A/N Please review! Remember, reviews=motivation=updates. How do you think this should end?

On January 5, 2012, Ella was busy taking down the Christmas garland that hung over the mantle when Byron walked into the living room.

"Where's Mike?" he asked.

"Across the street with Gavin," answered Ella as she struggled to reach to where the garland had been secured.

"Let me get that," said Byron helping her.

"Thanks," said Ella sighing in relief.

"It was a good Christmas this year," began Byron as he dragged Ella over to sit next to him on the sofa.

"It was," responded Ella, resting her back on her husband's chest. "If only we didn't have to clean up in January."

He kissed her forehead. "Why didn't you get Aria to help you while I was at work?"

"She's at Ezra's," explained Ella. "She said that they were talking about a book or something. Something that didn't have to do with class." She felt Byron stiffen next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not comfortable with her spending so much time at Ezra's," answered Byron, looking out the window.

Ella sighed. "Their relationship has been kind of erratic lately, but they've always been good friends. I don't see why they should stop that now."

"He's her teacher now," exclaimed Byron expressively.

Ella rubbed a soothing hand over her husband's chest. "And?"

"And," Byron's face began to turn a peculiar shade of pink, "she's not a little girl anymore."

"No, she's not," Ella admitted.

"You're not worried?" he asked.

"I am a little bit," she said. "I always thought of him as her brother, as a nephew or son to me. But that doesn't mean she's him like that."

"He's nine years older than she is," said Byron in a worried, frantic tone.
"And you're five years older than me," responded Ella. "And Elliot was twelve years older than Anne. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," he shook his head. "The Springers had been married for so long that it didn't seem to matter what their ages were."

"You see?" said Ella. "All things might turn out well."

"She's seventeen," began Byron again.

"Anne was sixteen," shot back Ella, "when they got married. I was twenty-one when we did."

"But he's her teacher," protested Byron.

"But he won't always be here teacher," stated Ella calmly. Byron was silent as the couple sat there. "Sometimes these things happen," Ella offered up lamely.

"Do you think it's happening now?" Byron winced.

"I don't know. But Aria is the age of consent." She deliberately left the last statement ambiguous.

"He's her teacher," Byron started up again.

"For now," responded Ella. Next door Aria and Ezra were sitting in his living room. They had been reading, but they had stopped staring at their respective books a long time ago. This time, the curtains were securely closed as Ezra and Aria cuddled next to each other.

On January 10 school started up again after a long Christmas break, and Hanna who had spent the holidays with her father in Maryland looked absolutely frazzled as she walked in the school doors that morning.

"What's wrong?" asked Emily as she grabbed books from her locker.

"Kate," ground out Hanna. "She's coming here."

"Wait," began Spencer. "Your stepsister's coming here? Rosewood here or school here?"

"Both," said Hanna looking into her compact mirror. "Ugh. I look like I haven't slept for a week."

"Have you?" asked Aria.

"No," responded Hanna shutting her mirror with a snap. "What about you guys? You don't look like the holiday spirit showered you with peace to the world."

"Melissa eloped," stated Spencer calmly.

"With who?" asked Aria.

"Ian Thomas."

"Isn't Ian the one who kissed you?"

"Yes," said Spencer shortly. She began to flip through her English textbook. "Melissa is going all housewife and saying that she wants a baby." Spencer looked up. "Something's not right."

"Aria?" probed Hanna, "What's wrong with you?"

Aria sighed and shut her locker with a resounding thud. "My mom has been asking questions about me and Ezra."

"What have you said?" asked Spencer.

"The usual. That we're just reconnecting after being gone such a long time, that I understand he's my teacher now and we need to be respectful of one another, that kind of thing."

"Do you think she knows?" asked Hanna.

Aria shook her head. "If she knew, we would all know."

"Emily, are you okay?" Spencer looked to where her friend leaned against the wall, deadly silent since they began talking.

"My mom," she whispered. "She found weed in Maya's bag. Maya went off to some kind of juvy camp."

"I am so sorry, Em," breathed Aria, giving her friend a hug.

"She'll be back in three months," said Emily hopefully.

"And you'll be waiting for her," replied Hanna. Suddenly, the bell rang and the foursome picked up their bags and headed to Ezra's classroom. Ezra didn't call on Hanna or Aria or Emily that day, sensing that something was wrong with them. On the other hand, he noticed that Spencer was particularly attentive, throwing all of her energy into her schoolwork.

"When did things become so complicated?" wrote Aria in her journal. She had gotten a new one for Christmas. Ezra had given it to her. It was made out of green leather, and it smelled like him. When she was done with her entry for the day, she hugged it close to her and breathed in his scent.

That Friday, on January 15, Ezra broke off from the scheduled curriculum and gave an unusual assignment.

"We've spent a lot of time talking about growing up and loss of innocence this year," he began, leaning against his desk. "I want to take some time to talk about how growing up affects us personally. Today, I want you to take out a clean sheet of paper and spend the period writing about your own lives. Write about whatever you want, but you must turn it in at the end of the period. Any questions?"

When he was met with silence, he sat back in his desk chair and silently watched his students. Some of them, like Holden, stared at the paper and wrote very slowly what they wanted to say. Others, like Emily, wrote furiously, pouring their energy into their words. He was surprised that Spencer wasn't among these students. He looked to where she was in the corner desk. She wrote carefully and concisely. She was being thoughtful. Mona and Hanna scribbled something on their papers at the end of the period, so they would have something to turn in. When the bell rang, his students exited the classroom, placing their notebook papers on his desk as they did so.

Ezra read the essays during his free period. He was surprised to see that Hanna's half-page of writing contained some particularly insightful thoughts, among them was statement that said: Growing up is easy. It's accepting change that's the hard part.

He saved Aria's essay for last, so that he could enjoy what she had to say without worrying about the other students' papers. He read:

I don't know what to write. There are some things that cannot be expressed in complete thoughts, in words. There are other things that only words can give meaning to. I have always thought that words had infinite power, and I think, to an extent, I am right. I understand now how right I was, but I also understand how naïve I was to think those things. Words have the ability to express abstract sentiments like love. It easy to tell someone "I love you." However, although those words can be said, can be expressed, you can never really tell another person what it is like to feel those feelings and to have those emotions. They are unique to an individual. This is my dilemma. I can say I love you, but those words are empty if the other person does not truly understand how I feel. The bell is going to ring soon, and I don't want to leave this incomplete, so I'll end with this: Words are inadequate to express my emotions, but still I will write things like I love you because there is no other way to tell you how I feel.

Ezra breathed in sharply and set the page down on his desk. He stared at it intently, worried that it would bite him. He sat there for five minutes, ten minutes. Time seemed irrelevant. So, he knew how she felt. How did he feel?

The next day, January 16, he saw Aria sitting by her bedroom window. He knew that she was watching him, and he knew that she knew that he was watching him back. He let the curtain fall into place over his window, shutting out her view of his home. He soundlessly walked up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat on his bed and looked around the room.

She had been in here once. She had touched the quilt and looked at the figurine. She seemed to like the color of the walls. She hadn't looked into his bathroom or rifled through his drawers. He supposed she didn't need to. She already knew who he was and what he blamed himself for. What would the room look like if she put her clothes in the drawers and her warmth on her side of the bed?

He couldn't picture it just yet. Reluctantly, Ezra got up from his perch and made his way to the attic. It was cold and slightly damp. He shivered. He had cleaned up some of it the last year. He had found old photos and letters, and other things that he hadn't wanted to rifle through.

Carefully stepping over pieces of wood and old furniture, Ezra made his way to the far corner and grabbed a small trunk, heaving it as he carried it down the stairs. He put the dusty box in his room and rifled through it. He knew exactly what he was looking for. He searched through the leather journals until he found one with an entry dated September 6, 2005, and he focused his vision on the cursive words.

The Montgomery girl, Aria, came over here today. She asked if she could use the tree house to play in. Anne was so excited to see her that she gave her cookies and milk. The girl seemed happy enough. She's only ten. I remember when Diane was that old. There was nothing she enjoyed more than playing outside with her friends. I remember when she came home and announced she could ride a bike. She was so proud of herself. I thought Ezra might turn out the same way, but maybe boys are different from girls. Regardless, I don't think he visited when he was ten. His dad always had him at some kind of school or summer camp. He seems more bookish than Diane was. I bet he gets it from me.

He's nineteen now, a college man. I hope he does something good with his life, something wonderful. Maybe he'll marry a nice girl and give us great-grandchildren. Maybe that's just wishful thinking. I remember when my father first saw Diane, he was so careful with her. I think he was afraid he would break her. He was so sad when she died. We weren't sure who was going to go first. In the end, she beat him by two months. I know she was waiting for him by those pearly gates.

Sometimes it's good to remember the past. I think that writing it down preserves it for the future. The Montgomery girl, I've got a feeling about her, and my feelings are never wrong. It's the same kind of feeling I got about Anne in 1954. I think she's going to be a big part of our future.

Ezra looked up from the page and stared at the blank wall. Then, he deliberately dumped all the journals on the floor and started rifling through them until he found the one labeled 1954. It had been the year after his grandfather had come back from Korea, and he had returned home to Rosewood, PA. Ezra read the entire journal until he found the entry he was looking for. It was labeled August 2.

I saw her down at the grocery store. She was wearing a pink dress and helping her mother with the shopping. She smiled at me. Jonathan told me her name was Anne. That's the girl I'm going to marry. I have a feeling.

The entry was short and concise, and Ezra felt a lump forming at the back of his throat. He spent the rest of the day writing down his own thoughts about life, about love, and what they meant in relation to Aria.

On January 20, Aria returned home from Ezra's house. She looked flushed and excited, and when her mother questioned her about it, she that it was nothing more than good news Emily had texted her.

"He said he loves me!" she wrote. A smile was permanently fixed on her face for the rest of the day. At dinner that night, Ella gave her husband a knowing look, one that he refused to acknowledge.

The week passed swiftly and Aria and Ezra settled into what would become their routine for the rest of the semester. They had class together. She popped in once or twice between periods. On Wednesdays Ezra would come over for dinner. He wouldn't exactly ignore her, but he wouldn't pay undue attention to her in front of her parents. On Fridays she would sneak over to his house and they would order in and they would watch a movie. Aria spent Saturdays with her friends and he would spend it with his writing. Sundays were for sleeping, and occasionally Aria would deliberately bump into him around town. They would use it as an excuse to grab coffee or browse together in the book store.

January turned into February, and February melted into March. The days raced on ahead towards summer and Aria felt that nothing could ruin her perfectly orchestrated life. Until March 12, the first day of Spring Break, when her mother walked into her room and said, "We need to talk."