Young Writers Society

Brooke Kestner

Saying yes was stupid right? I mean, it was only last night that I saw him making out with some random girl at the party. Plus he brought his 10 year old sister to a high school party, and then left her! He seemed so upset with himself, but I still don’t understand why...He- He is an irresponsible distraction that I do not need, and yet...I can't stop myself from thinking about him.

I reach the wall in good time, and I come up gasping for air. However, I know that wasn't my best. I reluctantly turn my attention up. My coach stands above me. His face is concerned yet stern.

“Something wrong Kestner?” He scribbles something down on his clipboard. “You seem distracted. You’re off by a good 3 seconds, and we can’t have that.” I rip off my goggles draining the water that had collected inside.

“Sorry Coach. I was just thinking about some stupid stuff.” I looked back up at my Coach waiting for the lecture that was sure to ensue, but Coach simply clicked his pen shut and started walking off. “Coach?”

“Take the rest of the day off Kestner. I won't deal with distracted. You damn kids work to hard these days.” It wasn’t the cursing that caught me off guard, (Coach did that all the time) but it was the fact that he was so nonchalant about it. I slightly smile, and pull myself up out of the pool. I grab my towel to dry off, and I check my phone expecting some kind of text from Noah.

Ever since the party last night he has been checking up on me every other hour. He even gave me some stupid lecture about how I can’t do things like that because of what happened last year. Look, I get I may have freaked out just a little, (flashback to me punching some guy in the nose then running out of the party into a rain shower to walk 6 miles towards home) but that doesn’t mean that he needs to be the overprotective brother. What happened last year is not his problem, and he needs to leave me alone.

Instead of a text from Noah though, it's a text from Steph…

Hey, are we still up for pizza?

Oh yeah, 6 right?

Yeah

Alright. I’ll see you soon.

I checked my phone, and noticed the time was 5:30. Great, I would be going to pizza smelling like chlorine with wet hair. I rush into the locker room, and I attempt to get the chlorine smell out of my hair with the cheap shampoo my mom bought me at Walgreens. Vanilla Bean. After drying off, pulling my hair up into a braid, and putting on a pair of dry clothes I stop by coaches office. He’s working on the computer, and a thought crosses my mind. Why spend his sunday here? Doesn’t he have family, or hobbies he’d rather be spending time with? I push the thoughts away. It's none of my business.

“Hey coach, I am heading out. Sorry about today. I promise tomorrow will be better.” He didn’t look up from his computer.

“Excited for the first day back tomorrow?”

“Eh- you could say that.” He laughs, and looks up.

“Goodnight Brooke. Go get some sleep.” He says.

“Thanks coach.” I smile.

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It's 6:10 by the time I reach Stephs house. I pick up my phone to send him a text, but he is already on his way out of the house with Pedra by his side. She’s smiling, but you can still tell something is wrong. He says something quietly to her, and she laughs. She says something back, and his face slightly turns red. I wave through the windshield, and Steph smiles. I roll down the window.

“Hey guys.”

“10 minutes. I didn’t think you’d ever sh-sh-show.” He says smiling.

“Really? Dont tell me you’re one of those girls?” I say jokingly. He laughs as he opens the door for Pedra.

“Milady.” He says confidently in a terrible british accent. She giggles. I dont know what happened to them, but things appeared to be better. I hope… Steph closed her door, and ran over to the passenger seat.

“Alright. You guys got to tell me where the pizza is good. I’m still sort of new to the area, and my brother and I haven’t been able to find that perfect Seattle Pizza yet.”

“Bartolo’s!” Pedra said excitedly. “It’s definitely the best! Plus they’ve got cool arcade games!”

“It’s basically the clean, hole in the wall, version of Chuck e Cheese with really amazing pizza.” Steph clarified.

“Sounds great! I’ve been looking for a reason to use all these quarters.” I pull a bag out from under my seat that contains my lovely savings of quarters. Pedra’s eyes go wide.

“Nice. Let's go.” Steph says smiling.

Adrian

Jessie and Cole were out looking for wedding dresses or something equally as girly while I was "working". Except I had taken the day off.

"Hey Mark, I'm ready to come to the office. Are you good?" I asked, answering my phone.

"Sure, Adrian. I will see you soon."

Mark was a close family friend and a financial adviser and business manager. He worked with my Dad's company. I walked up to the hotel I worked at and he met me at the door, leading me back to the restaurant.

We sat down, taking up menus before he asked me what was good.

I chuckled, "Well, Frankie's back there now and he makes a mean stuffed flounder. You should try it."

"Sure," he replied. So we both got the flounder.

He pulled out paperwork then with a calculator and his phone.

"Okay, so let's look at the numbers. What are your total assets?" he asked.

"Well, I'm 19 now and I've been working in my Dad's kitchens since I was 16 and paying next to no bills. I've been working in very high class restaurants so I've probably made an average of 40 grand a year in U.S. dollars. I think in my bank account right now I have 2 thousand, the rest is in a savings account collecting interest."

"That's smart," he told me. He began to look through my assets, then and what I make yearly.

"So, I haven't told Jessie yet but I want to get a house for us to start our family in and she's going to be going to culinary school. Plus there's the wedding budget and I just wanted to manage everything plus have some nice cushion in case something goes wrong so we have a fallback."

"Are you paying her tuition?" he asked.

"No," I replied, "Her Dad has had an account set up for her since she was small, but she won't be working. She has to take care of the baby."

"Well, you might want her to consider leaving the baby with Colette at least for the summer until classes start so she can get a job."

"We have a wedding to plan, are we in trouble financially?" I asked, looking at the paperwork and trying to make sense of it all.

"No, actually. You're in great shape. Next to no debt and you'll have several grand to put into a house, you'll be able to cut your mortgage short by at least 10 years. However, in my professional opinion, I think it would benefit you both for her to get a job in case something happens or even just for extra expenses." our food arrived and we began to eat.

"I'll talk to her about it," I replied, digging into my own food.

Jules

April

I was in dance class, on my toes, stretching.

April

I was numb, confused. I didn't even want to go to dance but my foster mother made me.

April

"Grand jete, across the floor now." my dance teacher commanded. She cued the in studio piano player then.

"One two, three four, five six, seven eight and one-" she clapped to the beat as girls crossed the floor in pairs, first stepping lightly on their toes before leaping into a splut gracefully in midair and then going to the back of the line.

It was my turn and I followed the lead of the girl next to me, stepping delicately, leaping, and then landing with grace.

"Juliette, you look like a zombie. Put some of your artistry in your leaps."

I felt like a zombie, but when I leaped next and I curved my fingers, raised my eyebrows and tried to form some sort of passable facial expression.

"Better."

After dance was over, I showered in the locker room and put on normal person clothes before walking out. I was wearing shorts, a loose tank top and flats, my dance bag slung over my shoulder.

James walked up to me across the parking lot.

"Hey Jules."

"Hi." I said, glumly.

"I think we need to talk."

"It's not your job to protect me, James. I know I slept with a random guy at that party but that's my problem, not yours. April left me. I just need to deal."

"Random guy?" his face had a weird expression, "It really meant that little to you?"

"Yeah, he didn't matter to me, didn't you hear? Now please, go away. I just want to be alone."

"This is so messed up, you need to figure out what you want, okay? The 'random' guy you slept with, doesn't care much about you either, okay?" he stormed off, leaving me puzzled. Puzzled, but after all, apathetic.

I just wanted April.

Riley Trahan


It only took me half an hour of bickering with the lady at the reception desk near the door of the police station. Only half an hour to find out who has Danny. Meanwhile, my imagination is racing. Why would Danny try to kill someone he doesn't even know? Where would he get the thought to hit a man in the back of the head with a metal pipe so hard that it nearly killed him? Where is Danny now? My best guess is that the guy who bailed him out, Bash Trapani—which gave me quite the start, giving that it was only a few hours ago that I was on his father's yacht—was somehow related to the almost-dead guy, and is on some kind of revenge mission. I just remember seeing the name form on the receptionist's lips as she read it off of her computer, and me running out of the police station faster than I had barged in.

As I sit in my truck, the engine vibrating the seats, I looks at the address I had gotten out of the receptionist. Apparently, this was where Danny would be right now. I don't think it's too far from where my truck is parked outside the police station, so I press on the gas and follow the little blue arrow on my GPS. I get to my destination. I guess I expected some kind of abandoned building, or a shady shipping yard. Instead, I pull up to a big, yellow house, with trimmed bushes and a clean porch. I squint at the windows as my truck squeals to a slow stop on the curb. Dropping my eyes to the inside of the truck, my gaze rests on Carrie's shoes in the passenger seat. I sigh, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. I ponder leaving them there on the cracked leather, but after a bit of thinking ahead to my vision of Danny and me having to make a quick escape from whatever horrors this quaint house hides, I pick them up and put them under my seat. Before my rational self can talk me out of it, I hop out and strut up to the door. I knock loudly four times. It's barely three seconds before I hammer the door with five more quick raps. I'm about to give it another go, but the door swings inward, revealing the squinting face of Bash himself.

"Can I help you?" he asks me, as his eyes fight the morning sun. Only half of his body is visible, the edge of the door pressed against the left side of his chest. I set my jaw and push my shoulders back, looking him in the eye. In a split-second thought process, I weigh the odds of the high schooler stowing my brother in his house, making him pay for what he did. I know Bash to be very fast. I've been to some of the lacrosse games. He doesn't have that confusion in his eyes that says, What's this guy doing at my house? What does he want? Is he dangerous? That one look tells me that he thinks, even if I'm dangerous, he's more dangerous. My heart leaps at this realization, however faulty it may be. What if he tries to hurt me? I decide not to give him the chance.

Baring my teeth from the adrenaline rush, I lunge at Bash, not to hurt him, but to get past him. If Danny is in this house, I plan on finding him. Bash, obviously surprised at my sudden movement, briefly stumbles backwards. I'm by him in a flash. Screaming my brother's name. I sprint down a hallway and find the stairs. Bounding up them two at a time. Breathing fast. I hear footsteps behind me. Thudthudthud. Not daring to look back, I whip around the corner and into a room. Immediately taking in the canvases piled three or four deep around the perimeter of the room, I see Danny with his back to the wall, his eyes wide as they meet mine.

"Danny?" I sputter, looking him over quickly for injuries, seeing none. I hear something behind me. Click. I don't have to be a fan of action movies to know what the safety of a gun sounds like when it's clicked off. My brain makes this connection slower than my body turns, so I spin around to a pistol in my face. The second my eyes lock with the gun, I jolt backwards, throwing my hands up as I nearly trip over my own feet to get away. As if distance will slow the bullet before it slams into my skull. As I brace myself for the shot, Danny steps toward the gun.

"Wait! Stop, that's my brother," he stammers, throwing his left palm out toward the barrel of the gun, which is a good four feet away, and his other hand goes to my chest, to hold me back from going in for round two. My own hands slowly lower, as I realize my mistake. Danny wasn't being held captive. He was Bash's guest. I feel so stupid for a minute, and I'm sure that my jaw is on the floor. Bash stops aiming his gun at my face and he looks at Danny incredulously.

"That's your brother?" he says, his shoulders dropping, head cocking to the side. He looks at me, shoves the gun into the back of his dark jeans, and sticks out his hand. "Sebastian Trapani. Pleased that I didn't shoot you," he says with a small smile.

My heart is still racing, as I stare at his hand for a good three seconds. I close my mouth and shake his hand. "I'm uh...Riley. Riley Trahan. So you're not—" I look at Danny and back to Bash "—trying to...". I trail off, still trying to catch my breath.

"Hurt him? No. Why don't I get us all something to drink, and we can talk. Without the gun this time, that cool with you?" Bash asks. I can barely nod before he walks out of the room and jogs back down the stairs. I turn to Danny. I can tell he's about to start apologizing, but I just wrap him in a fierce hug, gripping the back of his shirt. He hugs me back, biting his tongue.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, my head over his shoulder. I feel him nod. I pull away, and push him, hard. "What the hell were you thinking?" I yell at him. He had stumbled back into the wall, and flinches at my volume. I don't stop. "I can't believe you would be so stupid! Do you know what you did?" My voice, formerly at top volume, drops down to a dangerous whisper. "What you almost did?"

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?"

"Yes. I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't mean to what? Kill someone?"

"He's not dead!"

My voice lowers, as it had gained volume again. "Jesus Christ, Danny! He probably has permanent brain damage. He might at well be." I can see the tears biting at his eyes, as all the pent up guilt and fear is exposed by my comment. Just then, Bash walks back in, holding three sodas. If he heard us, he doesn't say anything. Danny turns his head away as we both follow our host to a couch in another room. I can't even look at him. Not because I'm mad—I am, of course—but because I don't know whether to put my arm around him and comfort him, or beat him up to try and tell him that it's not okay for him to do what he did. Conflicted, I sit down next to Danny, Sebastian sitting on an overstuffed chair perpendicular to my position. He lets out a breath. I break the silence.

"Why did you bail Danny out of jail?" I ask. I have so many questions trying to force their way to the front of my head, I barely even know where to start. Bash holds up his hand.

"Before we get into all this, I assume everything we say stays here," he says, looking at me and Danny. We both nod. He smiles at this confirmation and continues to speak. "My family is more than a small part of the Italian Mafia. Personally, I don't partake in any of the...business that you see in the movies. I can't say the same for my brother or my father, however. If I had to guess—and I'm sure Danny can either confirm or deny this—but if I had to guess, my brother probably employed Danny as a one-job hitman." Danny winces at that word choice. Again, Bash's face doesn't betray his emotions, whatever they may be. "The target was a drug dealer who, if I remember correctly, had some sort of problem with my brother regarding the man's dealings with the Mafia. He was consistently missing shipments—well, never mind about that." He trails off. This whole time, I must be staring at him like he's a fire that had just burned my house down.

I look at the large, shiny piano in the center of the room. "Well...I don't understand. How does that involve Danny?" I voice my thoughts, all the while figuring that the piano isn't a piano at all. The thing's probably a fucking armory. This whole situation is insane. How did I get myself into this?

"In order to...get these jobs done, the hitman has to be able to get close to the target. A man in our business...he's bound to be paranoid. He's not just gonna let anyone walk up to him at night, you get that?" He squints at me, trying to gauge my reaction. I'm just so confused, I can't even say anything, so once again, Bash continues. "Danny has a...certain history with the dealer, so he was the ideal person to approach and...kill the dealer. That's why my brother decided to hire him." I continue to stare at the boy, barely older than me, wondering how it must've felt as a child, to see his father coming home, covered in someone else's blood, or to have a brother that ends up in jail every couple months. My heart fills with sorrow, mostly in the realization that Danny is becoming someone like this. Someone with this much weight and guilt on his shoulders.

I turn to Danny. "You're still into those drugs?" I ask, quietly. He looks down.

"I've been trying to stop," he says, sounding more like a little boy than ever. I turn back to Bash, not wanting to have this conversation in front of him, for Danny's sake.

"So...you bailed him out because you were responsible for the crime," I confirm with an edge to my voice. I immediately regret my tone. I can tell that Bash was just trying to help Danny. I look at my lap, partly hating myself for not being there for my brother.

"That's right. I would have called you to let you know, if you had been just a bit slower in finding this place."

"What now, then? Do I owe you any money, you know, for the bail..." I say, making a move to pull out my wallet. He stops me with a vague wave, shaking his head.

"No, no. We got it covered, trust me. Actually, it's probably better if Danny sticks around for a while—a few days, tops—but after that, he should be good to go—"

I cut him off. "I think I should just drive Danny home. I appreciate you taking care of him this far, but I can take it from here." I start to stand up to leave, but Bash stays seated, looking up at me.

"It would really be better for Danny if he stayed under the radar for a while. Please. You have to trust me on this. We can protect him. You...can't," he says, choosing his words carefully. I briefly wonder how many times he's had to do this.

I sigh. The last thing I need is for Danny to get beat up, or dragged behind someone's truck, and have it be on my conscience, because Bash is right. I don't have a Mafia to protect my little brother. "Alright. But I need to know that nothing's gonna happen to him. And I need to know that you're not gonna make him do this ever again. He's a kid, not a hitman. You got me?" I say to Bash. He nods. I can't decipher the emotions flickering behind his dark eyes, but it makes me want to trust him. So I do.

I nod again and stand up. He gets to his feet, too, and shakes my hand, touching my back with his fist. I mirror him, and then step back. I turn around to Danny. We stand there for a couple seconds.

"You'll be okay?" I ask him. My voice doesn't show all the sadness and anger I'm feeling for him.

"Yeah," he says, barely above a whisper.

"Good. I'll call you later," I reply. I thank Bash again and put my hands in my pockets as he walks me to the door. As I get in my truck, I can't help but think that I made the wrong choice by leaving Danny there. But, I drive away without looking back. I head towards Carrie's house. As I pull up next to her driveway, I get nervous. What will she say when she sees me? I'm worried that she'll slap me, or slam the door in my face. I try to mentally brace myself as I grab her shoes and walk to her door. It's started to rain, the fat drops splattering on my face as it turns into a downpour. My walk turns into a jog and my free hand comes up to rest above my eyes, acting as a little umbrella for them. I knock on her door, much less forcibly than I had knocked on Bash's door. It feels like a wait for a long time as the rain soaks through the shoulders of my T-shirt. Finally, the door is opened by an older woman, probably Carrie's mom. She looks at the rain plastering my hair to my forehead and my hunched shoulders with a confused look on her face. I gave her a polite smile.

"Hi. Is, uh, Carrie here?" I ask, hesitantly. Before she can respond, Carrie pulls the door open further from behind her mom, drawing both of our gazes. Carrie looks at her mom with the I can take it from here look. Her mom takes her cue to step away, withdrawing back into the dark recesses of the house. My formerly polite smile, dims slightly into what I hope is a tentative smile, letting her know that I'm just as conflicted as she is over what happened at the party. I blink the raindrops off my eyelashes.

"Hey," I say in a low voice. She looks like she at war with herself.

"Hi," she replies, in a similarly soft voice. It's kind of a resigned tone that she uses, but also guarded. I clear my throat.

"So...you left your shoes in the...on the boat. I thought I'd grab them for you," I stutter, as I hold the heels out in front of me. They're dripping wet. She puts her hand out halfway and drops in back to her side. Then she reaches out and takes them from me, bring them over the threshold and setting them down.

She mutters, "Thanks," and looks down, her eyebrows furrowing. She looks back up at my face, cocking her head to the side. Her hair falls out from behind her ear. "Do you wanna come in?" I started at the question. She had asked it in such a nonchalant way, that it caught me off guard. I blink again, feeling the cold rain beat down on my shoulders.

"Sure. I mean, I'd like that," I said, nodding. She stepped back from the door and I followed her into the house. Now, the rain was coming from the strands of hair on my forehead and the sleeves of my shirt, instead of the sky. She looks at the water dripping on the floor, and goes to get me a towel. She doesn't turn around fast enough for me to miss the smile that forms on her face as she walks away.

Steph
____________________________________________________

I was glad that Pedra chose Bartolo's. The guys and I went there pretty often after lacrosse games, so I knew my way around. The waitresses even remembered my name most of the time, which was more than I could say about any other restaurant in town. We got there in almost no time; Brooke insisted that she drive, because apparently I was "still concussed" and I had "impaired judgement" when it came to operating a vehicle.

That was okay with me, I guess. Pedra was wearing jeans and a hoodie; something was still weird about her, but I'd stopped asking. She wouldn't be bothered with me lately; she submerged herself in homework and other school-related things. Last night, she just sat up in her room for four hours watching Disney movies. I agonized over whatever happened to her, if anything actually did happen that night. I couldn't be sure. But she acted so different. It was like she didn't want to rush growing up anymore. I couldn't remember the last time she was content with long sleeves and no makeup and wearing play-sneakers.

On the other hand, every second, I liked Brooke more. There were so many things I couldn't really place about her. Like, who just keeps a bag of quarters under the front seat? I didn't care, not much anyway. It was cool, and a little quirky, and the way it made Pedra's eyes light up made me smile.

Finally, we stepped through the doors of Bartolo's. We could hear the faint noise of chatter and gameplay, and lights were flashing somewhere. The lighting was dim, and Pedra was clutching the bag of quarters, standing on her tiptoes to look around. Brooke's hair was damp, and she smelled like vanilla.

"Can I go?" Pedra asked me, bouncing around.

"How 'bout we eat first?" I asked in return. Brooke just smiled at Pedra.

My sister scowled. "I'll eat later." She started to hang on my arm, laying her head against me. "Steph," she said, "pleeease?" I was looking around, and almost didn't hear her. All the lights were distracting me. A waitress was trying to seat us.

"Steph Almy?" the waitress asked in a sing-song voice, smiling. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the drunk girl at the party the other night. I tried not to think about it.

"Right on," I said, wiping my mouth. "C-can uh, can we sit right over there?" I gestured to a spot right next to the arcade games; I figured that way, I could watch Pedra play and eat at the same time. The waitress nodded and led us over to a booth. Pedra had stopped hanging on me, but she was hovering, eyes darting from me to the Pinball machine.

I stepped back and let Brooke sit down first. She kind of smiled at me, and she looked kind of like one of those movie stars and kind of like an angel. I was trying to decide which when the waitress slapped a menu down in front of me. She handed Pedra one of those coloring books with word searches and stuff, and Pedra immediately starting scribbling away with a crayon, tongue poking out of her mouth.

"After I finish this picture, I can go play, right?" Pedra asked, like I'd made a deal with her.

But I relented, half because I didn't mind if she had fun and half because I wanted Brooke to myself. "G-go on ahead," I told her.

"Really?" Pedra asked, eyes jumping up to mine as she squirmed out of her seat. "Thanks!" she said, giving me a half-hug and trying to grab the bag of quarters.

"Uh-uh," I cut in, stopping her hand with mine, and instead gave her a handful of quarters. She stuffed them in her pockets and started to run off. "Thanks, Brooke!" I yelled after her.

"Thanks, Brooke!" she echoed over her shoulder as she jogged away. Brooke laughed, blinking as she skimmed the menu. I took Pedra's kids menu, pretending I was trying to find something to drink, but I was actually trying to figure out the word search. My eyes ran over the paper, trying to find the word CORNCOB, but there were C's all over, and my brain just messed up the letters, like usual.

"Are you doing the word-search?" Brooke asked, looking at me and grinning widely.

I shook my head, putting a hand on the back of my neck. "No--nah, I--"

"Corncob," she cut in excitedly, pointing to the word as she looked over my shoulder. I squinted and finally saw it. "Circle it," she said.

"I can find them too, y'know," I told her as I circled the word with a red crayon, and quickly skimmed for the next word. PACMAN. I tried to angle my shoulder in front of her so she couldn't find it before me, and ran my finger along the first row of letters before moving to the second.

"PacMan," She said, laughing, messily circling the word with a blue crayon she'd grabbed.

"Maybe this is--this is why you're so good in English class," I said, even though shortly after, I realized that English class and word-searches didn't even really relate to one another.

"I'm not good in English class," she protested.

"Yeah you are," I told her as she tried to reach over me to circle another word. "You're always the first one to raise your hand."

She looked at me, really looked at me. "How do you know that?" Her brow was furrowed, and a half-smile was suspended on her face.

I shrugged, and went to put my hand down on the paper. But I wasn't paying attention, and my finger flipped a crayon over the edge of the table. I bent over to get it, having to crouch really low and reach around. In the darkness, I caught a glimpse of a pack of baseball cards in Brooke's pocket. Baseball cards? I looked closer; it was someone from the Cleveland Indians.

"D-do you like Bobby Feller?" I asked her. "The Heater from Van Meter. Y'know--y'know that's what they call him, right?"

At first she seemed surprised that I knew, and then her cheeks suddenly blushed. "And Bullet Bob," she blurted out. Then she hastily looked away. "They're for my brother," she said. I smiled endearingly. "It's not like I'm a fangirl, or a collector, or--or--"

"Or--or--or what?" I asked her, picking at the knee of my jeans.

That made her smile.

"Cheeseburger," she pointed out, circling another word.

I angled my shoulder again, searching desperately for RADIO. She giggled, and put her hand on my arm, her chin brushing over my shoulder. She was trying to reach over me with her blue crayon, and I was insisting that I could find them on my own, and she was laughing. Only Just A Call Away by the Struts was playing faintly in the background. The lights were still flashing in the arcade area, and Brooke's brown eyes glowed when she smiled. I could see a few drops of water sprinkled on her forehead.

My heartbeat slowed, and for a second my thoughts weren't going in a million different directions; I was stuck on her.

I ducked my head and slowly turned towards her. I leaned in, parting my lips. My hand fell to her shoulder.

She was startled, and pulled back suddenly when our noses brushed together, before our lips touched.

"Want something to drink?" a voice interrupted from the end of the table.

Brooke Kestner

“Want something to drink?” She waitress steps up. Steph and I quickly pull apart embarrassed like a bunch of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. We both stay silent a moment avoiding each other's gaze. I thank God that it's kind of dark in here, because my cheeks are on fire. With an awkward cough Steph finally speaks up.

“Uh...I’ll have a co-co-coke, and my sister will have a sprite.” He looks down at his hands.

“Alright. And you miss?” She turns her attention to me, pen and paper in hand.

“Water’s fine.” I say brushing a fallen piece of hair from my face.

“Okie dokie. I’ll have that out soon.” We both smile as she walks off.

Dammit! We were so close! I can’t believe I almost kissed Steph Almy. I’ve only known this boy for what? Almost a week now? And even though I’ve only known him for little while, I can’t help but feel something…

I take the risk of looking at him, and my cheeks become warm again. He is staring straight at me.

“Brooke…” The curve of his brow proves he is contemplating what to say, and for once I have nothing to say to help him. Luckily the whole restaurant's attention is quickly pulled to the door where a rowdy group of boys enter through the doorway. I recognize a few of them from school, and apparently they recognize us as well because they start our way.

“Almy!” Bash walks over surrounded by usual Lacrosse posse. Luke, Kyle, and some others with the same snobby smile and perfect hair. “We expect to see you at practice tomorrow right?” Steph nods as Luke pipes up.

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure you weren’t babysitting.” He jokes. The guys laugh slightly, including Steph. I roll my eyes.

“Brooke Kestner? I didn’t know you actually went out. I mean with training and all. It's good to see you actually do something other than swim.” Bash looks at me with an arrogant smile. “You two out on a date?”

“Oh we’re just friends.” I’m a little taken aback by this, and I can see Steph just as quickly regrets saying it. “I mean…It's- It's just…” The guys start laughing.

“Whatever man. Just be there at practice tomorrow. We’ll see you later.” He pats Steph on the shoulder, and winks at me. “Brooke.”

“Bash.” They walk off to find their own table, and the waitress places our drinks down.

“Um...I’ll go get Pedra.” I nod, as he pulls himself out of the booth. I rub my face with a sigh as he walks towards the games. It's a few minutes before he returns and his face is worried. I straighten up curiously. “I cant...I cant find her. She just left. Without telling me. God dammit!”

“Steph…”

“Dammit! What di-di-did I do wrong? What if something happens to her?” I stand now grabbing Steph by the shoulders.

“Steph, you need to calm down. Look, we need a course of action. Go outside, check the parking lot and the car. I’ll check the restroom. Okay? Is she isn’t in either place...then we go from there.” I look into his eyes for a moment. So many emotions are flooding them, and I know now he is really worried.

“Okay.” Ge grabs the keys from the table, and rushes off. I grab my bag from the booth, and start off towards the bathroom. The moment I enter, I hear the quiet sobbing of Pedra behind one of the stall doors. I knock quietly.

“Pedra...Its Brooke. Will you please let me in?” Silence passes between us, and I hear the click of the stall door. I open it to find Pedra sitting knees to her chest on the floor. He face is bright red with tears streaked down it. I slowly bend down towards her, and sit next to her placing an arm around her shoulder. She sobs for a moment before speaking up.

“I- I saw him..” She gasps air before falling into sobs again.

“Who? Who’d you see Pedra?” I grip her shoulder tighter.

“The- the boy from the party. It happened really fast. It wasn’t my fault I swear!” I shush her, and hold her closer to me. “I didn’t know what to do. He- He grabbed my arm really tightly, and pushed me down. I tried to call for Steph, but he didn't come for me. He didn’t protect me!” Suddenly everything made sense. Pedra’s distant behavior was because of something that happened the night of the party…

“Pedra..You cannot blame your brother. You know he would do anything to protect you. He loves you more than anything-” She interrupts me.

“He left me! He- he doesn’t love me!”

“Pedra. Listen to me. I’ve never seen a brother love his sister as much as Steph loves you. He has been so worried about you, and he would do anything to take your pain away. What happened at the party was not his fault. It was not your fault.”

“How- how would you know? You weren’t there! You- you didn’t see.” She sobs more.
“I know I wasn’t there Pedra, but something like that once happened to me…” Her sobbing slowed, and she looked up at me.

“Real- really?” She asks. I nod hugging her tighter.

“Yes...And I know that it is confusing, and you wanna take it out on the world. But the best thing you can do is surround yourself with those you love in a safe environment. By doing that, you’ll not only heal faster, but you’ll come out okay. I know it's scary and weird, but you aren’t alone. You have your friends, your brother, me. You can’t push the world away Pedra, but instead you need to learn to embrace it. You aren't alone, and you aren’t abandoned. I promise…The monsters won't get you if your brother has anything to say about it.” I laugh slightly feeling a tear fall from my eye, and Pedra quickly wipes it away hugging me.

“So..We’re kind of the same?” She says wiping her own eyes.

“In a way I guess we are.” I say leaning my head against hers. She slightly smiles grabbing my hand. We sit there a few moments in silent. I squeeze her hand, and slowly stand up. “I think we need to go find your brother. He is probably worried sick.” She nods, and stands up. She quickly hugs me almost knocking me over.

“Thank you Brooke.” I smile picking her up. We exit the bathroom, and head for the doorway. Steph stands pacing in the parking lot with a phone to his ear. When he sees us, he drops it. I let Pedra down, and she runs into Steph’s arms. He sweeps her up kissing her cheek.

“God, Pedra! You had me scared half to death.”

“I know Steph...I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too Pedra. S-s-so much.” His voice cracks. I smile, tears threatening the edges of my eyes. Pedra pulls away from Steph’s shoulder and looks at me.

“Can we eat now? I’m hungry.” Steph and I laugh as he sets her down.

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” He says messing up her hair. She smiles running back into the pizza place. I look over at Steph. “Are...Are you okay.” I nod following him back into the restaurant.

The rest of the night was pretty amazing. Steph was right. The pizza at Bartolo’s is amazing, and the games were so much fun! Once again Pedra and Steph were attached at the hip, and I couldn’t help but smile every time he made her laugh. It was getting late, and Steph decided we should call it a night. On the car ride home Pedra fell asleep in the back, and Steph and I were left in silence again.

“Tonight was really great.” I say looking over at him. He nods.

“It really was...Brooke? What did you say to her?” He asks curiously. I turn my attention back to the road with a sigh.

“I told her a little story...I think she is ready to tell you what happened…She is just gonna be waiting for you to ask.” I look at him once more.

“I know….Whatever you did...Th-th-thanks.”

“She’s a wonderful girl…”

“Yeah, she is.” I pull into their driveway about a quarter to 11. Steph bites his lip sitting there a moment. “Brooke...about what I said to the guys-”

“Don’t worry about it. I get it.” I interrupt. “Just friends is okay.”

“B-b-but Brooke that's not what I meant-” I look at him in the eyes interrupting him once more. Tears ache at the edge of my eyes once more. I knew I couldn’t take back what I was about to do.

“Steph...I think you need to focus on some other things right now.” I look back at Pedra. “Besides I...I have too much riding on my swimming. I need to focus.”

“What are you saying?”

“There is nothing to say Steph. We’re good friends.” I do my best to smile genuinely. “I’ll walk you guys to the door.” Steph looks down for a moment before getting out of the car. He grabs Pedra from the back, and holds her close. We stand a moment at the door silently. He takes a step towards me, and I feel myself taking a step towards him too. However our efforts are stopped by Pedra’s waking up.

“Are we home?” She asks groggily. Steph nods.

“Yeah. Why dont you thank Brooke?” Pedra smiles tiredly.

“Thanks Brooke.” She holds out a hand, and I grab it giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll see you guys later…” Me and Steph stare at each other a moment more, and then I take the leap stepping away from the porch. I feel my heart drop, but I keep walking. I hear them say goodbye in unison behind me, but I dont turn around.

I can’t take it back now...

Sebastian

"Well kid, I'm going to be gone most of the night, so just remember to lock up. There's someone across the street keeping an eye out for you. This will all be over in a couple of days." I said, straitening my hair in the mirror. Danny walked into the bathroom, leaning against the frame." Why are you getting all dressed up? Got a hot date?" He added the last bit with a nervous smirk. I grinned over at him.

"Just haven't found the one kid. No, actually I help manage one of my dad's club's. Our family isn't all about shooting people." He winced slightly as I said that."My father is basically grooming me to take over all our legal businesses when he retires in about 10 years. So I'll have a nice job after my lacrosse career." I sighed putting down my comb.

"Kid, your brother seems to care about you a lot. It would kill him to loose you. Either if you died or to drugs. It's hard, I've seen what it's done to people. Don't let it take ahold of you. I lost my brother in a mob war. I'd give my life to spend an hour with him again. Don't let your brother experience the pain I am." I exited the bathroom, walking down the stairs to grab my keys and suit jacket. I put it on, squeezing Danny's shoulder.

"Fight it kid. Fight it with all you got. Don't let it consume you." With those words of encouragement, I smacked the back of his head playfully." If you want to hang out with your brother, go ahead and use the house phone. Frank already knows it okay for him to be here." I grabbed my car keys off the counter and opened the door to the garage." Free for all on the food, but do not touch my dinosaur chicken nuggets. Those are mine." I smirked and closed the door, entering my Challenger, than headed for the downtown of Seattle, where the nightlife was beginning.

I pulled into my designated parking spot right behind the club, and walked inside. Technically it was illegal for me to be here, but either people were too lazy or scared of my father to tell the police. I smiled as the day manager, Tony, let out a sigh of relief." Good to see you Mr. Trapani. I'm ready to get out of here." He greeted.

I shook his hand." And miss all the drunk people throwing up everywhere and trying to screw on the dance floor?? My my Tony, give really mellowed out." Tony let out a loud laugh before sauntering off to the back. I entered the main room and watched as it slowly began to feel. This club was one of my father's more profitable clubs, so I could only shudder at the thought of how long the line was outside. I headed over to my usual spot, a cornered off VIP table.

I listened to the complaints as I walked by people towards the VIP area. The bouncer, Maurice, nodded at me respectfully as he unclipped the rope for me to enter." Expecting any guests Mr. Trapani?" He asked politely. I shook my head." Not tonight. How are the kids? Hows Mary feeling??" Maurice beamed at my interest in his personal life." They're doing great boss! She's recovering really well and little Sam is eating so much." I smiled." If he gets as big as you, he's always got a job here." Maurice chuckled to himself as I went to my table, ordering a drink from one of the waitresses who gave me a once over.

I just say. Chatted with a couple workers, watched the people dance. Checked out a few woman, accepted a few drinks form single women looking for an in to the VIP area when I felt the biggest smile on my face. Quickly I made my way to the dance floor, making people move with my body. I smirked as I came behind my victim. I tapped them on the shoulder and watched as their eyes widened in surprise.

"I know your not old enough to be here since we're in the same school. Mind telling me what you're doing here?? And also, who the hell gave you the ID? Because our tech is state of the art, and they didn't catch a fake?? I need to know the guy." The person's opened and closed like a fish out of water, as they tried to form their words. I smiled." Let's go sit at my table and chat."

Jules

"I know your not old enough to be here since we're in the same school. Mind telling me what you're doing here?? And also, who the hell gave you the ID? Because our tech is state of the art, and they didn't catch a fake?? I need to know the guy. Let's go sit at my table and chat."

"Bash, charming as ever," I said, allowing him to lead me to the VIP section. Girls looked at me enviously as I sat next to him.

I was wearing a slinky but classy black dress with one shoulder strap and an open back. On my feet were tall red heels and I carried a red handbag.

He leaned back casually and confidently. "What brings you here?" he gestured to somebody in a black uniform and he handed me a champagne flute.

"The music, the alcohol. The escape," I told him, feeling the pang of loss shoot through me. I missed April.

"And what, pray tell, are you here to escape from?" he sipped his champagne, watching me. Calculating.

"What everybody else is here to escape from. Lost love."

"That's not what I'm here for," he said, a sinister grin on his face, "I'm just here for lovely ladies such as yourself."

I crossed my legs, sipping from the champagne flute and enjoying the feel of the fizz in my throat. "Well you're in good company," I murmured, inching myself closer to him until our thighs were touching.

"Am I now?" but it wasn't a question. I was so close to him I was nearly on his lap, he could easily see down my dress at this point. I didn't care, I simply wanted to forget.

"Another drink?" he said aloud, seemingly to no one, but another drink materialized in my hand.

The music was pounding through my body. "What is it you're after, exactly?" he asked, "I couldn't help but notice the absence fo your girlfriend. She was hot, too."

Another pang shot through me. April

"She's irrelevant," I forced myself to say. Suddenly I was in his lap, my hands running through his hair as I tried to kiss him.

He tsked me, gently pushing me away until I was in my previous position. "You're more than a little tipsy and something tells me there's more to the girlfriend story than you're letting on. Come to me at the end of the summer, and if you still want me, I'm yours."

"Not many girls get that invitation," I said, gesturing to the rest of the scantily clad bimbos that looked as if they would rip my hair out for a chance to talk to Bash, let alone be his company for the night.

"Not many girls are you. You're a dancer," he said, "flexible, I imagine. And you're the only girl in the room dressed with some class." he gave me a wry smile. "Sometimes it's more attractive to leave some things to the imagination."

"Let me know when you change your mind, you can have much more than your imagination," I flirted.

"Like I said. Come to me when you're stone cold sober or at the end of the summer. If you want me then, you can have me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to." he stood just then. "But feel free to enjoy yourself. On the house, of course." then he stalked off, leaving me alone.

Colette

We were at a bridal dress appointment and I was sitting in a comfy chair, holding Isaac. We were at David's Bridal, Jessie and Adrian were paying for everything themselves.

"Here goes nothing," Jessie said, grinning, as the bridal attendant led her back to try on her first dress.

I sat with Isaac, bouncing him on my knee when she emerged.

"I wanted something a little sexy, but classy." she stepped up on the pedestal in front of my so we could see the full effect of the dress. It hugged her nicely but the material bunched around her stomach strangely, it was meant for a woman with much broader hips.

"I'm not crazy about the cut," I said, and Jessie nodded.

"Yeah, I agree. It's a lovely dress, just not on me."

The next dress Jessie came out in was a mermaid style dress with a low neckline.

"My Dad would have a heart attack," she said, laughing, pulling up the neckline. She was right, it hugged her hips and her backside so the low neckline was going overboard.

Jessie tried on dress after dress, ballgowns, sexy dresses, poofy dresses, long dresses, she even tried on a few short dresses. Some of them were vintage, ultra modern, simple, fancy, beading, no beading, lace, satin, velvet, silk. She was trying on dresses for over 4 hours.

"Miss Roux?" The attendant said, coming out by herself, "Miss Gates would like to see you." I followed her down the hallway, holding a sleeping Isaac. I could hear soft sobs coming from the dressing room.

"Jessie?" I called softly, tapping on the door. It opened, revealing a tear stained Jessie wrapped in a soft white robe.

"Cole," she sniffled.

"What's wrong?" I asked, walking into the dressing room as I shut the door behind me.

"I know we need to find a dress like now or we won't have time for an alteration but I can't find anything and-" she hiccuped, "I'm afraid I won't have a dress to walk down the aisle in. Or that I'll be getting married in a dress that Adrian won't like."

I understood why she was upset. The pressures of the wedding were finally getting to her. She was realizing that it was crunch time, and that she might not be wearing the dress of her dreams.

"Jess," I said softly, putting down Isaac's carrier, "It's not about the dress or the venue. It's about you and Adrian. I know you want to wear the dress of your dreams because this is hopefully the only wedding you will ever have. But I know that no matter what you're wearing you'll look back on the day and remember Adrian, and that complete feeling you're going to have when you marry him. You are binding yourself to him for the rest of your life. What you wear while you do it will seem trivial as you get older."

She started wiping her tears from her eyes. "You're right," she said, "I'm being a brat."

"No you're not," I said, softly. "You're a stressed out bride trying to put together a last minute wedding. Why don't we call your Dad and ask if we can leave Isaac with him. Then we can go back to the apartment and just rest."

"I'll call him," she said, "But I have to ask you something."

"Okay," I said hesitantly. I didn't like personal questions.

"Well, you've been so helpful with the wedding and you mean so much to Adrian. I feel like you and I have gotten a lot closer. So... would you please be my maid of honor?"

I was speechless. That was the last thing I had expected. Did I want that on my head, though? I mean, I already was planning half the wedding, so this couldn't be too much more on my plate. She was right, it would make Adrian happy and in a strange way, I felt closer to her too.

"Sure. Yeah, of course," I said, giving her a small smile.

"Thank you so much, Cole. I'm really excited. I'm calling my Dad now," she said, taking a deep breath. Jessie scrolled through the contacts at her phone, looking for her Dad.

"Adrian, Colin..." she paused, "wait. Colin." her face lit up.

"What about him?" I asked nervously. I had almost liked Colin, before I dated a guy named Hunter. Things were decidedly awkward between us.

"Colin designs clothes, his entire family knows how to sew. They own a boutique in downtown Seattle," she said, "What if he was able to custom make a dress for me? Would there be time, even?" she wondered.

"Normally dressmakers need 4 months to make a wedding dress plus bridesmaids dresses, and that's with other clients. There actually could be enough time to pull this off if he's skilled enough."

"He might not be," Jessie said, "But his Mom definitely is. She's been a seamstress for years."

"Call and ask," I said.

Jessie tapped his contact name and called him. The phone was ringing, I guessed.

"Colin?" she asked, "I need a favor. A pretty big one actually..."

Jessie

"Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own."

(h.j.b., jr.)

"I don't know, Jessie," Collin's voice sighed into the phone, someone in the background interrupting with a cough, "I mean, with the timing and even material that I'd need to make it-"

"I can provide you with everything," I offer quickly, my head high and heart pounding, "Whatever you need to make it. I can get it for you."

Collin sighs again, but says, "It's going to be a close call, but I think we can do it."

My lips spread apart and I nodded vigorously at Cole, "You're a life saver. I'll contact your mom about the payment plan?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Collin said, "I'll text you what we'll need."

"Thank you so much, Collin," I felt like crying, I was so happy, "I'll see you later!"

The call ended and my lips spread into an even bigger smile.

"Did he say what he needed?" Cole's voice asked, but I was too excited to answer for a moment.

I felt like jumping up and down, staring at my ring, kissing Adrian, taking Isaac from Cole just to have something real to prove this wasn't a dream.. It took a moment to gain control of myself.

"He's-" I clear my throat and fix Isaac's shirt collar, then continue, "he said he'd text me what he needs."

"Great!" she cheers and passes my child to me, "Let's go get something to eat, then. I'm starving."

************

"I won’t let you go when your worlds in the dark
You can keep borrowing my heart
Take it or leave it, it’s yours to decide
Break it or keep it, you’re safe"

The overhead music played quietly, the sweet voice of Taylor Henderson lulling Isaac to sleep slowly-- although, he hadn't fallen asleep yet, most likely because he was hungry.

"I used to love this song," I grin, my heart thumping in my chest, "It gave me hope when I was in my lowest moments, you know?"

Cole nods, "It's natural to have things that cause those feelings."

"Mm," I hum, not being able to get rid of the delicate feeling washing over me, "So what else are we doing today?"

"You're going home," Cole says, "I've got some more things to get done."

"Well, is there anything you need me to do?" I frown-- I was afraid she'd overwork herself. I felt guilty, all of a sudden, for putting all of this on her.

She was about to shake her head, but then stopped and laughed, "Of course. I almost forgot. I need you and Ade to pick the maids of honor and grooms!"

"All right!" I grin at her and as if on cue, the waiter waltzed over to our table, balancing our plates of food talentedly on his arm.

***********

After eating-- and feeding Isaac, which earned me a couple dirty looks-- we went back to Ade's apartment, but Cole only stayed for about 10 minutes, to which she proclaimed that she was off to "search for the perfect venue" so she had options to show us.

Adrian was home, the sleeves to his shirt rolled up as he washed the rest of the dishes. I laid a sleeping Isaac in the crib, but the first thing Adrian did was go over there and plant a big kiss on the baby's face.

Once he stepped away from the crib, I strolled up to my future husband.

"I was going to wash those," I mumble, then tug at his arm-- he wrapped it around my waist and kissed my cheek, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Jess," he turned the water off, and spins to face me, "How'd everything go today? Did you find the dress you want?"

I chew on my bottom lip, then shake my head once, "All the dresses at the store just...didn't seem to appeal to me, you know? They were pretty, but they weren't...special enough."

"That's okay, babe," he smiles, and pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, "We can find another bridal shop, or-"

"Collin Maye's making my dress," I blurt out, my hands shaking in anticipation, "the Maye family, I mean. They're...custom making it."

"Really?" his eyebrows were raised, and for a moment I thought he wouldn't approve of the idea, but then he grinned and pulled me into a tight hug, "Baby, that's the best news I've heard all day! And it's...it's what you want, right?"

I nod a couple of times into his shoulder, "Oh god, yes. I'm so excited. I told him we could provide him with the materials to make it, and he said that they could have it done in time."

Adrian pulled away, his eyes bright and lips spread into a smile that I was very familiar with. It was his Jessie smile, because the only time I saw it was when he looked at me.

"Oh, right-- also, Cole needs us to pick out the maids of honor and grooms," I pause and he takes that moment to lean down and peck my lips, "I asked her to be one, and she said yes. So there's her and Rupert. I was thinking maybe Collin and Adah?"

"Whatever you want, babe," he smiled, "we can plan it all out later."

"Well, why not now?" I ask, filtering my fingers though his soft brown locks.

His teeth glisten and he entwines his own fingers with mine, then says, "I just wanted to spend some time with you. I went and got a couple of movies, made a new batch of tea, got some snacks. The perfect movie date, you think?"

I laugh and nod once, "Sounds like fun."

"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself- and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to- letting a person be what he really is."

(j.m.- l.q.)

Steph
____________________________________________________

Just friends. I wasn't stupid. I knew what that meant. That meant rejection in every shape, way, and form; Brooke didn't like me, and that was that.

I took my feet down off the coffee table and grabbed my notebook from under the remote. I heard footsteps pattering down the staircase. When I glanced over, Pedra was rubbing her eyes and shuffling towards me in her bunny slippers.

"Hey pal, what are you doing up?" I asked her. "It's 6:30 in the morning." I slid my notebook back onto the table, slipping it under a magazine.

"I couldn't sleep," she told me innocently, and then gazed up at the television, her eyes squinting. "What're you watching?"

"Baseball," I replied, patting the couch next to me. I think he'll go for third! I heard the announcer call from the TV speaker. I looked up to see Yoenis Céspedes booking it for third base. The Mets were down by five, and the Rockies looked bored.

Pedra sank down into the couch cushion next to me, allowing her head to loll onto my shoulder. "This is boring. We should watch a different game," she said lazily, her cheek smushed against my shoulder as she tried to reach for the remote. Before she could change the channel, I grabbed the remote from her hand and turned down the volume.

"N-no," I said, "we need to have a little chat."

Pedra closed her eyes wordlessly, letting her head sink further back into the couch.

"I want you t--I want you to know that whatever you tell me stays here, alright? And that I won't get m-mad at anything you say." Pedra shrugged, curling her legs up.

"Whatever," she mumbled.

"What happened the night of the party?" I asked her. I glanced up at the TV--somehow, the Mets had scored two more runs. Bases were loaded.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she said.

"You talked about it with Brooke, didn't you?" I asked. Curtis Granderson blew it and got thrown out at first. Three outs.

"How do you know?" Pedra asked, almost accusingly. She was picking at a thread on her pajama pants.

"Because," I told her, because I didn't want Pedra to think that Brooke had betrayed her trust (if Brooke telling me about my own sister would count as betraying Pedra's trust). "Now please," I told her, "just tell me w-w-what happened. If you can tell her, you can tell me, right?"

"It's different," she protested, staring at the television. The Mets were up to bat again at the top of the seventh inning. "You're a boy, so it's different."

I blinked, a tinge of worry rising up inside of me. Slowly, I asked, "What does me being a boy have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," she said. "It just does, okay?"

"Pal," I said, turning her head to face me and looking straight at her, "I'm your brother. I know I'm not Brooke, or Mom. But at the moment, I'm all that--all that--all that you got, alright? So look me in the eye, and tell me what happened."

Pedra's chin quivered, and she looked down at her lap. She wiped her nose. "After you left me in the party, I went back to the car," she started. She sniffled. "Because I thought I'd wait for you to come for me." I let some air out through my nose, putting a hand on my forehead. Guilt plagued my chest. "I waited there for a few minutes," she said, her voice getting higher and weaker. "Then I saw a shadow, and the door opened. The back door. I thought it was you at first. So I said your name. But it wasn't you, Steph," she told me, eyes meeting mine. Her eyes were pink and watery. "It was someone else. Someone I didn't know. And he--he started talking to me. He kept calling me cute--a cute girl, he said. And then--and then he hurt me."

I'd stopped breathing, and fear had settled over me. Suddenly, I knew what had happened to her, but I couldn't believe it. My jaw was clenched; I was shaking, and I was furious.

Pedra was staring at me, gaging my reaction. She looked afraid, and her eyes were still wet. Someone did things to my sister. That was the only thought running through my head, and it felt like my heart was beating a mile a minute. I couldn't believe it. I had to hear it in her own words.

"Hurt you how?" I asked her through my teeth, voice trembling. The TV was still on. The Mets had lost, and the commercials were running.

Pedra swallowed. "I don't wanna say."

Raising my voice, I said, "Pedra, tell me--"

"I don't wanna say!" she yelled, jumping up from the couch.

"I don't fucking care what you want!" I roared, and I don't think I'd ever screamed at her like that before. "You tell me what happened, or I'll-I'll-I'll--" I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and tears forming behind my eyes. "Tell me what the hell happened," I told her.

Pedra was in tears, and her legs stumbled back into the coffee table. I expected her to run away from me, but she just curled up in the chair and started to cry, her hands covering her face. "I want Mom and Dad," she sobbed. I sat forward with my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't believe I'd yelled at her like that. I can't be Dad, I realized. I can't be her parent. It just wouldn't work; she wouldn't listen to me like she would them, and I couldn't do what they could to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Pal," I said. She didn't say anything in response, but her sobs quieted. I could tell my spontaneous yelling scared her. "I just d-d-don't know what to do," I told her softly. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Clearly," she mumbled, glancing away and wiping her nose. She was still breathing fast and in tears. It hurt, but she was right. I was messing up left and right, and when I tried to fix my mistakes, I always went about it in the wrong way.

"Pedra, we need to t-tell somebody about this," I told her. "The police. Or somebody." She didn't say anything. "Later today we should go down to the station and report it." Is that the right way to go about it? I wondered to myself. I could barely think past my fury. My need to give vengeance to the guy who did this to my sister.

Again, Pedra said nothing. She had stopped crying, and was now just sitting still, staring at the patterns on the carpet.

"You're gonna need to tell me what-what-what he looked like," I coaxed.

"He was short," Pedra murmured, distantly and almost so quietly I missed it. "With black hair, and dark skin. He was wearing a chain around his neck."

"Okay," I said, trying to picture him in my mind.

"Are you and Brooke going on another date?" Pedra asked suddenly, looking up at me, trying so hard to change the subject.

I felt my heart sink. I rubbed the back of my neck. "Uh, I don't think so, Pal."

Pedra sat up all the way in her seat. Her face was still tear-streaked. "What? Why?"

"I don't know," I said, chest aching suddenly. I laid back against the couch. "She just wants to be friends, I guess."

"Don't you love her?" Pedra asked earnestly.

I shook my head, lowering my eyebrows. "Pedra, don't you understand what the word 'love' means?"

Pedra crossed her arms, frustrated about how I was treating her. "Yeah, it's when two people really, really like each other, and then they get married, and--"

"Yeah," I said, also frustrated, "well you should know that that doesn't just happen to everyone."

"You're a coward," Pedra muttered to her feet, scowling.

I leaned forward. "What was that?" I asked, incredulous.

"Why're you so scared?" she asked me, looking up at me for the first time. "Just tell her how you feel about her."

"It's not that easy," I replied.

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't feel the same way!" I told her, eyes wide.

"How do you know?" Pedra yelled back, tossing her arms up. "How do you know?"

"Because she told me that she just wanted to be friends," I said. "See Pedra, you don't kn-n-now the situation, so--"

"Don't you at least like her?" Pedra continued. I didn't answer. She stood up and walked over to me, perching herself on the edge of the couch and facing in my direction. "Look at me," Pedra demanded, as if she had some kind of authority. I sighed and looked at her. "You have to start taking chances." I didn't mention that I had already tried taking chances, and that it didn't work out so well. "If you like her, you have to fight for her. You have to start thinking straight, Curry. Okay?"

"This isn't some fairytale--" I began.

Pedra reached up and grabbed my chin before I could finish or look away. "Say you'll fight for her."

"Pedra--"

"Say it!"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll fight for her."

It was Pedra's turn to roll her eyes. "Say it like you mean it."

"I'll fight for her."

"Good," Pedra said, and then got up off the couch to go to her room. I sighed, thinking that she was right, before I grabbed my notebook from beneath the magazine. I opened it to the bookmarked page, where chauffer was the last word. Beneath it, I wrote vengeance.

~*~

I dropped Pedra off at Kenna's house. She was four years older than Pedra, but it seemed like they both liked each other's company. Plus, she was Gill's sister, which always worked out well it everyone's favor. I headed off to lacrosse practice. When I got to the field, Gill, Bash, and a few other guys were warming up.

"A little late, huh Almy?" Bash asked with a half-smile. He didn't think it was at all funny that I was late to his practice, and I knew it.

"He had to drop his sister off," Luke joked, because he was always one for jokes.

"Actually yeah-yeah, I did," I said.

"No excuses," Bash said, like he was Coach. It'd always been something I didn't like about him; he thought he was more important than he was. "Take a lap." All the guys were staring at me, so I shook my head, jaw clenched, and started jogging around the track. I ran half a lap when I saw Kyle opening the fence gate and stepping out onto the field. His duffel was slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Colchester!" Bash shouted. "I don't want you late again either, hear me?"

Kyle smirked and gave Bash a lazy salute. "Okay, Coach."

Instead of taking a lap, Kyle tossed his duffel on the bench and started walking towards the stretching circle.

"And no jewelry on the field!" Bash called.

Kyle stopped in his tracks. "Roger that," he said, unclasping his chain necklace and tossing it into his bag.

I woke up with a slight hangover, and spent the morning confined in my room, warding off outsiders. Jen knocked on the door at about eight o'clock, and then again at about ten, but went away after I slinked up to the door and told her to leave me alone. On second thought, I should've recruited her to sneak me painkillers.

I couldn't stop thinking about Riley. About the way his lip curled in the most endearing way, and the way I was almost sure he sighed I love you against my cheek. It was all of the cliche "romance novel" things that I couldn't help but replay in my head. I felt stupid, of course--I didn't exactly want to be the girl who was swept off her feet; who immediately fell head over heels for the first promiscuous boy who caught her eye. But I was becoming her, and I couldn't stop it.

I showered, trying to wash the night off of me. At quarter to noon, I crept down the stairs with squinty eyes. Light affected them, and my head pounded with each step. I snuck into the kitchen, rummaging through the top cabinet. I pushed aside a bottle of prescribed pills, and a receipt fell to the floor. I quickly snatched it up and put it back, as I heard the sound of a door opening behind me.

I flipped my head around, and saw Mom standing at the entrance of the kitchen with her arms folded. She was wearing pajama pants, but she looked surprisingly awake. "What are you doing?" she asked me in a stern voice, and I nonchalantly shut the cabinet.

"Nothing, Mom," I told her, shrugging. "I had a headache, so I was looking for some ibuprofen. Good morning." She narrowed her eyes at me, but I didn't yield to her suspicions. "We must not have anymore," I told her, strolling to the pantry and removing a box of Frosted Flakes.

Mom sighed, rubbing her eyes with her palm. "I'll pick some up at Walmart this week."

"What've you been doing?" I asked her, and then cleared my throat. "Yesterday, I mean."

Mom shrugged, similar to the way I had when I'd told her that I was looking for ibuprofen. "Oh, nothing much, sweetie. Just, well--" She fixed her hair, her fingers tangling behind her ear. "Cleaning, laundry. Things your mother usually does."

A feeling of dread wedged its way into my bones. Not again, I thought. It was just last week when I'd been walking home from Jasmine's house at seven in the evening, and had seen Mom walking into the house with a man. A man other than my father. Older than my father. Shorter, less handsome, and more pathetic. I'd been plagued by the afterimage of that man for the last week, though I'd never physically seen him with Mom after that day. I had hoped he would be gone; I hoped Mom would realize that she'd made a mistake.

I could only imagine what Dad would think if he knew. I missed him more than almost anything, even while it was almost too easy to do the things I wanted while he was away. But he was absent in other places where I wish he was present. At my volleyball matches--he had been the one who'd supported me through both my worst losses and most triumphant successes. At my school concerts. At home, when my mother was in the midst of deciding which men were better than the man she was married to.

I asked Mom about the other man on Sunday. I caught her in the living room, and interrogated her, questioning her about who he was, and why he was at our house. She told me that it "wasn't like that" and that he was the family lawyer; the two of them had just been discussing an old issue.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on.

I threw a glance towards her closed bedroom door, suddenly wondering if there was someone behind it. "You know," I told her, setting down the box of cereal and purposefully walking in the direction of the bedroom. "I think I left my hairbrush in your room last night--"

My eyes were trained on the door, and as I passed, Mom reached a hand out and grabbed my arm. Her grip was stronger than I expected. She let go, and cleared her throat. "What were you doing in my room, Carina?"

"Um, well, I had to borrow some of your makeup last night. You weren't around for me to ask you, so I figured you'd be okay with it."

"Makeup?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. I fought the urge to roll my eyes; I didn't want to have to tell my mother that I'd been on a date at some prestigious party. But in realizing that lesser information could be sacrificed for the acquisition of more important details, I acquiesced to her inquiry.

I shrugged, trying to appear unfazed. "I had a date last night."

Mom's eyebrows rose. "With whom?"

"A boy from work," I told her simply, and then tried to push past her to get to the bedroom. My arm was snagged again.

"I'll get it," Mom told me with a reserved smile. I was almost sure of it now; she was hiding something. I just need proof.

"No," I said, "I'll get it." There was a moment where we both looked one another in the eye, staring into each other and knowing what the other knew, but not wanting to admit it.

Conveniently, the doorbell rang. Mom shot me a grim look, and rushed to the door. As she opened it, I had thoughts of running to Mom's bedroom door and throwing it open to reveal all of the secrets she'd been keeping. But that was before I saw who was at the door.

Riley.

Dammit. Right on time, I thought sarcastically, and practically shoved Mom aside. She complied, walking away, after she sent me a quick raise of the eyebrows. I knew what she'd tell me later. "He's cute, Carrie. You should keep him. I mean, look at that face. And did I mention he's cute?"

I dismissed my thoughts and turned to look at Riley; he was wearing a gray T-shirt, shoulders splattered with rain. Water was pouring down his face and trickling behind his ears; his hair was soaked. His hands were holding my shoes from last night like they were prized trophies. His mouth was half-open, staring at me, like he was at a loss for words. Cute was an understatement; gorgeous was more accurate.

I took the shoes from him, not knowing what to do with them. I set them down on the hardwood. "Thanks," I said, hoping he didn't see me blush. I was suddenly self-conscious about my outfit. I was wearing leggings and one of Jen's show-offy Yale sweatshirts. She'd left it in my room about a year ago; I'd been keeping it and wearing it when she wasn't around. Not knowing what to say, I asked, "Do you wanna come in?"

He looked surprised, eyebrows raising, and then his cheeks went a little pink. I couldn't imagine he was bashful. "Sure. I mean, I'd like that."

I turned to go get him a towel, not able to help the smile that threatened to ruin my stony expression. I found one in the mudroom closet, and brought it back to him, putting it over his shoulders like Mom used to do when I got out of the pool.

"Thanks," he said, biting his lip, which was kind of hot. I tried not to think about it, and cleared my throat.

"So, after you dry off, we can, um--" I struggled for words, and then asked, "Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure," he said immediately, drying his face with the towel.

"Okay," I said, combing my hair back with my hand. I started counting off on my fingers. "We have water, milk, Sprite, Coke, and um...juice?"

"Coke's good," he said, like he knew what he wanted before I asked. His blue eyes met mine for a second, before he looked away to stare up at the painting my Dad had centered over the piano when I was younger.

"Just hold on a second," I assured him, before I rushed into the kitchen. Mom must've moseyed her way back into the bedroom. The thought of it made me nauseous. I poured Riley's Coke into a mug and brought it to him, my fingers tangling with his as I handed it off. Riley looked like one of those kids in the movies, with a blanket and a mug of hot cocoa. Except the blanket was a towel, the hot cocoa was a Coke, and this wasn't a movie.

I cleared my throat, and placed both of my hands in my sweatshirt pockets.

"Yale, huh?" he asked, desperate to break the silence.

"No--" I stuttered, "Not me. My sister goes to Yale, and I stole her sweatshirt." I put my finger to my lips with a faint smile. "It's a secret, so don't tell."

He laughed, a little. His laugh was like a little kid's; he threw his head back and his lips curled into a smile. It was more adorable than it should've been, and I cursed myself for being so susceptible to those sorts of things.

"We can sit in the living room and watch TV, if you want," I told him, trying to sound confident.

"Okay," he said. Then his eyebrows rose, and he kind of pointed one hand out to the side. "D'you think it's okay for me to sit on the couch? I mean, I'm kinda wet from standing outside in the rain."

"Well, sure, it's not a crime. But I can put a blanket down," I told him, and rushed back over to the closet, grabbing two towels and layering them on the couch.

"You're sweet, thanks," he said, layering his damp towel on top of the other two, and sitting down, Coke in hand.

"It's no problem," I replied, and sat next to him. There was about a foot of space between us. As I fumbled with the remote and flipped through the channels, Riley was staring at me. I tried not to notice, changing the channel even when I saw a show I liked, desperately just wanting to be doing something. I couldn't stand the awkward silence.

Suddenly, Riley exclaimed, "Two Broke Girls!" pointing at the television. Startled, I stopped changing channels as Two Broke Girls began playing on the TV. I glanced back at Riley, and he shifted on the couch, fixing his shirt. He quickly cleared his throat. "I mean, if that's what you wanna watch."

A smile spread across my face. "You watch Two Broke Girls?" I teased him, poking him in the stomach. He jerked away.

"No," he lied, but his lips curled up into that endearing smile.

"We can leave it on, just in case you're lying and just don't wanna embarrass yourself," I said, setting down the remote. "Because someone like you liking Two Broke Girls is definitely embarrassing." I smiled at him again.

"I don't like it," Riley protested half-heartedly.

"We can leave it on," I said again.

Our exchange was short-lived; the elephant was still in the room. I endured five awkward minutes of Two Broke Girls, sitting a foot apart from Riley in silence, like we were two school-kids watching the same video for homework.

Suddenly, Riley turned to me. He'd been glancing at me the whole time, on and off, hands rubbing the thighs of his jeans. His lips parted, hair still damp and sticking up in places. "D'you wanna talk about what happened?" he asked.

"No," I blurted out, too quickly. "I mean, no, I don't want to."

"Well, d'you think we should?" he asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. "No," I said, because the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. It was easier not to.

Riley looked forward again, and then turned abruptly to face me. "D'you like pool?" he asked. "Like, d'you know how to play?"

Confused, I nodded. "Well," he said, "I happen to have this pool table in my basement. I used to play with my dad, but he hasn't had the time lately. So, I dunno, wanna come over and play?" Play. "Pool, I mean," he added quickly. "It might help."

Help with what? I wondered.

I doubted his intentions were that chaste, but I decided to take the risk. In a way, I couldn't help it. "Okay," I told him. "Sure."

~Hawthorne~

Rowing through the Aisles of the grocery with my cart, I perused the selection in front of me, not really seeing anything as I went. Agatha would be gone for the next two weeks, so I would have the house to myself. She didn't tell me what it was for, and I didn't ask. Not that she would have told me anyway. For me, it would be silence. Blessed silence for two weeks. No yelling. No hitting. No pain. Just....

Silence.

Silence meant that the nightmares would come back in full force. Nothing I could really do about those though. Maybe they would get better with time if I could ever get out from under Agatha's thumb. Wouldn't that be a miracle though? If she could have it her way, I would be chained to a wall down in the basement until I died.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I looked around to find myself in the cereal aisle. Hm. Turning to face the extensive collection of Cereals, I pondered the boundless options I had in front of me. Did I really want Cereal? Not at the moment, but sometimes most likely in the near future. But what would I want? Something sweet? Chocolatey? Crunchy? I was facing a dilemma.

"To eat or not to eat." I bit my lower lip. "That is the question."

Indeed it was. I sighed, my bangs momentarily pushing away from my forehead before falling back into place. I could always come back later.

"I can always come back later." I nodded, heading to the next aisle.

Then I stopped in my tracks. What was I doing here? Groceries. Right. I continued on my way. Since I wasn't looking for anything specific, who knew how long it would take me to finish shopping. Not that it mattered though. Agatha wasn't at the house to terrorize me, and it felt nice to just be out doing something. I'd gotten a job waiting tables at a well known restaurant to stay out of the house as much as possible, and that was the only time I was able to leave the house. Unless I was at work, Agatha wouldn't let me leave the house. It was one of the reason why I dropped off the radar. I hadn't seen or talked to Rupert, Dafnie, Cole, or Merrick since I had help out more with Abraham. I'd heard that Jesse and Adrian got engaged at a party Rupert had thrown, which I had been invited to, but was unable to attend.

Turning down the next aisle, I found myself looking at the salty delights known as chips. I spotted the Ridged chips and snatched up a bag. Spotting a bag of tortilla chips, I grabbed that too, as well as two jars of store brand cheese dip will a childlike glee that had long since eluded me. Next stop, Fruit snacks. Those Fruit by the Foot were calling my name.



Finishing up with the groceries, I headed to checkout. While I hadn't filled the cart up, there was a sizable amount. It was going to be fun trying to lug the bags into the house. With a sigh, I kept forward until I heard something that made me take pause. A crying a baby and familiar voice. Moving toward the sound, I ended up on the baby food aisle.

"Shhh," the familiar voice said. "It's ok baby."

She had the lightest blonde hair i'd ever seen. Tall, though not as tall as me with a somewhat slight frame. Why did she look so familiar? As she turned around, I realized why. It was Jessie Gates. The last time i'd seen her, she was heavily pregnant with the baby boy and just about to deliver, Isaac if memory serves me correctly, who was currently in her arms.

And wailing like it was nobody's business as Jessie tried to pick something up off the ground because her child was squirming. Moving towards he, I bent down to pick up the object Jessie was unable to, Turns out it was a binky, which is probably why Isaac was having fit.

"Here you go." I handed it back to her.

She sighed gratefully. "Thank you so much."

She looked up at me as she smiled, recognition becoming dominant in her eyes as she saw my face. "Hawthorne?"

"The one and only." I smiled back. "How have you been?"

"Let me tell you, there is never a dull moment, she laughed. "Especially not with this little man."

"I wouldn't doubt it." I stuck my finger in his tiny hand. "He's already so big."

He gave it a squeeze with an adorably bubbly laugh, his eyes sparkling as if he had the stars in them.

"Someone seems to be smitten with you." Jessie smiled.

"I've always been good with children." I shrugged. "I do a lot of baby sitting for my neighbors. I'm the only one who can seem to keep those little demons in line."

Isaac must have found that funny, laughing like someone was tickling his adorable little feet and giggling. How cute!! And then he reached for me.

I looked at her. "Do you mind?"

"Sure. Why not?" she shrugged.

Handing Isaac to me, I cradled his head in my hand, an enormous smile growing on my face as he began playing with my hair.

"Hey there little man." I played with his little hand, then leaning forward to run his nose against my. "Eskimo kisses."

He gave a bubbly giggle his bright eyes sparkling like he had the night sky in them.

"You certainly do have a way with kids." Jessie laughed.

I kissed Isaac's forehead before handing him back to Jessie. "They seem to love me."

Jessie hoisted Isaac up on her side as she looked back me. Running a hand through my hair, I stopped in my track as I saw the shock on her ace. I snatched my hand from my hand with an awkward laugh.

"Are you ok?" Jessie asked with concerned from on her face as she frowned.

I'd actually forgotten about the black eye I had.

I tried laughing, not quite pulling it off. "I tripped, fell, and smashed my eye on a doorknob."

Which was true. After Agatha shoved me into it. She's been much more temperamental than lately, snapping at little to nothing. Not having to look over my shoulder constantly is a relief, though not a habit that's easily broken.

"That must have been one heck of a fall." she grimaced.

"Trust me," I nod. "It was."

I glanced at my watch. Something i'd been planning to do was make spaghetti and with Garlic bread and then watch one a movie to relax and celebrate the first day in the house by myself. Maybe now that Agatha was out of the house, I could invite the Cole and Dafnie over for a girl's night. Pulling out of my thoughts, I noticed the ring on Jessie's finger.

"Oh! I forgot to congratulate you on your engagement." I motioned to her ring.

"Oh, thank you." she smiled brightly. "It's been so hectic ever since. With little Isaac here and planning the wedding."

"I'm free for the next few weeks to lend a hand if you need another." I offer. "I've always been good at organizing and getting things done. I'd be happy to lighten your load."

"I would really appreciate that." she beamed. "But I don't want to ask so much of you. I mean, we aren't even really that close."

"It's ok." I waved her concern off. "I really don't mind."

Going back to my cart, I Grabbed my note pad and pen, then wrote down my number.

"Just call me if you need something, whether it related to the wedding or just watching Isaac." I handed the piece of paper.

She took the paper, sticking it in her purse. "I really appreciate it, Hawthorne."

I smiled back. "It's really no problem, but I have to go now. I've got frozen stuff in my cart that I need to get home."

"Alright then. I guess I'll talk to you later?" Jessie asked.

"Absolutely." I nodded. "Tell Adrian I said hi!"

I waved at her and then at Isaac before heading down the aisle and going to check out. My stomach was telling me it wanted Spaghetti with Garlic Bread, and I couldn't just let it go unanswered. Off to the house I go.

~Merrick~

I jerked up in bed, sweat dripping from my body and breathing raggedly.

"Merrick!" Came a familiar voice. "Get your ass up!"

Rupert? Running a hand through my hair, I sat up in bed, moving to go unlock the door. I usually leave it unlocked at night, but stopped. There was an incident one night where I'd just gotten out of the shower, and Amara decided to come into my room while she thought I was sleeping and take my phone charger, and walked in on me completely naked.

"Yo man." Rupert walked by me, dropping down into the desk chair beside my bed. "Did you forget we had plans to go get Coffee?"

Actually, I had. Not that I would tel him that. "Forgot to set my alarm."

"Well hurry up." Rupert swiveled in the chair. "Cole's downstairs waiting."

Moving to my closet, I grabbed a pair of Levi blue jeans and a plain black tee. After wiping the remnants of sweat off myself with a towel i'd dampened, I put on deodorant. After pulling on my shirt and pants, I grabbed my shoes and socks, quickly donning those. After snatching up, my keys, phone, and wallet I followed after Rupert as he made his way to the door.

"Must have been some dream you had, by the way," Rupert smirked as he walked past me and down the stairs.

I sighed, saying nothing to his comment as I closed the door to the room. Heading down after him, the first thing I heard was Cole's laugh before I got into the living room. Dad was sitting in front of her with a smile on his face as I walked in.

"You were still asleep when Rupert get here, so I let him in." he stood up. "I thought you guys were going to be a while, so I kept her company."

He winked at her, and she smiled back as she stood.

"Thanks." I nodded. "We're going out for Coffee. Want anything?"

"I can make my own Coffee." he shook his head. "You kids go get your caffeine fix like the little junkies you are and have fun."

"Alright. Call me if you need anything." I called as we all walked out of the door.

We loaded up and rolled out.



After ordering, we grabbed seats at a high table by the window while we waited.

"I can't wait to sink my teeth into this Spicy Chorizo, Monterey Jack, and Egg Breakfast Sandwich." Rupert smiled wide. "Those things are freaking tasty."

I ordered on of those as well, though I'd never tried that sandwich before. I would know soon enough whether it was good or not.

"So..." Rupert looked at me.

I almost sighed. I knew where this was going.

"What did you dream about?" He asked.

Cole looked at me, curiosity in her eyes.

"Hawthorne." he stated more than asked.

"Has anyone talked with her lately?" Cole looked at her phone. "I haven't talked to her since she stopped going to school."

"Something about her grandfather being really sick." Rupert answered. "Cancer, I think. I haven't talked to her either though, so I don't know much else."

"I guess i'm just worried about her." she sighed.

"You've got every reason to be worried." Rupert ran a hand through his hair.

Cole frowned at him. "Rupert."

He just shrugged. I looked at Cole. "What does he mean by that?"

"Just that I can be hard to deal with a family member having cancer." she tried to smile, not quite pulling it off.

"His tone implied something else." I looked at him.

"Just that her grandmother is handful." his laughed humorlessly. "She could have been hanging with us right now if it weren't for that old bat."

Before I could say anything someone came over with our orders. Not that I would have gotten anything out of Rupert. He was already digging into his sandwich, which smelled pretty good as I took my first bite. Tasted even better.

"I wonder what Dafnie's doing." Cole said thoughtfully, pulling out her phone.

"See if she wants to join." Rupert finished off the last bite of his sandwich. "We're gonna be here for a while. I could eat five more of these."

I nodded not saying anything as I finished off the last bite of mine. I could go for a few more myself. Taking a sip of my coffee, I checked the time. It was only 9:45. Cole texted Dafnie, and said she would be here in a few. While we waited, both Rupert and I ordered another sandwich. Cole still hand't finished her first one when Dafnie got here.

"Hey you guys." she grabbed the seat next to me. "What did I miss?"

"Food." Rupert said through a bite of his sandwich.

"Did you order?" I looked at her.

"Sure did." she nodded. "I got two breakfast sandwiches. I'm freakin' hungry. Thanks for asking me out. Not like I had anything better to do at home."

"You're welcome." Cole smiled at her.

Someone brought Dafnie's order, along with ours, and we chowed down.We sat and talked for a bit, eating more sandwiches and having more Coffee. Hawthorne was always in the back of my mind as I ate and talked with everyone, never completely out of my thoughts. I'd just finished another sandwich when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Dad had texted me.

I need you to come into the Studio to fill in for someone who's out sick.

I answered back. Alright. On the way.

Sticking my phone back in my pocket, I stood up. "Gotta go you guys. My dad needs me to fill in for someone who called in sick for work."

"Later dude." Rupert said through a bite of his sandwich.

Cole and Dafnie waved as I headed out, and I waved back. We'd taken my car here, but since Dafnie had shown up, she would drop be able them back off at my place where Rupert left his car. I hopped into my car and headed out.

Dafnie Serena Leto

Seeing Cole, Rup, and Merrick for breakfast was a great idea. I just couldn't sleep all night, so I was up at like eight. Which isn't normal for the summer. I tend to get up at twelve or one in the afternoon. But since I was awake, I could make myself stay up by seeing my friends.

The weather outside was ideal, high temperatures but the wind cooled you down every few minutes. Today was one of those rare days that the sun shone through the clouds.

I had ordered for myself a hot herbal tea and a chocolate croissant. I wasn't into breakfast too much and coffee gave me anxiety. So, I dealt with this yumminess. Honestly, after Merrick dipped I felt like I'd be the third wheel. But thank God I wasn't.

What was great about seeing Merrick was because I had realized I don' have this crush on him anymore. Now Hawthorne could be with him without worrying about me. All I thought about was Tom Felton.

"Hey, have you spoken with Paul?" Colette had asked me.

She was just finishing off her sandwich while Rupert looked up from his phone, intrigued by her question. I'm not surprised either. This whole 'Paul and I' situation has caused a lot of problems and worry. I mean, we were best friends and now, we don't even look at each other.

It's so weird how you could be so close with someone and then be so far away.

I felt my throat dry up and my heart race as I imagined Paul's face. It's been a while.

"No," I replied, sipping my tea.

Tension set between the three of us for a few seconds making me want to run away. It was that awkward tension when you knew that you did wrong and you can't get back from it.

"I haven't seen him, at all." Rupert decided to cut through the tension. "Maybe you should see if he's okay? He can't just fall off the face of the planet."

"Look Rupert," I huffed, knowing I was growing red in the face, "We should be worried about Hawthorne because with her terrible bat of a grandmother, she cannot help herself. Paul can take care of himself. He's a big fucking kid." I couldn't catch my breath.

"Alright, I mean... I know about Thorne... it's just." Rupert tried.

"No, can we drop it?" I asked sternly. "Can. We. Drop. Paul."

Silence set across the table as Colette nodded, looking over at Rupert. He looked back as if for confirmation and nodded, saying a soft yes under his breath.

"Thanks," I loosened up. "Sorry, it's just... sore topic? Okay?"

"Yeah, I get it Daffy." Cole smiled at me. I don't think she's ever called me that before.

"Thanks," I said again.

"Hey, Cole, are you okay with the whole Adrian Jessie thing?" I asked.

She had just took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, of course I am. He's my cousin, and if he's happy, that's all that matters."

I nodded with a smile and sipped my tea. The music in the shop was typical coffee house music, like a Starbucks. People were coming in and out, yearning for their morning brew to start the day. And from the smell of it, I could tell the beans were a little burnt.

My phone had vibrated on the table next to my plate. It was Philip.

Daf, hey.

Smiling, I felt a fire grow at the pit of my stomach. I picked up my phone and replied a hey back.

"Who's got you all tickled?" Rupert smirked.

"What? No. It's just Philip." I replied.

Cole and him gave each other looks. Couples could read each others' minds, for real. And, well, best friends. Colette and I do that too. Or maybe it's just Cole... she can read minds.

"Okay," Rupert just rose an eyebrow at me.

"Dude, he's with Isabelle. I'm not fucking with that again."

"Isabelle seems to date the guys you end up liking after she starts dating them. Do you like her leftovers?" and somehow the old Rupert was springing out of his shell.

My heart fell as I tried to catch my breath. I couldn't believe he had said that. I didn't know if I wanted to cry or to punch him in the face. No, I wanted to punch him in the face. I couldn't feel my blood rush to my face as my hands clenched into fists under the table.

"Rupert!" Colette spat. "What has gotten into you?"

"What? Haven't you noticed a pattern?" he commented.

"Rupert, I think you need to go home." She huffed.

"What?" he rose an eyebrow.

"Cole, it's fine. I can see his point." I commented.

She looked from him to me, her face the perfect depiction of the permanent bitch face. I swallowed hard and looked at Rupert. He was red in the face and somehow looked defeated. Seemed to me that he noticed his wrongs.

"Dafnie, darling, he's wrong. You liked Paul for a while and you noticed when he got involved. And Philip... you do not have feelings for him. Don't you still like Merrick?" Cole always knew how to use that mother voice to make me feel better.

"I don't have feelings for Philip. He's just a really good friend and I'm really happy to have him. So Rupert, sorry. I'm not that girl."

"No, I'm sorry." he sighed. "I just, assumed, and I assumed wrong. I just... thought about the old you. I'm sorry. Of course you don't have feelings for Philip..." he couldn't finish his sentence because he had looked up with a smile at someone behind me.

"Who doesn't have feelings for me?" Philip laughed from behind me.