Soft blue eyes with contradicting brown hair, cropped short with layers and sweeping bangs, hands, not smooth and soft but scarred near to boyish imperfection, Jack thought she was perfect. Others have mocked those hands, not understanding what they created, the pictures they could paint even at 6 years old. Keeping his neck stiff and his eyes wide, Jack parades through the hall to the jeers of his peers. Halls were a battlefield, unpatrolled by teachers. Left, right, left, right, worn converse smacking each tile with less force than every phrase hit him with. Narcissism at its finest and she wasn't even there to block it out. Teachers were of no use, they didn't intervene when the abuse starts to play out. Gross is the oversight because how could they not notice when she stopped coming to school and Jack began arriving alone when he bothered to arrive at all. Grinding into his pale throat as people ignore him, each sightless stare driving deeper than the last, the resounding silence echoes for a short time, and then the mockery begins again. Jack would have begged in his mind to let it end, but that would be a disservice to her. Instantly, a hand closed on his shoulder. Keep calm, it whispers for his mind alone. Let me handle them for you. Even though it hurts, let me help. So the words still come more powerful than before but instead of taking the full force, she takes the most and hugs away the rest.

"Pippa," said Jack, waking up with a gasp and shudder far more powerful than his slight frame should have been capable of producing.

"This is why I don't sleep," groaned Jack softly, glaring at the darkened ceiling.

It was only his fifth week but he had lasted longer than he had thought he would. The school itself wasn't bad and he found he was actually enjoying being around people who were also talented. However, some things never changed and his avoidance of sleep was one of those things. He didn't want to dream of Before, he didn't want to remember her or his mother or anyone who belonged in his life Before.

"Go back to sleep, Jack," grumbled Aster from his bed under Jack's. "You're being loud again."

"Sorry," mumbled Jack.

Jack squirmed slightly, getting more comfortable, arms going behind his head, before he lay still to allow his bunk mate to fall back asleep. The snores of the other boys in the dorm echoed softly through the air but they were not what was keeping the boy awake. Jack simply stared into the dark, wondering why he was there, why he was letting himself get close to anyone, because he knew better. He knew how it would end. He knew a lot of things and yet, he couldn't stop letting Aster and his friends into his world slowly because while his brain knew better, the rest of him craved affection too much to deny himself that comfort any longer.

"Who's Pippa?" asked Aster suddenly.

"I thought you were sleeping," whispered Jack, his body suddenly tense.

"I was until you woke me up with your dreams and moaning about someone named Pippa," replied Aster. "So who is Pippa?"

Jack paused. He knew he was standing on the edge of a cliff with a choice. He could jump by telling Aster who Pippa was, and hope for the best. Or he could stay firmly planted on the ground, pretend he fell asleep, and let the matter drop.

"Pippa is my sister," said Jack so softly he wasn't positive he actually spoke the words aloud.

"Oh," said Aster. "I have a sister too. Her name is Sophie and she's a right little ball of energy. The little ankle biter could run a marathon-if she was coordinated enough, which she's not- and still have energy to swim the English Channel."

Silence settled in again between the two, filled up once more by snores from the rooms other occupants.

"What's she like?" asked Aster.

"She's perfect," said Jack, a small smile playing at his lips as he thought about his younger sister. "Six years old, beautiful, smart, with the cutest mess of brown hair you ever did see. Her smile could light up the sun and she thinks I hung the stars."

"Where is she now?" asked Aster.

"A little place called Rosehill," said Jack. "With my mom."

"Do you miss them?" asked Aster.

"Every day," said Jack, not mentioning that he only missed Pippa. Some days he thought he missed his mother as well but it was always a false alarm; he missed the idea of having his mother around, not his actual mother.

"Are they picking you up tomorrow for holiday?" asked Aster, who just could not seem to drop the topic. "I'd like to meet them."

"No," said Jack shortly, turning onto his side and curling into himself in a subconscious act of defense. "I'm staying here for holiday."

There was a pause as Aster digested that new information. The upcoming holiday break was all anyone had been able to talk about for the past week. The schedule had changed and this holiday was going to be three weeks long instead of the usual three or four days. Everyone was excited about going home to see their families and in all the conversations that the five friends had about their plans, Jack had not once mentioned that he was staying at school. But, now that Aster thought about it, Jack had never said he was leaving either.

"You aren't going to stay here for holiday," said Aster matter-of-factly. "You'll come home with me."

Jack didn't respond for so long that Aster thought the boy had fallen asleep again.

"Okay," whispered Jack into the darkness.

The darkness hid his smile but Aster could still feel the hope radiating off of him like sunshine and suddenly Aster couldn't help but wonder when the last time Jack had a place to actually home had been.