yeah… I'll, uh… I'll keep that mind. Thanks…"

"Okay. I'll see you around then!"

He returns my farewell with a simple wave as he turns, picks up his bike, and kicks off the ground, rolling down my driveway. As he goes though, I notice something about the boy that I didn't catch before; his left leg, instead of being a tanned peach color and made of flesh, like the rest of him, is made of what appears to be metal. I'm just standing there, staring after him, jaw dropped, trying to figure out how I should feel about this. I've never heard of someone having a metal leg before… maybe Emma knows a thing or two about it.

Looking back up, letting the fascination with Hiccup's metal leg, I watch his small silhouette disappear down the street and out of sight.

Well. That didn't go too badly, right?