 
 IN THE  
MIDDLE OF  
NOWHERE

Julie Ann Knudsen
Copyright © 2012 by Julie Ann Knudsen. Cover and CHAPTER heading image copyright © Cover and CHAPTER heading image copyright © Yulia | Dreamstime.com.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Smashwords Edition: August 2013

## CONTENTS

BOOKS BY JULIE ANN KNUDSEN | DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | CHAPTER NINETEEN | CHAPTER TWENTY | CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN | CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT | CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | CHAPTER THIRTY | CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE | CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO | CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE | CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR | CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE | CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX | CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN | CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT | CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE | CHAPTER FORTY | EPILOGUE

ABOUT JULIE ANN KNUDSEN

##   BOOKS BY  
JULIE ANN KNUDSEN

The Complete Trilogy:

_In the Middle of Nowhere_ – Book 1

_Somewhere at Last_ – Book 2

_Everywhere I'd Go_ – Book 3

www.julieannknudsen.com

To my family.  
This book wouldn't have been possible without your support.

##   CHAPTER  
ONE

My iPod blared through my room and woke me instantly. My eyes snapped open, but I quickly knew there was a problem. Half of my body was still asleep. I rolled onto my back and realized that my whole left side was completely numb. In a matter of seconds, the numbness went away and was replaced by the feeling of thousands of tiny pins and needles jabbing me.

I had to get up before the music traveled through my paper-thin walls and woke my brother. I jumped out of bed, forgetting about the shooting pain in my left hand, arm and leg. I stumbled as I reached my dresser, but managed to switch off my iHome before collapsing onto the floor.

I sprawled on my back, on top of my white shag area rug. I moved my arms up and down making fake snow angels like I did when I was a kid, hoping to rid myself of the pain that consumed more than just my left side.

If I could have, I would have stayed on my floor for the rest of the day, for the rest of my life. I knew I'd never hear the end of it if I ran behind and missed the ferryboat to school. My mother would scream from one end of the house all the way to the other, as she swept up cat hair and hurried my brother and me along.

As I moved my limbs up and down I thought about how wonderful it would be if I could travel back in time to when I was little again, to a time when I was truly happy. Back then, my realities were Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and my only worry was how these mystical bearers of gifts would enter my house, undetected, and not set off our alarm system.

Even though the numbness was fading from the outside of my body, I couldn't help but sense as though it was taking over the inside of me. I wanted to feel again. I wanted my old life back, my old school, my old friends and my old mom.

Then I heard it, the unmistakable footsteps as they climbed the hardwood stairs and traveled across the hallway floor, reverberating toward my room at the very end.

I jumped up and quickly locked my door before anyone could open it.

The knocking came anyway.

"Getting dressed," I yelled. "Be right down."

I threw off my pj's, grabbed a T-shirt and pair of jeans and headed toward the bathroom where I would attempt to get ready for another useless and sucky day.

• • •

I almost missed the 7:00 A.M. ferry that was to take me across Casco Bay from my new home on Pike's Island to the Maine State Pier in Portland's Old Port section. Unlike the elementary school, which was located on the island, the junior high and high schools were located three miles across the bay, on what the locals referred to as the "mainland." Portland had two high schools, which made the student body of my sophomore class a manageable size of about two hundred kids.

Everyday, the other year-round students and I would take the Casco ferryboat to and from school, even in the cold, dead of winter. I couldn't imagine what it would be like crossing the small inlet of ocean in the middle of January, even if it were only going to be for twenty minutes. There was a closed cabin and heaters inside, but I was chilled to the bone most days and it was still only the middle of September.

Once there, the other kids and I would board the dull, yellow school bus that would take us on a mile-long drive and drop us in front of the cold, concrete steps that led to the large and looming front entrance of Portland High.

Everyday after I got dropped off at the dock, my mother would head back and bring my brother, James, to his elementary school, which was a block away from our house on the island.

And just as I had suspected, my mother ranted and raved about how late the two of us had been that morning.

"Hurry up and get in the car!" she yelled. "You'll both have to eat dry cereal again today."

My mom grabbed her car keys, while James and I grabbed our backpacks and headed out the door. We were lucky that she was even awake and able to drive us at all.

I missed the days when my mother would gently and lovingly wake me before school. She would sneak into my bedroom and plant butterfly kisses on my plump, seven-year-old cheeks. Sometimes my mom would even wear her favorite lime-green, paisley apron as she happily made homemade, chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, right after she propped up a bottle for my baby brother as he lay in his bouncy seat.

I could sense that poor baby James wanted to eat the pancakes, too, as his little blue eyes followed the fork from the plate right into my mouth before I began to chew the yummy meal.

Today we had to make do with the tiny boxes of cereal we always had on hand in case of an emergency, like the one this morning.

I relished the quiet car ride as I munched on my Froot Loops. I stared out the window at the homes and street signs we passed on our way to the ferry and read: JUNIPER, MAGNOLIA and WISTERIA. I wanted to try and memorize all the names because, even though the island was only ten miles by twelve miles wide, I still found myself getting lost sometimes when I'd venture outdoors, in need of some alone time.

James broke the silence and spoke with a mouthful of Cheerios. "When can I go on the ferryboat to school? That's not fair that Willow can go on it and I can't!"

I turned around from the front seat and shot him a dirty look. My eight-year-old brother was so annoying and his ridiculous question didn't even deserve an answer. Our mom gave him one anyway.

"I told you before, James. You have two more years on the island and then you'll take the ferry over to Portland for middle school. Only _two_ more," my mother emphasized as she held up two of her fingers.

Thankfully, our Jeep Cherokee pulled up to the pier and I climbed out, but not before my mom rolled down her window.

"Have a nice day!" she shouted after me, loud enough for the other kids to hear. They turned and stared. I was completely embarrassed. I gave my mom a quick wave, turned and braced myself before boarding the boat ride to hell.

##   CHAPTER  
TWO

Pike's Island was among over two hundred islands that were scattered throughout the Gulf of Maine's Casco Bay, a small area of water in the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean. Pike's was located a few miles off the coast and was one of the four islands that was inhabited year-round. Pike's Island was the largest and had a population of approximately two thousand people in the winter, but swelled to over six thousand residents during the summer.

Most people, including those living in New England, didn't know that this small group of islands even existed, let alone that people lived on them and had to rely on boats to get to and from civilization.

My family and I ended up in this cold, remote place after a tragic set of circumstances drove us here. I was ten years old when my father, while on his way home from work, was killed instantly after he was hit, head on, by a drunken driver. The male driver was an illegal immigrant, had no license, no insurance and died a week later.

My father was a supervisor at a manufacturing plant that made engine parts for helicopters. The company was a small, family-owned business and after my father died, my family no longer received any of his benefits. Fortunately, my mom had a job as the head librarian at the local community college in our small Massachusetts town and we were able to get health insurance and other benefits through her.

I was lucky because, even though I was young when he died, I still had memories of my dad. My poor brother, James, however, who was not yet three when he passed, was too young to recall very much about him. My recollection of the accident and the night the policemen showed up on our doorstep remained somewhat foggy. I don't know if I blocked out these terrible memories or if I, too, was not old enough to fully remember them.

What I can recall from the days following his death was that there seemed to be hundreds of people who filtered in and out of our home and even more who showed up at his funeral to pay their respects. My mother felt that James was too little and would be disruptive during the service, so he stayed back home with a sitter. Despite standing as close to my mother's side as I could, even burying my face into the folds of her black woolen skirt, I still felt afraid in the big, cold cathedral as each of the mourners passed and expressed their deepest sympathies.

My father didn't have any living relatives close by. He was an only child and both his mother and father had died long before I was born. That made my mom, brother and me his only survivors.

It was clear that everyone adored my father, especially me, his only daughter. He called me his princess all the time and when he really wanted to butter me up to help him with some unpleasant chore, he'd call me Willie.

"Willie? Where are you, sweetie?" he'd called. "Come and help your old man with the trash."

Reluctantly I'd emerge from my hiding place feeling guilty if I didn't pitch in.

"I don't know how our family of four can generate so much garbage," he'd say as he dragged the cans toward the curb. "Baby James barely eats at all, and what he does eat ends up in his diaper anyway."

My father would roll his merry, blue eyes, slap the side of his head and act all surprised.

"That's it," he'd say with a smile as he plugged his nose. "I'll betcha that half of this trash is your brother's dirty, stinky diapers!"

We'd both laugh as we finished up our trash duty. Afterwards, my father, on cue, would stop and stoop forward. I'd take a running leap onto his back and wrap my skinny limbs around him before beginning our journey up the long driveway into our warm and cozy, trash-less home.

• • •

My mom and dad didn't have a lot of money and the meager life insurance policy that my dad did have mostly went to pay for the cost of his burial. My mom was able to keep up with the mortgage payments, but sometimes there was little else to spend at the end of the month once food was bought and other bills were paid.

As hard as it was to have lost my dad, we were consoled by the fact that we were able to remain in the house he treasured so much. He'd renovated most of it with his own two, calloused hands after he and my mother purchased the three-bedroom Cape at a very low price. My mother was afraid the walls would cave in and fall down around us the moment we moved in, but my dad loved the fixer-upper and promised to make it as good as new for her.

My dad built beautiful oak bunk beds for James, even though he was still in a crib, and an ornate dollhouse, with a working chandelier and tiny drawbridge for me. It was no coincidence that my dollhouse resembled more of an elegant castle than a comfy home as he made it especially for me, his princess.

As comforting as it was to stay in our house, it wouldn't be forever as I had hoped. Toward the end of my freshman year of high school, the community college where my mother worked downsized their staff due to a decline in enrollment. And because my mother was paid the most in her department, she was let go first.

I had never seen my mother cry so much except after my father had died and couldn't have realized at the time that this would now be the norm for most days to follow. I didn't know how to help or what I could do to comfort her. I gently patted her shoulder as she sat at the kitchen table and cried over her cup of coffee and the want-ad section of our local newspaper.

"Everything's gonna be all right, Mom," I tried to reassure her. I was only fifteen years old, but so desperately wanted to believe it, too. She touched my hand, but never looked up. I know she didn't want me to see her tears.

After months of failed attempts at finding a job that would keep us in our house, my mother had no choice but to put it up for sale and make plans for moving out. The problem, however, was that we had no place to go. With no job, no income and very little coming in from unemployment, our choices were limited even if we wanted to rent a cheap apartment in our small town. My mother's parents were older and couldn't afford to support us. They already were on a fixed income living in their fifty-five and older community. We couldn't have moved in with them even if we had wanted to. No children were allowed.

After tearful meetings and endless phone calls with my mother's older brother, Ron, my grandmother arranged for our family to sell our beloved house. Before we knew what hit us, we found ourselves packing up our lives and saying good-bye to everything we knew and loved before relocating to my uncle's summerhouse, far away, on an island, in the middle of nowhere.

##   CHAPTER  
THREE

The other students and I shuffled through the hallways of Portland High as we headed to our homerooms. I took a seat in the back of the classroom and laid my head down on top of my books. I was still cold and tired and couldn't warm up no matter how hard I tried. I must have dozed off for a minute or two and dreamt that someone was calling my name. I came crashing back to reality when my name was called even louder this time.

"Willow Flynn!" Mr. Singer yelled out as part of his morning roll call.

I looked up and raised my hand. "Here."

I put my head back down on my pile of knowledge and forced myself to stay awake.

"Tessa Anderson?" Mr. Singer sang. Sure, he called my name with venom in his voice, but called out to Tessa as if he were reciting poetry. "Tessa?"

Mr. Singer scanned the classroom. Perfect Tessa Anderson was nowhere to be found. He gave up.

"Michael Cooper."

Michael Cooper was sitting two rows to the left of me, but didn't answer. Instead, he stared at me and smiled. Nervously, I kept my head down and looked away.

"Michael Cooper! I see you back there," Mr. Singer shouted. "Answer me!"

Michael slowly turned toward the teacher. "Sorry. Here."

Just then Tessa Anderson sailed into the room, waved to Mr. Singer and sat. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Singer. My locker was jammed and I couldn't get it to open." She was such a suck up and a liar.

"Not a worry, Tessa," Mr. Singer beamed. "Just glad you made it here at all."

Mr. Singer was so creepy looking with his long, bushy sideburns and slicked back, greasy hair. He was stuck in the 80s and looked as if he were hoping to win "best costume" at a retro-themed Halloween party.

I must have dozed off again for a split second, but was awakened after something hit me in the head. I looked down and saw a tiny paper airplane on the floor next to my feet. I sat up and looked around.

There was Michael Cooper, with his intense, dark eyes, smiling at me again. He was starting to give the creeps as much as Mr. Singer.

He mouthed to me, "Read it."

I picked the airplane off the floor and opened it. Inside, scribbled in pencil, was a note.

"Sweet dreams, my dear,

Sweet dreams, you dare?

Be done with dreams

And face your fear."

What the heck was that supposed to mean? I glanced over at Michael but his back was to me as he coughed and faced the plate glass window. I crumpled up the airplane and stuck it in my coat pocket. I'd toss it in the garbage on my way out of homeroom. But I needed to get outta there fast in case Creepy Cooper tried to talk to me.

I looked at the clock. The minute hand ticked. The bell rang. Homeroom over. I bolted for the door and ran straight into Tessa Anderson.

"Sorry," I apologized.

She shot me a dirty look. "Chill," she said, before twirling back around and hitting me in the face with her long, shiny blonde hair. Tessa looked exactly like the sort of girl who'd be smack in the middle of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, while my picture would be plastered on the side of a box of apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal.

I rolled my eyes, tossed the note into the trash and raced into the hallway, hoping to disappear into the abyss of other swarming students.

##   CHAPTER  
FOUR

It wasn't long before my mother found a job working as the assistant librarian at my brother's elementary school. She was thrilled because, even though it was only part-time, all three of us would now be eligible to receive health insurance. The money wasn't great, but we were living rent free, as my uncle owned the house we now called home on Juniper Drive.

By mid-October, the ferryboat ride to school was even colder than I ever could have imagined. I zipped up my Down North Face jacket all the way to my nose and huddled against the window directly under one of the heating vents. I still was unable to warm up on the inside, no matter how many layers I piled on the outside.

The first month and a half of school passed without much excitement. I was doing well in my courses because all I did in my free time was study since my social life was completely non-existent.

Thank God for the Internet and FunForum.com where I could connect online with three of my best friends back in Massachusetts. Our friendships began when we were just seven years old and stuck in the same second grade class. It continued to blossom throughout middle school, right on into high school. Secretly, we called ourselves the "Fab Four." We were very close and knew everything about each other. We weren't in the popular group like some of the other girls, but we knew we could count on one another. At the end of the day, we always had each other's backs.

Luckily, all three of my friends and I had computers with built-in cameras. We would all sign on to FunForum at the same time and chat for hours on end. It was my salvation while living on the cold and lonely island.

I had told the girls about Michael Cooper and his creepiness back in September, about how he tried to friend me on MyWeb and how I had deleted his request.

Gabby had commented first. "Give him a chance, Willow. He looks kinda cute in his profile picture."

"Yeah, cute if you're into devil worshipping!" Sarah chimed in. Everybody had laughed, except for me.

Becca sensed my unhappiness and tried to take control of the situation. "Stop it, guys! We need to support Willow and whatever choices she makes, even it's embarking on a relationship with the spawn of Satan." The girls laughed, even Becca.

I was pissed and threw them my middle finger. "Ha ha. Very funny."

Becca leaned forward and kissed her camera. "This one's for Willow only. I'm sorry, friend."

"Seriously. I told you guys that I don't like him and I haven't even seen him anywhere in school since he wrote me that note over a week ago."

"Maybe he dropped out..." Gabby had trailed off as she picked remnants of bright pink polish off her fingernails.

"Or maybe he's in the witness protection program or working as a spy for some secret agency," Sarah had suggested.

"Give me a break!" I had snapped. "You guys should talk. None of you have boyfriends, unless you consider making out with Pete and getting groped every Saturday night in your basement a relationship, Sarah."

This time Sarah was not amused. "Pete and I are strictly friends with benefits and neither of us is interested in taking our relationship any further," she huffed.

I heard my mother's footsteps coming. I should have been studying.

"Here comes my mom. Gotta go!" I had said before slamming my laptop closed.

As my body swayed with the waves that rocked and rolled the ferry, I reflected on the conversation with my friends. They were either being rude or jealous. I wasn't sure which. After I had signed off with my friends that night and had finished studying, I checked out Michael's pics on MyWeb.

He didn't look like Satan. Granted he only wore black clothes, from his hoodie to his sneakers and his thick, long hair reminded me of black licorice, but his dark eyes, which were piercing at times, also came across as soft and thoughtful.

He had thick, manly eyebrows and looked far older than fifteen. There was a subtle hint of mischief in every one of his smiles, whether he was performing a jump on his BMX bike or cuddling with the family dog.

Michael was tall and skinny, at least six feet, and did have somewhat of a Gothic appearance, as his skin was very pale. But he also had perfectly straight white teeth, full lips and a nice nose; not too big, not too small and a cute little cleft right in the middle of his chin.

When I really thought about it, I realized that Michael Cooper was kinda cute, but his weird note that morning just pushed me over the edge. It didn't matter anyway. He still hadn't come back to school and it had been almost a month.

I breathed the warm air from inside my jacket and glanced around the boat. To the left of me I recognized a classmate from school named Shawna. She was in my homeroom and seemed nice and kind of nerdy. I thought she might know something.

I sat up straight and cleared my throat. "Excuse me," I said as I turned toward her.

Shawna looked at me and pointed to herself. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. Do you by any chance happen to know what happened to that boy who was in our homeroom in the beginning of the year?"

As soon as I finished asking her, I regretted it.

"Which boy?"

"Michael. Michael Cooper."

Shawna nodded, leaned toward me and whispered. "I heard that Michael Cooper was very sick and almost died."

I was shocked and my face must have showed it. I was speechless.

Shawna pushed her glasses further up her pointy nose and continued. "Guess he ended up in the hospital and had to stay in there for a long time."

She sat back and shrugged. "That's all I know. Haven't heard much about him since. To tell you the truth, I don't even know if he's alive."

Shawna looked out the window as if she had just given me a brief weather report, while I sat there stunned, my jaw practically hitting the icy ferryboat floor, and not understanding why when I didn't know enough about Michael Cooper to even care.

• • •

As soon as I got home from school, I rushed to my room and signed on to my computer to look up Michael on MyWeb. Maybe there was an update about his whereabouts or an explanation of why he wasn't in school. I couldn't believe what Shawna told me or, more importantly, how she told me. She seemed so nonchalant about his well-being, didn't even know whether or not he was alive. So much for nice and nerdy.

I typed in his name, but because I wasn't friends with him, the information I got was very limited. It only listed his hometown, school, age and other irrelevant facts. It also showed a quote under his picture, which indicated it was written by M.E.C. I assumed it was by him. The quote puzzled me. It read: "Live for today, for tomorrow may never come."

Despite the fact that I had deleted Michael's request to be friends with me a month earlier, I decided to request him as a friend this time. I steadied my cursor over the friend button, but hesitated. Do it, I thought to myself. Why not? He already tried to friend me first and I had absolutely nothing to lose. I pinched my eyes shut and quickly clicked on the button.

I did it, but figured, what was the point now? The kid could be holed up in some hospital bed for all I knew and not have access to a computer. Or, better yet, what if he were too sick to even use a computer? What was I thinking trying to friend a guy who, up until Shawna told me he might be dead, I didn't even give a damn about?

I closed the top of my computer and climbed off my bed. I stood in front of my floor length mirror and looked at myself. What did Michael see in me? Why did he send me that note? Did he do it to all the girls and what did his poem even mean? It had said something about me facing my fears.

I studied my reflection and wasn't too disappointed. I inherited my mom's turned up, lightly freckled Irish nose as well as her olive complexion. My dad always said I had his mother's big, expressive eyes, colored dark blue like his. I already had dark, thick eyelashes and only put on eyeliner and mascara for special occasions.

My naturally highlighted, chestnut hair had a subtle wave to it if I let it air dry, but I preferred it to be straight and would use my flat iron whenever possible. If I were running late, I'd keep my curls and just throw my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun.

I was only 5'4" and had to be careful of what I ate. I had a pretty fast metabolism, but was afraid it would slow down at any minute and I'd become overweight. I don't know why I believed this since no one in my family had a weight problem. I think I saw it once on some talk show or infomercial and didn't want to take the chance. Either way I thought it best to eat healthy, yet not deny myself junk food once in a while. I was a teenager, after all.

I wasn't stick thin like some of the girls in my grade or perfectly curvy in all the right places like Tessa Anderson. I had average-sized breasts, a smaller waist, regular hips and an ample behind. I turned to review my rear. I was definitely built like a young woman and relatively attractive compared to a lot of other girls in my school. Wholesome. That's what my grandmother always said about me. I looked wholesome. It didn't sound cool to be considered wholesome. It sounded more like a curse.

Just then my computer dinged, alerting me that I had a new e-mail message. I hopped on my bed, twirled my laptop around and searched. I had over twenty unread e-mail messages from before and figured that I must have gotten a new one. From what I could tell, all of them were spam. I was ready to delete all the junk mail when one at the very bottom caught my eye. The subject line read: "Thought you'd never ask," and was attached to a friendship acceptance from one Michael E. Cooper.

##   CHAPTER  
FIVE

The autumn colors that became the landscape of the island were warm and soothing, but the loneliness I sometimes felt from living there still resided deep within me. Golden yellows, burnt reds and bright oranges were just a few of the hues that adorned the giant oaks and maples. As I walked back home from the dock, the towering trees bent with the chilly November winds as their colorful leaves fell effortlessly to the ground and danced all around me.

Most days I had to walk the half a mile home after the ferryboat dropped me and the other kids off at the pier. Some days, though, when my mom didn't have to work at my brother's school, she'd wait in her car and give me a ride home.

It seemed as though my family was getting into a routine and settling into our new home, into our new lives. My brother James said he was happy at his new school and quickly made a handful of energetic buddies just like him. Luckily, most of these boys lived in nearby neighborhoods, so he could ring their doorbells after school, run outside and play until dusk.

My mother seemed more content with her new job and once in a while, I'd catch glimpses of my old mom, the one I missed, the one I remembered from before my father's death. Her only wish was that she could start working full-time so she'd be able to save some money for the three of us.

It seemed as if all I did was go to school, come home, study, eat dinner, study some more, go to bed and repeat the same routine the next day. As settled as I may have begun to feel, it wasn't turning out to be a whole lot of fun.

Whenever I had free time I would try to reconnect with Becca, Sarah and Gabby via the Internet or chat on the phone with one or, if possible, all of them. Lately, though, I felt as if my best friends were distancing themselves from me. They all promised they would come for a visit and stay with me over a long weekend, but it had been almost two months and not one of them had made any attempt. The "Fab Four" seemed to be fizzling fast.

I wasn't sure if it was purposeful or simply because they were continuing with their lives and other friendships so many miles away. I, too, really had no choice but to carry on with mine, even if I had to do it alone in the middle of the Atlantic.

A few times, during school, I hung out with two girls who were in both my study hall and my lunch wave. Erica and Taylor were best friends and had grown up together on Pike's Island. Erica was Italian and had a head full of tight, black curls and a pretty, dark complexion. Taylor had shocking red hair and white, almost translucent skin. Erica was short, while Taylor was tall. Even though they looked like complete opposites, Erica and Taylor were as close as two friends could be.

Every now and then, the two of them would fill me in on little tidbits of gossip that occurred in school or back home on the island. I tried to act like I wasn't interested, but my ears perked up whenever I found myself around the two of them.

"Did you hear about Tessa Anderson and Connor Finch?" Erica asked one day in the cafeteria, as she slid her lunch tray toward Taylor and me.

Taylor looked around nervously. "Shhh," she said. "You're so loud."

Erica plopped down across from us, leaned forward and whispered. "Sorry."

Dying from curiosity, Taylor flung her upper body on top of the lunch table. "So... what happened?"

Erica spoke so softly that I had no choice but to lean in, too. "I guess they got caught having sexual relations in the back of Connor's car during lunch yesterday."

I slowly nodded. "Really?"

Taylor added, "Very interesting."

Erica sat back and smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Guess he didn't like the food choices in the cafeteria and wanted to eat his own special version of take-out instead."

A visual of Connor and Tessa in the back seat of his Beemer popped into my head and I cringed. "Ewwww."

"I second that," Taylor said as she took a big bite of her pizza. "Although, he really is hot."

Erica scanned the room. "I guess Michael Cooper is back to school again, for how long? Who knows?"

I shot up. "He is? Where?"

Erica looked at me suspiciously. "Why do you care?"

"Just wondered," I said, trying to sound casual as I sipped my iced tea.

"You got the hots for him or something, Willow?" Taylor teased.

"Not at all," I lied.

I suddenly felt nervous and could tell my face was turning red. Abruptly, I stood and grabbed my empty lunch tray. "Gotta go! Gonna head to the library and finish up my history paper."

Without any further explanation, I quickly turned and fled and could distinctly feel both of them staring after me as I did.

• • •

I walked through the halls toward the library in a state of confusion. Why did Erica say Michael was back in school? I knew for certain that he wasn't in homeroom this morning and why wouldn't he have told me on MyWeb that he was coming back?

Once he graciously accepted me as his friend back in October, we communicated regularly a couple of times a week. He told me he was too sick to come to school, but wouldn't say why. I tried not to make a big deal about it since he didn't.

His MyWeb page gave no hint as to his type of illness. I was tempted many times to ask either Taylor or Erica, but I didn't want to bring up his name out of the blue. And now, when I had just had the perfect opportunity to ask, after Erica's comment about his being back in school, I acted all giddy, got embarrassed and basically ran away.

Through our correspondence, I quickly realized that Michael had a passion for writing. He'd send me his newest poems while I kept him updated on anything that was newsworthy in school, which, most times, wasn't much at all. He never asked me for my phone number and I didn't dare ask him for his. It seemed as though we were strictly pen pals, which in today's age of technology, seemed archaic.

Back in Mass, I had always hung out with a lot of boys as friends, but never had a boyfriend. I had plenty of crushes on guys, it seemed like a new one every week. But for the most part I kept my crushes to myself. I didn't want my girlfriends teasing me about it or letting the guy know. I'd be way too embarrassed. And if I did find out that a boy liked me, I would do everything in my power to avoid him at all costs, even if I had to go out of my way and take a longer route to class so I wouldn't have to bump into him in the hallways. I guess deep down I wasn't ready for a relationship.

Why was I even thinking about Michael Cooper and having a boyfriend in the same thought process? What was wrong with me? I didn't even really know him. And why did I think that he would tell me, of all people, when he was coming back to school? I'm sure Erica was mistaken, but she said it with such conviction.

As I walked down the hallway toward the library, I caught myself looking for Michael, peeking around corners and searching darkened doorways as though he'd be hiding in them.

I had to get a grip. I opened the library door and vowed not think about anything else but finishing my paper and handing it in on time, which happened to be during the very next period.

• • •

I had just finished typing up my bibliography when the bell rang signaling the end of the period. I started to freak out because the printer jammed as soon as I began printing my paper.

My history teacher, Mr. Winkler, was such a stickler for getting assignments in by their due date. That should be his name. Mr. Stickler. He would automatically deduct ten points for every day it was late and I was not about to let that happen. I prided myself on being a straight-A student.

I finally fixed the jam, printed the paper and ran for my locker so I could grab my history book. Another five points off a future quiz grade if you didn't bring your book to class everyday. He was so demanding.

I tried to get down the hallways as quickly as I could. There was too much congestion as students made their way to their next class. The library was on one end of the school, while my locker and history class where completely on the other.

I finally rounded the corner to the hallway where my locker was located. I pushed and shoved through the crowd as I made my way toward the end of the long corridor.

Too late. The bell rang.

Kids dispersed and the hall completely emptied in a matter of seconds. There was no time left. I sprinted toward my locker and worked my combination as fast as I could. It was stuck! These lockers were the worst and I thought for a split second that maybe Tessa Anderson wasn't lying all those months ago.

"Damn it!" I took a deep breath and tried again.

All of a sudden an arm grazed the side of my head as a hand came to rest on my metal locker above me.

"Where's the fire?" the unfamiliar voice asked.

Unsure, I turned around and looked up. I recognized that smile immediately. Erica was right. Michael was back.

##   CHAPTER  
SIX

Michael Cooper stood to the side so I could work my combination. I was so nervous; I could barely turn the dial. I couldn't bring myself to look at him and could feel myself getting flush. I realized that I had only really looked at Michael face to face one other time in homeroom when he sent me the little note with wings.

It also hit me at that moment that I had never really heard his voice until now, except for when he would announce his presence during Mr. Singer's roll call with a raised hand and a "Here". In a way, I felt like I knew him well, but as I stood there next to him, it seemed not at all.

"Where you headed?" he asked as I finally opened my locker and found my book.

"History." I slowly rose and finally looked him in the eyes. My heart started beating faster and louder than ever before. I was sure Michael could hear it. He smiled. I did, too. He looked thinner and paler than I had remembered, but his eyes seemed less brooding and genuinely happy to see me.

"I'll walk you," he offered.

"I'm already late for class. Aren't you gonna be, too?"

"I'm at the nurse," he winked as he slipped a hall pass out of his coat pocket and showed me. We started down the hallway.

"Then why are you down here?" I asked as I met his gaze.

His eyes penetrated me. "To see your baby blues."

Embarrassed, I looked away. I could tell he was staring at me. What was I doing? I was already at least five minutes late for class, yet was strolling down the corridor as if I didn't have a care in the world.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back today?" I asked, hoping to end the awkwardness.

"I wanted to surprise you." He smiled.

We finally reached the corner where my class was located.

"I really gotta go. I'm so late and might even get a detention," I frowned.

"See ya' later?" he wanted to know, his face full of hope. "Maybe?"

"Maybe." I waved as I turned, hurried off and ran toward my history class and Mr. Stickler's room of doom.

• • •

Because I was so late to class, Mr. Winkler punished me by deducting five points from my essay grade plus gracing me with an after school detention. Mr. Winkler was more than a stickler; I swear he was a sadist.

Even though the detention was only for a half an hour, I missed the ferryboat back to the island, which meant that I had to sit around and wait another hour for the next one.

I never did see Michael in school the rest of the day. I thought maybe I'd run into him during gym or even as I walked around the hallways after my sentence was served, but I didn't. Instead, I ended up at my locker and decided to clean it out while I waited for the ferry. I sat on the newly polished tile floor and sorted through my folders so I could throw away old worksheets and quizzes. I hurried when I realized I had only ten minutes until the late bus would be leaving to deliver me and the other misfits back to the Portland pier.

I crawled around on my hands and knees gathering discarded papers off of the floor. As I went to pick up a pile of old math sheets, a flashy, fuchsia cowboy boot pounced on the top and stopped me.

I looked up and saw Tessa Anderson staring down at me.

"Excuse me. Can I please have my trash back?" I asked both baffled and annoyed. She was so rude.

Slowly she removed her foot. "Sure."

I continued to gather my garbage and held onto it for dear life. Why the hell was Tessa Anderson bothering me anyway?

"Why were you in detention?" she wanted to know.

"'Cause I was late to a class," I answered as I stood up. "What's it to you?"

"Just wondered what someone like you could have done in order to get a detention."

"Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked indignantly.

Tessa flipped her hair and shrugged. "I don't know. You don't strike me as the type of person who'd get into trouble."

"Well, I don't think I should have gotten a detention for being a few minutes late to history, but Mr. Stickler... I mean Mr. Winkler is an idiot."

"Mr. Stickler, huh?" Tessa teased. "I'm telling him."

"Go right ahead!" I said as I slammed my locker shut.

Tessa smirked. "I just might."

I rolled my eyes and walked away. "I'll deny it," I yelled over my shoulder as I quickly made my way toward the closest steel door exit and entry back to freedom.

• • •

After I finished my homework, I, once again, signed onto my MyWeb account hoping to get a message from Michael. Nothing. I clicked on his page and didn't notice anything new right away. When I looked under his profile picture, I realized that he had updated his quote. It read, "Stars at night, shine so brightly, but in the day, you're the beam that guides me."

I twirled the end of my hair and thought, was he writing that for me? I couldn't help but wonder.

I wished I could have called one of my girls back in Massachusetts to ask their opinion, but I hadn't talked to them in a while and the one time when I did mention Michael, all they did was criticize him and his appearance. I wasn't going to set myself up for getting mad at them all over again.

And what was up with Tessa Anderson? I thought about it all the way on the boat ride home. I knew very well why she was in detention. Everyone did. Erica had told me that she had to serve over a month's worth for getting caught in the back seat of Connor's car. Even if I hadn't known the reason, it never would have dawned on me to ask her and it surely was none of her business how I ended up in there. Anyhow, after thinking back on the whole day, I was completely baffled by everything; Michael's sudden disappearance and Tessa's unwelcome appearance.

I decided I had nothing to lose and sent Michael a message via MyWeb. I gave him my cell phone number and told him to call me "whenever."

My stomach growled loudly, so I signed off my computer, left my bedroom and headed toward the kitchen in search of something to eat. On the way, I passed by my mom's room and peered through the cracked bedroom door. It was only eight o'clock, but my mother was already in bed asleep.

I tiptoed and held onto the railing so the old stairs wouldn't creak underneath me and wake her. When I reached the bottom, I found my brother sitting in front of the television, eating a bowl of cereal and watching cartoons.

As much as I wanted to strangle him sometimes, I felt kind of sorry for him. He had to fend for himself at such a young age because my mother wasn't very attentive. He was a sweet kid most of the time. He looked cute and cuddly in his Sponge Bob pajamas.

James looked a lot like my father when he was a boy. Like my dad, James, too, had dark brown hair, but his eyes were a lighter blue. James's face was covered in freckles and he had the thickest eyelashes ever. He was scrawny and short for his age. I wondered if he would look exactly like our dad when he grew up and became a man. A part of me hoped so.

"James, do you want me to make you something else to eat?"

"No thanks."

"Okay."

I went into the kitchen and searched the cabinets for a snack. I couldn't find anything to munch on because there was hardly any storage room for anything, especially food, in the little house. Because my uncle's house was only a summer place for him, it was on the smaller side, more like a bungalow than a house.

The main floor had a tiny bathroom with just a toilet and sink, an eat-in kitchen, a small family room and a small area off the kitchen for the washer and dryer. Upstairs there were three small bedrooms and a full bathroom for all of us to share.

Even though the bathrooms and appliances were updated, the house still had a musty smell to it, which I would only notice when I was away from it for a long period of time.

The whole inside of the house was painted a boring white. My uncle wanted all his walls to be as pure as an untouched canvas. He felt it was the best way to showcase his treasured collection of photographs and paintings done by local artists.

The overall drab décor consisted of uncomfortable furniture in outdated, bold plaids, as well as Early American furnishings scattered throughout.

The house itself seemed as though it was sagging on one end and when you walked toward the left side, felt as if the whole foundation sloped downward. Some days I felt sorry for the old place. It seemed to feel as weary and defeated as I did.

As much as I hated to, I opted for some Coco Puffs like my brother. When I went to grab a cereal bowl from the shelf above me, my arm accidentally knocked over the box that had been left opened on the counter top. The little puffs of cereal quickly scattered to the floor below.

"James!" I yelled.

"What?" he innocently called from the family room.

"Never mind." What was the point in scolding him now? I bent down to clean it up. My tabby cat, Princess, ran over to smell the mess to see if it appealed to her. It wasn't Fishy Puffs, so she turned her little black nose up at it and sauntered away.

Just then my cell phone rang. I quickly stood up to grab it off the counter and smacked the back of my head into the sharp corner of the opened cabinet door.

"Damn it!" I screamed as I simultaneously hit the talk button. Reflexively, I grabbed my head.

"Hello?" I managed. I plopped down on the floor and leaned forward, feeling dizzy.

"Damn what?" the voice asked.

I winced in pain as I gently rubbed the wound. "Owww," I moaned. My head was killing me. "Who is this?"

"It's Michael. You told me to call you, so I thought now was as good a time as 'whenever'."

I couldn't believe Michael was on the other end and was suddenly overcome by a rush of adrenaline. I quickly sat up. Miraculously, the throbbing in my skull subsided.

"You all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Yeah. I'm fine," I convinced myself and proceeded to stay on that dingy linoleum floor, surrounded by a sea of smashed, chocolaty bits of cereal and had the first real conversation with a boy I barely knew.

##   CHAPTER  
SEVEN

Michael Cooper and I stayed on the phone for over three hours that first night. We laughed a lot and discovered that we had the same weird sense of humor. I managed to clean up the cereal while talking to him and completely forgot that I had ever been hungry or hurt. We finished talking right before I fell asleep, as I lay all warm and cozy in my bed.

I learned quite a lot about Michael that evening; how his family used to live full-time on the island, but for some reason had to relocate in order to be closer to Portland. They still owned their house on Pike's Island and used it mainly on the weekends during the summer.

Michael's father was some hotshot attorney in the city and his mom stayed home and took care of him and his brother.

He loved his BMX bike and skateboarding and his golden retriever, Scooby, which he named after his favorite childhood show, Scooby Doo. He admitted he'd still watch an episode from time to time if he was laid up and completely bored.

I wanted to ask him why he'd be laid up, but I couldn't bring myself. There were so many other questions I wanted answered: why did he miss so much school and why had he been in the hospital and almost died like Shawna had reported? He obviously was ill, but with what?

Instead, I told him all about myself, how my dad died when I was young and how my mom lost her job and we ended up living at my uncle's. I told him that I really missed Massachusetts and all my friends back there, but that I was slowly getting used to living on the island with my mom and brother and glad to have a roof over our heads, even if it was covered in hundred-year-old moss.

At one point I brought up the note that he flew my way that first day and asked him what it meant.

"To be honest," he chuckled, "I don't remember what it said."

I reminded him as best I could, but wasn't one hundred percent sure either since I had been so quick to throw it away.

"I'll have to think about it and get back to you." I could tell he was smiling on the other end.

"So, are you gonna be there tomorrow?"

"Be where?"

"In school." I couldn't help but ask.

"For sure," he said and proceeded to have a coughing fit.

I was concerned. "Are you all right?"

He caught his breath. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Michael continued to cough, but in between managed a, "See ya' tomorrow."

"Kay," I said and we hung up.

I felt so badly for him. I wondered if his coughing attack had something to do with his illness or if he just had a cold. It seemed like everybody was walking around sneezing and coughing. I guessed it was that time of year. Either way, I was content and easily fell asleep knowing that I would definitely be seeing Michael the very next day.

• • •

When the clock ticked and the minute hand landed on the fifty-nine, it sounded, to me, as if someone beat loudly on a steel drum. One more move and homeroom would be over. And still no sign of Michael Cooper.

Maybe he'd be coming in late, I thought. I felt so stupid because I had gotten up extra early that morning to accessorize a cute, new outfit I had bought at the outlets on the mainland earlier in the month; a pair of skinny jeans and a girly, floral top. I also straightened my hair and even put on blue eyeliner and mascara. I looked pretty, but was beginning to think that I had gone to all that trouble for no reason.

The minute hand moved and the bell rang more deafening than ever before. Homeroom was over. I grabbed my books and headed out the door. Just as I entered the hallway, Tessa Anderson sidled up beside me.

"What's the special occasion?"

I turned toward her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why are you all dolled up?"

"'Cause I want to be," I answered meanly.

"Well, you look nice," she answered and scooted away.

I stopped in the middle of the hall and shrugged. "Thanks," I said out loud, to no one in particular, while the others ambled all around me.

• • •

The rest of the day dragged on and I didn't pay attention during one single class. Instead, I stared out the little glass windows that were built into the middle of all the classroom doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of Michael walking by. But I never did. If he wasn't going to be in school, why didn't he call or text me? And why did he even say he was coming in at all?

Lunch wasn't much better either. Almost immediately Erica and Taylor could tell that I was preoccupied. Erica got right to the point.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?"

I was so deep in thought, I didn't even hear her question. She waved her hand in front of my face.

"Hello? Earth to Willow."

I snapped out of it. "What?" I felt like I was in a daze.

"What's up with you? You're acting so bizarre today."

"I don't know. I'm just not feeling well," I lied. I didn't have to consider it really lying, I reasoned, if my heart was aching.

Erica and Taylor ignored me, ate their lunch and gossiped as usual. My ears didn't perk up like they normally would have. As I sat there and picked at my salad, I wondered if Michael was okay and angry with myself for even caring.

##   CHAPTER  
EIGHT

Thanksgiving, and all the holiday craziness that followed it, were upon us. Originally we were supposed to drive to my grandparents' condo in Massachusetts, but my mother insisted on hosting it, calling it the first holiday in her new home.

My Uncle Ron came, too, driving all the way up from New York City the night before and picking up my grandparents on the way. My uncle stayed overnight in James's room and James slept on the floor in my bedroom. My grandparents took over my mom's room and my mother slept in the family room on a pullout couch. I offered to sleep on it, but she insisted she wanted to. She was going to get up early anyway to stick the turkey in the oven and didn't want to wake any of us.

Even though we were all cramped, the meal was delicious as we gathered around the small kitchen table. My mother laid out a festive gold and green tablecloth and decorated the top with honey-colored gourds and a miniature bouquet of burgundy mums.

Beyond the kitchen doorway, a fire blazed in the family room. Between that and the heat from the stove, we were all toasty and warm on the cold and snowy day.

"Glad to see you using the fireplace," my uncle said. "Make sure you hire someone to clean out the chimney and flue at the end of each year."

"I will, Ron," my mother promised as she stood and carved some more of the turkey.

"I just installed an expensive, gas-burning fireplace in my penthouse. It looks so amazing. I even placed fake logs to the side to give it more of an authentic feel."

My uncle was a wealthy restaurateur and made his money as the owner of some of New York's finest and trendiest restaurants. He had even offered to bring the Thanksgiving dinner along with him.

"I could have had my sous-chef, Luis, make the turkey and all the sides, Laura," he said as he sliced into a juicy brown turkey leg. "His homemade cranberry sauce is to die for and you wouldn't have had to go to all this trouble."

My mother smiled, proud as a peacock, as she spooned steaming peas and carrots onto James's plate. James plugged his nose and looked at me. I giggled. My mom noticed.

"James! Stop it! And you, too, Willow."

She turned her smile back to my uncle.

"It's no trouble at all, Ron. I've always enjoyed cooking a turkey and love how it makes the whole house smell."

My mother gave me veggies, too.

"Plus, I could never repay you for letting us move in and live here rent free."

My mother put her hand to her chest and got choked up. "I really don't know what I would have done without you, brother."

My uncle patted the top of her hand. "Don't worry, Laura. I did it because I can."

Uncle Ron got all excited and animated. "Plus, for some time now, I've had my eye on a bigger house here on the island, over on Peck Road. I always wanted an excuse to buy it, and now I have one!"

My mom smiled lovingly at her only sibling.

Uncle Ron spoke softly. "Consider this place all yours, sis."

My mother was so moved by his gesture. She tried to hold back her tears, but could not.

My grandfather, who seemed to be getting more and more senile lately, yelled, "What's all the blubbering about, Laura? Is it because the food tastes so horrible?"

My grandmother rolled her eyes and gently elbowed him in the side. "Quiet, Shamus! The food is delightful."

My mother looked at each one of us as we feasted on her hard work. She frowned. "Is it that bad?"

"Not at all," James answered as he plopped another heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"It's delicious, Mom," I swore and even took another bite of my stuffing.

"I've got some bad news for you, sister," my Uncle Ron said in his most serious tone. "If you cook like this all the time, I'm gonna have to steal you from Willow and James so you can run one of my kitchens in New York."

As my mom smiled with appreciation and dried her eyes, the doorbell rang. We all turned toward the family room. My mother, who was already standing, put down the carving knife and fork. "I'll get it," she said and left the room.

My grandfather continued ranting about how salty the food was and my grandmother kept trying to quiet him, while James, my uncle and I ate as though it was our last meal.

My mother came back into the kitchen and cleared her throat. We all looked at her. She addressed me.

"Willow, you have a visitor."

"I do?"

She nodded.

"Who is it?"

She gestured toward the family room. "Go and see."

The others stared at me. I shrugged, got up from the table and threw my napkin onto my chair. "Be right back."

Who the heck would stop by and visit today, of all days, I wondered as I stepped into the family room? I stood and looked around. No one was in there. I saw a blurred movement coming from beyond the icy, frosted panes of the front door. Cautiously, I walked toward it.

Slowly I turned the cold, metal doorknob, faced the unexpected visitor and gasped.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Michael beamed.

• • •

Never in my life had I seen anyone shiver as much as Michael. I pulled him into the family room and led him toward the hot, crackling fire. I was filled with questions, but wanted him to defrost first.

Michael looked terrible. He was paler than ever and his lips were a light shade of blue. His eyes were red as if he'd been crying.

"What are you doing here and how did you find my house?" I whispered, thankful that none of my family members came to investigate, especially my nosy brother.

Michael rubbed his hands together and blew on them. "I grew up on the island. I knew exactly where this place was when we first talked."

"But why did you come... and on Thanksgiving?"

Michael looked down as he answered. "I just needed to get away from home for a while."

He looked at me and forced a grin. "You know how annoying families can get, especially around the holidays."

I was flabbergasted. "But it's snowing and freezing out there," I said as I pointed toward the front window. "How did you even get here?"

"I took a cab from my house to the Portland pier and walked to your house when I got to the island."

"Do your parents know where you are?"

Again he looked down. "No. And I really don't care."

I grabbed his frozen hand and spoke sternly. "Michael, you need to call them."

"No. I don't." He yanked his hand away and glared at me. "I knew coming here was a mistake."

I was speechless, at first, and then became angry. "A mistake? What am I supposed to think? You show up unexpectedly on my doorstep during a storm, frozen to the bone in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner?"

Michael turned away from me, toward the fire, but I wasn't done.

"And you promised you'd be in school last week and, not only did you not show up, you didn't even have the courtesy to tell me."

Michael still wouldn't look at me. I continued anyway and tried to keep my voice down.

"What is going on with you? Sometimes you're around; sometimes you're not. I think you're really sick with something, but you won't talk about it."

Exasperated, I threw my hands up. "What do you want from me, Michael?"

Michael glowered at me and pierced me with his dark, brooding eyes. He spoke through clenched teeth and his voice was deeper than ever. "Absolutely nothing."

Without another word, he turned and marched toward the front door.

"Michael!" I called after him. "Wait! Come back!"

Michael stormed out and slammed the door shut, but somehow, it blew back open, as a gust of frigid wind entered the room, found me, clung to me and wouldn't let me go.

##   CHAPTER  
NINE

Just when I thought it was not possible that the temperature in Maine could get any colder, I'd find myself shivering uncontrollably and my teeth actually chattering whenever I was outside for more than a minute. I experienced my fair share of harsh winters growing up in Massachusetts, but so far, nothing compared to my new habitat, the exposed and vulnerable Pike's Island.

Regardless, I tried to keep myself as warm as possible as I kept up with my grueling workload and my grades, even studying or doing my homework on the chilly ferryboat back and forth to the island.

While on my way back to the island one below-zero-wind-chilled-afternoon, I readjusted my scarf and wrapped it tightly around my neck. I sat there and tried to memorize present tense conjugations for my Spanish quiz the next day, but couldn't. I found myself thinking about Michael and about the last time I saw him.

After Michael had stormed off on Thanksgiving, I quietly closed the front door and locked it securely behind me. I didn't know what else to do. For a brief moment I contemplated running after him, but I had no idea where he went. He knew the island better than I did and when I tried to call him on his cell phone, it went straight to voice mail.

Michael never did show up to school the week after that and wouldn't return any of my calls, texts or e-mails. I thought about trying to catch a ride over to his house one day after school, but I didn't have his address in Portland and didn't want to ask any of the other students if they knew where he lived.

Michael's MyWeb account had no recent posts except for an updated quote underneath his profile picture. It read: "Be not fearful of death, for death is not fearful of you."

His new quote was rather ominous and concerned me. Why was he talking about death? Was he really that ill? I wouldn't doubt he became sick with something, especially after walking through a snowstorm to get to my house on Thanksgiving. I didn't want him to leave that night, but I also didn't think it was okay for him to let his parents worry about him. All he had to do was call them and tell them that he was safe.

From our past phone conversations, he had told me that he and his dad really didn't get along, but that he adored his mother. I figured he must have had an argument with his dad that day, which probably prompted him to come and see me. But he wouldn't tell me what happened that night or ever for that matter. That was the problem; Michael was way too secretive.

Sometimes he was forthcoming about things in his life like his interpretation of the lyrics to his favorite song or his passion for poetry and writing, but would never talk about why he missed so much school or what made him so ill.

Either way, he still wasn't back in school and we had only one week left until Winter Vacation. I closed my spiral notebook, put on my hood and rested my head back on the windowsill. The soft swaying of the ferry lulled me and let my mind wander. I always seemed to be tired lately. I figured the constantly cold temperature and lack of sun gave me less energy during the winter months. Maybe that's the reason polar bears hibernated. It made perfect sense. Humans should, too. I knew I wanted to anyway.

I dozed off and started dreaming about a warm and cozy snow cave where a fluffy, down sleeping bag and roaring fire awaited me when, suddenly, I was nudged awake.

I quickly sat up and searched for the source of my interruption. Tessa Anderson sat beside me, with a grin from ear to ear.

"What's up, loser?" she asked.

I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. I was annoyed. "I was trying to sleep."

She nudged me again. "Well, wake up, Willow! We're home."

• • •

Up until that day, I didn't even realize that Tessa Anderson lived on the island. Never once had I seen her on the ferry to or from Portland since we had started school back in September.

Normally I would hang out with Erica and Taylor on the morning ride in, but rarely caught up with either of them after school because one or all of us stayed after for different reasons whether it was for sports, clubs or even extra help.

After the boat docked, I walked off slowly, barely awake. My mom was working at my brother's school, so I braced myself for a frosty, torturous walk home. I zipped up my North Face as high as it would go and trudged through the semi-plowed streets. I was halfway home when a shiny, blue Ford pickup truck pulled up next to me.

A man rolled down his window and motioned for me to walk toward him. "Hey, come here."

I looked around. No one else was in sight. I was scared and picked up my pace.

He sped up and called to me. "Wanna ride, Willow?"

I ignored him and walked even faster, completely freaked out that he knew my name. I was just about to start running when I heard a high-pitched laughing coming from inside the cab.

I looked over and saw Tessa pop up from underneath the dashboard. She was hysterical.

"Willow, calm down! It's just me and my brother, Jaques."

I thought I was going to have a heart attack or get abducted at the very least, while Tessa and her brother cackled at my expense.

I was pissed. "Very funny, guys," I said sarcastically.

Tessa tried to stifle her laughter and yelled through the window. "Sorry."

The truck screeched to a halt and Tessa flung her door open. "Hop in."

##   CHAPTER  
TEN

Most of the businesses on Pike's were situated on the western and southernmost side of the island so boats from the mainland could easily travel in and out of the harbor. It was also where the Casco Bay ferryboats docked and the part of the island where most year-round residents lived.

Our house was less than a quarter mile inland from the western shore. After I hopped into Jaques's truck, I realized rather quickly that they didn't live anywhere near me. We headed east and ended up on Shoreline Drive, the one road that brought travelers around the whole perimeter of the island. My house, and the other small houses like it, occupied one side of the island while Tessa's was on the less populated, wealthier side, which allowed realtors to boast them as "beachfront properties."

"Are you sure it's okay with your parents if I come over?"

Tessa and Jaques exchanged glances and grins. Tessa turned to me. "Trust me. They don't care. They're never home anyway."

I stared out the window and watched the waves crash upon the shore. Some of the magnificent houses sat across the street from the beach, separated by Shoreline Drive, while others were directly on the waterfront, perched atop huge parcels of land right before their yards became rocky and jagged, dropping off toward the ocean below. I had never been this far out on the island and had planned on doing more investigating once it got warmer and I got my driver's permit.

"So what grade are you in? Willow, right?" Jaques leaned forward and asked.

"Yeah, that's my name. I know it's kinda weird. I'm a sophomore like Tessa."

"It's not weird at all. It's different. In a good way," Jaques smiled at me. I smiled back.

"Talk about weird." Jaques said. "How about my name? It's pronounced Jakes, but it's spelled j, a, q, u, e, s."

Tessa rolled her eyes and turned to me. "That's because Jaques is our mom's maiden name and that's what her blue-blooded side of the family does. The first-born son, the golden child, is always honored with getting some crappy last name as his first."

Tessa playfully elbowed her brother. "Isn't that right, Jaques?

"Very funny, Tess. You're just jealous," he said and gave his sister a wink. They both laughed.

Tessa's brother seemed nice. He seemed older than her; maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, I'd guess. I studied his profile. He and Tessa looked a lot alike; blonde hair, blue eyes and had very defined facial features like high cheekbones and square jaw lines. But Tessa had a softness about her that made her look totally feminine, while Jaques was definitely all man.

As we drove northeast, I couldn't help but wonder how in the world I ended up in a pickup truck with Tessa Anderson and her brother heading toward their family home. The only reason I accepted her invitation was because I was totally freezing and figured it couldn't hurt to go for a little while. I'd be home alone anyway until my mom and brother got back from school.

Plus, more importantly, Tessa and I weren't friends or even remotely close. Even though we exchanged a few words in the past, I thought she was stuck up and way too cool for me. When I really thought about it, though, I couldn't think of any girls in school whom she was friendly with. She always seemed to be hanging out with the guys. Still, I wanted to know why she invited me over.

"What are we gonna do at your house?"

"Hang."

Hang? I wished I could have texted Erica or Taylor right then to give them the low down or at least to ask them their interpretation of the word "hang." They'd never believe I was with Tessa. Ever! All they did was talk about her during lunch and study hall and say how slutty she was and preached that "you should never have sex with a guy just to keep him as a boyfriend, even if it was with Connor Finch" and blah, blah, blah. They'd just go on and on about her.

"So, where're you from?" Tessa wanted to know.

I turned toward her. "Massachusetts."

"How'd you end up in this shitty place?"

Tessa had a real way with words. I stared out the window again. "My dad died when I was young and when my mom lost her job, we couldn't afford to stay in our home anymore. So my mom, brother and I moved into my uncle's house over on Juniper Drive."

"That sucks."

That was rude, I thought, and a typical Tessa response. I just shook my head. She must have realized how she sounded and tried to backpedal.

"I don't mean it sucks that you live at your uncle's. I mean it sucks that your father died."

I was thoughtful for a moment, looked Tessa in her steel blue eyes and nodded softly. "Yes. It does."

• • •

Jaques's truck pulled up a long, winding driveway, lined with ancient oaks and soaring blue spruces. The drive led to an enormous house that wasn't visible from the road. I couldn't imagine how it remained so private considering its massive size. The three-story house was covered in dark gray cedar shakes with shiny black trim. The detached, four-car garage had thick, ivy vines crawling up its stone side and seemed as though they had been trained to grow perfectly around its Gothic-shaped windows. The place reminded me of a grand Georgian estate that could be found nestled somewhere in the lush, English countryside.

Tessa's house had to be at least fifty times the size of my uncle's. I couldn't believe that such extreme types of dwellings existed on Pike's Island and felt as though I was completely in another world.

Jaques stopped the truck in front of the arched, front entrance, which was mortared with stones similar to those that adorned the outside of the garage. The heavy, double wooden front doors were stained a deep, red mahogany and looked as if it would take an army of people just to hold them open.

I climbed out of the truck and Tessa hopped out after me. The three of us walked toward the front doors where Jaques, like a true gentleman, held them open for us.

The foyer was beautiful with twenty-foot ceilings and gray and white marble floors. A spiral staircase, with a black, wrought iron banister stood to the right of us. I glanced up and saw a huge, ornate crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the entrance, which, otherwise, was completely empty. A chilly breeze passed through me as we stood inside the big foyer. I shivered and crossed my arms in front of myself to keep warm.

Jaques and Tessa walked toward the back of the house and I followed. We walked through a long hallway and ended up in a family room and kitchen area. Like the rest of the house, the two rooms were huge. Tall windows, which stretched from the floor to the ceiling, covered the entire back wall and made the whole space feel fully exposed to the elements.

Tessa walked left into the kitchen and opened the stainless steel refrigerator.

"Wanna drink or something?"

"No thanks. I'm good," I said as I walked over to the windows and stared outside in awe.

The backyard, which wasn't very big, had what appeared to be an infinity pool and then beyond that a subtle drop with the sandy beach and white-capped waves below. The view was absolutely breathtaking, even in the middle of winter.

Tessa appeared next to me and offered me a glass of iced tea.

"Nice, huh?"

I nodded and took the glass. "It's beautiful. I'd never get sick of it."

"You would. Believe me," Tessa said as she turned, swung her hair and headed toward the family room. I followed her and plopped down across from her on a comfy, sectional leather sofa. Tessa switched on the big, flat screen TV.

I felt awkward. Jaques was nowhere in sight and I didn't know what to talk about. I didn't want to just sit there in silence and watch television.

I sipped my tea. "Where are your parents?"

Tessa continued to watch television, but answered. "In Portland. My father's working over at the hospital and my mother is busy running one of the dozens of charities that she inherited from her parents, along with all their money."

She shrugged and took a drink of her tea. "Who knows? My dad will probably end up spending the night at our other house in the city. My mom's supposed to catch the last ferry back here. She has some stupid charity breakfast in town early tomorrow morning."

"Do you stay in Portland a lot, too?"

"Yeah. My parents make me. They won't let me stay overnight if only Jaques is here. I don't really mind 'cause I hate taking that freakin' ferry back and forth to school anyway."

Tessa turned away from the TV and stared out the window.

"My parents don't know it yet, but I'm planning on spending every night here in the summer with or without them."

I nodded. No wonder I had never seen Tessa on the ferry before, but I guess having all this wealth and privilege didn't mean much if no one was around to share it with you. I was usually home by myself anyway, I figured, and would have loved the chance to live among this kind of luxury, if even it was for one day. Just sitting there, I was able to think of plenty of things I could buy in order to make myself happy.

As I looked around and imagined my life surrounded with such opulence, Tessa caught me.

"It gets old. Fast. Trust me," she said.

From somewhere, deep within the house, a grandfather clock chimed. I took my cell phone out of my coat pocket, checked the time and panicked. I hadn't realized how late it was. I sprang up, accidentally spilling some of my tea on the Oriental rug.

"I'm so sorry. Do you have towels I could use to wipe it up?"

Tessa sat, unmoved. "Leave it. Katia, the maid, will clean it up."

"Are you sure?"

Tessa didn't answer.

"I'm sorry to ask, but is there anyway for me to catch a ride back to my house? It's getting late and I should be getting home."

Tessa clicked off the television and walked over to the granite-covered island. She put down her glass of iced tea and grabbed a set of keys.

"Let's go."

"What about Jaques? Isn't he gonna drive me?"

"No. I will. I know how to drive. I've been doing it for years," she answered casually.

My eyes widened with fear and I remained, frozen in place, on top of the iced-tea-covered rug.

I panicked. "Why not your brother?"

"Believe me. After what he's been smoking, you'd rather have a dog drive you than him."

I walked toward the kitchen, figuring I had no choice and put my empty glass on the counter next to Tessa's.

"That's one of the perks of not having your parents around," Tessa said as she turned, flung her hair and walked away toward the foyer. "Nobody gives a shit what you do."

##   CHAPTER  
ELEVEN

Winter vacation was about to begin and most of my teachers were thoughtful enough to give projects, due right after the break, as Christmas presents. I couldn't imagine why they felt the need to saddle us with assignments over the winter recess. What if someone's family planned on going somewhere warm for the holidays or on a skiing trip? As usual, I had no plans to go anywhere except to the bleak and boring house on Juniper Drive.

The last week of school was a complete waste of time, especially the last day. No one was in the mood to be there, not even the teachers.

Mr. Winkler was feeling unusually merry and gave our class an additional week to hand in our World War II history project instead of the normal deadline he'd given to all his other students.

Erica, who sat behind me in class, tapped my shoulder. I leaned back and she whispered into my ear.

"Do you think Tessa will choose 'Hitler and His Lovers' as the topic for her paper?"

I didn't respond and leaned forward in my chair. I didn't feel it necessary to pick on Tessa at every opportunity even if it was somewhat entertaining. Plus, I felt guilty gossiping about her after going to her house, especially because I still hadn't told Erica and Taylor that I even went or about how petrified I was when she drove me home.

I ignored Erica when she tapped me again. Just then I felt a pair of eyes burrowing into me. I scanned the room and looked for the source. From the opposite corner of the classroom, Tessa Anderson shot daggers at me.

Erica had such a big mouth! Even though I may have agreed with her, she didn't have to say it out loud, in class, to me, with Tessa right there. Besides, Erica's whisper was equivalent to another person's shouting. I was beginning to think she was actually deaf.

Thankfully the bell rang. As Mr. Winkler wished us a happy holiday, I ran from the room, leaving Erica and her insults in the lurch.

I stood at my locker and grabbed books for my next class. I was just about to close my locker door when someone else slammed it shut for me, almost cutting off my thumb in the process.

Angry, I spun on my heels and came face to face with an even angrier Tessa.

"What the hell did that bitch say about me?" she spat.

I needed to do damage control. "Nothing."

I walked away toward my biology class and Tessa followed.

"Don't say 'nothing.' I heard her say my name and know she was talking shit about me."

I stopped abruptly and looked at Tessa. "Does it really matter what she said or what anyone else says about you, for that matter?"

For once, Tessa was speechless.

"You can do one of two things," I told her as I held up two fingers. "Either ignore what people say and let it go or, if you do care, don't give them any ammunition to use against you."

She thought about it, huffed and walked off. "Whatever!"

I rolled my eyes and continued on my way toward my very last class of the Old Year and another assignment, which in the spirit of giving, my science teacher was about to bestow upon me.

• • •

Christmas was going to be uneventful as my mom, brother and I were stuck all alone in Maine. The weather was too unpredictable, so my uncle didn't want to risk driving north and getting stuck at our house, especially since it was crucial that he be at his New York restaurants during their busiest time of year. My grandparents wanted us to drive to Massachusetts and stay with them, but my mom was petrified of driving on the snowy roads. Regardless, my mother did her best to make sure it was special for James and me.

She made popcorn the old-fashioned way by heating vegetable oil on the stove, tossing in the kernels and quickly moving the kettle back and forth so it wouldn't burn. That's how she made popcorn when she grew up, she said, because microwaves didn't exist back then. We melted butter and set it aside, which we would later pour over the popcorn we were going to eat. The remaining plain popcorn would be strung together in long, thin rows.

My mother was in an unusually good mood and hummed along with the Christmas carols that rang out from the old-fashioned stereo. She moved in rhythm with the music while popping the mouthwatering smelling popcorn.

She wore a pretty, flouncy red dress and took the time to style her thick, auburn hair in a French twist and fastened it at the nape of her neck with a delicate rhinestone clip. She even put on makeup. I hadn't seen my mother make such an effort to get all gussied up since my father had died.

About once a month, when my dad was still alive, he and my mother would go on a date, taking turns picking their favorite restaurant and hiring a babysitter to stay at home with us kids.

I watched my mother as she bopped and sang along to the 1950's hit, "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." I thought my mom was attractive for her age. She had fine wrinkles around her pretty green eyes, wrinkles that would appear only when she smiled. That was the one thing about my mom; when she was truly happy, her eyes smiled the most. Her complexion was darker than mine, like those born in the Mediterranean because her mother, my grandmother, was Italian. She was very thin compared to most of my friend's moms and petite like me.

For some reason, my mother seemed to be radiating outwardly lately, almost glowing. I was beginning to realize that my mom's external attitude depended on how she was feeling on the inside. I just couldn't figure out why she was so darn happy on Christmas of all days.

Unlike my mom, I found myself getting the saddest around the holidays, especially when I started to think about my father and how much he enjoyed celebrating them, whether it was Christmas or even the Fourth of July.

Even when I was a baby, my dad would take off from work the day before the Fourth so he could travel all around the state in search of the newest and safest fireworks. He'd invite all the neighbors and their children to come over and set up folding chairs on our front lawn to watch his special, multi-colored light show. He called it the Flynn Family Extravaganza.

With the popcorn finished, my mom moved over to the counter and separated it into two separate bowls. As she poured the butter over one batch, she called to my brother who was playing a video game in the family room.

"James! Come and help Willow and me string the popcorn."

Earlier that morning, "Santa" had brought my brother the latest and coolest video gaming system that all the neighborhood boys were wishing for, including James.

He hadn't peeled himself away from the television set yet and I doubted that the task of sewing together pieces of popcorn, even with the tempting aroma coming from the kitchen, would entice him.

"In a minute!" he yelled back.

I had never understood why we had to wait until Christmas night to string popcorn for the Christmas tree, but my mother said that was the tradition in her family and that she felt it was important that she pass some of them along to my brother and me.

My mother sat down beside me at the kitchen table, daintily snacking on the bowl of yummy popcorn while helping me string the other.

"You've been rather quiet all day," my mom said.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just missing Daddy 'cause it's Christmas."

"I completely understand, Willow, but your father has been gone for over five years now," she said as she patted the top of my hand. "Five years."

She stared at me and kept her hand still on top of mine, as if five was the magic number, as if five years was long enough to grieve. I was confused. My mother could barely function as a human being for years after my dad had died and now she's sitting here telling me to basically get over it.

I pulled my hand away as if her words scorched my skin. "Why would you say that? Don't you miss him anymore?"

I could tell she was shocked by my reaction. She changed her approach and gently caressed my forearm. She chose her words carefully this time before she spoke. "Of course I do, dear, but I also know that it's time to... to move on."

Move on? I was speechless. My mouth hung open as the doorbell rang, interrupting the unimaginable scene before me.

James shouted from the other room. "Mom! Someone's at the door!"

"Coming."

My mother jumped up and suddenly seemed anxious as she smoothed down the bottom of her festive dress. I stared at my mother who now seemed like a stranger to me.

The doorbell rang again, but she stopped herself and met my gaze before she left the room. "It might seem impossible, but all of us need to move forward, Willow. All of us."

I turned away from my mother and wondered why she was so intent on making it the worst Christmas of my life.

##   CHAPTER  
TWELVE

The temperature rarely reached above twenty degrees during the latter part of December. It seemed as if there was some sort of precipitation falling from the sky everyday whether it was snow, sleet or freezing rain. I thought I would be stuck inside the house with my mother and brother during the whole week of winter break, but instead I was just stuck with James. Even though the three of us had off for vacation, my mother was never home and the mysterious visitor on Christmas evening was the reason why.

After my mother informed me that I should basically move on with my life and forget about my father, I quickly realized why she had been so insensitive. The reason was at least 6'6", had thick, brown hair, graying at the temples and had to duck down before entering the kitchen where I had remained. This giant of a man proceeded to brush the snow off the top of his very tall shoulders.

My mother stood next to him, cleared her throat and spoke nervously.

"Willow, this is my ummm... friend, uhhh, Mr. Roberts. Brian, this is my daughter, Wil..."

Mr. Roberts held his hand up and kindly interrupted my mom.

"Brian. I insist you call me Brian." He leaned his massive frame toward me and extended his huge hand.

"Nice to meet you, Willow." He smiled widely as if trying to impress me with his straight, yellow teeth. His teeth reminded me of horse teeth, which, like the rest of him, were big and tall.

His hand was so enormous I could barely wrap my fingers around it, so I just held onto the tips of his fingers and shook. I couldn't bring myself to return the fake grin or enthusiastic greeting. I could only stare at my mother in disbelief.

"Mr. Roberts and I," my mother started, but stopped when Mr. Roberts frowned and shook his head.

She smiled and continued. "I'm sorry. I mean Brian and I work together over at Orchard School." My mother turned back toward "Brian" just in time for a friendly wink.

I sat there, silent. What did she want me to do? Congratulate them for working together or for the fact that they were obviously more than "friends" since it was the first time my mother had groomed herself in years.

I still wouldn't respond. I just stared. All three of us felt the tension and my mother politely excused the two of them, but not before Mr. Roberts ended the awkward introduction with, "It was very nice to meet you, Willow."

I didn't answer. I just kept on staring. Finally, they left and went into the family room where my mom promptly kicked James off the television so she could spend some time with her gentleman caller.

Immediately, James pitched a fit, which delighted me. I hoped she was embarrassed in front of "Brian." My mother bargained with my bratty brother. She helped him disconnect his gaming system and told him he could hook it up to the TV in her bedroom and play for a little while longer.

James was somewhat content, but stomped up the rickety old stairs anyway. I was so surprised by how powerful his scrawny, little legs were and thought he might crash to the cellar below.

My cat, Princess, ran into the kitchen and hopped onto my lap. I could tell she wanted me to pet her. She rarely wanted to be touched. I assumed she was wary of the stranger in our home just as much as I was. As I sat there, I could feel my blood boil with each stroke of her fluffy, orange fur and had to control myself, afraid that if I kept going, I might skin the poor thing alive.

• • •

By mid-week, I was going stir crazy. My mom was off and running around with her new man and I was stuck home babysitting my brother. I told her it wasn't fair that I had to stay in, but she promised I could go wherever I wanted on the weekend; that she'd stay home with James.

I passed the time by chatting with my friends back in Massachusetts on FunForum. I told them about my mom and her friend and how I couldn't understand how she could date someone else. Gabby's parents were divorced, so both her parents had been dating others for quite some time and she assured me that I'd get used to it. I told her that I doubted it.

One afternoon I sat on my bed surrounded by my comfy pillows, on the Internet, connected only to Becca.

"And now Sarah is mad at Gabby for talking to her boyfriend, Pete, while she and her family were away for Thanksgiving visiting her grandparents in New York..." and on and on Becca went with her tales from Mass.

Becca said she felt like she was stuck in the middle of their fight. Even though I was actually glad to be away from all the drama, I still missed them very much, especially during times when I was feeling lonely.

Talking about Thanksgiving made me think of my own holiday fiasco and how Michael had shown up on my doorstep. I had not seen nor heard from him since. He hadn't returned to school and his MyWeb page was untouched, no new updates or postings. I was very worried about him, but I didn't know what to do.

I was supposed to hang out with Erica and Taylor over the weekend. If I got enough nerve, maybe I'd ask them what they knew about Michael and his situation. I figured that if he had grown up on the island like he had said, they would know him well. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I'd have to wait and see.

I signed off FunForum with Becca so I could go and grab lunch downstairs. Earlier that morning, my mom took the ferry over to the mainland to spend the day with Brian. She said they were going to take advantage of "after Christmas" sales and have lunch together. How sweet. I wanted to vomit.

I was on my way to the kitchen and about to pass my brother who was, once again, glued to the television and his Vampire Hunter game, when I stopped.

"Want lunch?"

Nothing.

"James!" I yelled.

"What?" he turned to me.

"Want me to make you some lunch?"

He shook his head. "Already ate," he said, as he held up a paper plate with hard, uneaten crusts from a peanut butter sandwich.

I was surprised he took the time, not only to eat a sandwich, but to make it, too.

"Kay," I said and went into the kitchen to search for some food for myself. I decided on a bagel and was just about done spreading some cream cheese on top when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," I shouted to James.

At first I thought it was my mother and that maybe she had forgotten her keys, but when I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only one, I realized she wasn't due home until dinnertime. I put down the knife and bagel, licked my fingers and headed for the front door.

A chilly blast of wind, littered with tiny snowflakes, greeted me when I opened the door and nothing else. An unfamiliar car sat in my driveway and when I took one step outside to investigate, I found Tessa leaning against the side of the house, smoking a cigarette.

"Hey. What's going on?" I asked confused.

"Can't smoke in my mom's car."

Just then the wind picked up and blew some flyers out of the overstuffed mailbox, which was attached to the side of our house.

Tessa motioned with a swing of her head as she took another drag. "You might wanna get those."

I carefully sidestepped Tessa, trying to avoid the plume of smoke that surrounded her, and grabbed all the mail.

It was so cold that I started to shake. "Want to come in when you're done with that?" I asked, referring to her cigarette.

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Then what are you doing here?" I asked as I moved back inside the front door, trying to seek refuge from the cold.

Tessa moved closer. "I wanted to know if you wanna come over to my house and hang out."

I glanced back over my shoulder at my brother. "Can't. I'm babysitting."

"Bring him."

"No," I snickered. "I don't think so."

Tessa looked over her shoulder at James. "Can't he stay home by himself?"

I shrugged.

"How old is he?"

"Gonna be nine."

"He's old enough," Tessa said as she flicked her butt on top of a snow-covered azalea bush. We both watched as the glowing paper melted the surrounding snow, turned it into water and finally extinguished itself.

She looked at me. "I used to stay home by myself all the time when I was only six."

"That's not saying much," I gestured toward the Range Rover, which was still running in my driveway. "You're driving all over the place and you don't even have your license yet, or permit, for that matter."

Tessa wagged her finger in front of my face. "You're wrong. I got my permit yesterday," she said and smiled from ear to ear.

"You did not."

"I swear. I have my new photo ID in the car."

Tessa pleaded. "Come on. Just for a bit, to celebrate the fact that I got it. What the hell else do you have to do?"

I looked at James who was practically in a catatonic state as he played his game.

"Plus," she said, "I'm freezing my ass off out here."

I hesitated, but caved. "Alright, just for a little while. Let me get my coat and I'll meet you in the car."

Tessa turned and walked away as I closed the front door behind her. Gingerly, I approached my brother.

"James, would you care if I went out with a friend for a little while?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he answered then quickly cheered and hollered after slaying the King of the zombies.

"Okay. Listen to me," I said as I stood in front of the television, blocking his view.

"What?" he moaned. "I'm listening."

"First," I instructed him, as I grabbed the cordless phone off of an end table. "Keep this with you and you can call my cell phone any time."

James took the phone and put it on his lap. "Fine. Anything else?"

I thought. "No eating or drinking. I don't want you to choke."

"I'll be fine, Willow. I'm not a baby, you know. I'm just gonna sit here and play my game."

"Okay," I said reluctantly. "Also, you can't tell mom and if you keep it a secret, there will be a reward in it for you..."

I thought quickly, "... like a new video game or something."

James rolled his eyes. "Fine. Please move now."

I left my brother and grabbed my wool Pea Coat off a chair near the front door. I still held the mail in my hand and quickly flipped through it. Most of it was junk mail, as usual, but one small, red envelope caught my eye. It was addressed to me, but had no return address on the front or back and I didn't recognize the handwriting. I wondered who it could be from and was just about to open it when Tessa beeped her car horn. I threw the mail down on top of an antique side table, grabbed my scarf, put on my coat and decided I'd open it later.

• • •

Tessa drove me to her house and pulled up next to Jaques's pickup.

I turned toward Tessa before climbing out. "Are your parents home?"

"Of course not. My dad is away at some seminar and my mom is in the city hosting some fancy luncheon."

Living out in the boondocks, I quickly realized that whenever anyone referred to the "city" they were talking about Portland.

I followed Tessa inside her foyer, which was fully decorated for Christmas. A huge, evergreen wreath, accented with metallic gold poinsettias, hung from one wall and garland, made up of fresh holly and bright red velvety bows, snaked up the curvy iron banister all the way to the third floor. Electric candles glowed softly in the windowsills. It smelled like a field of Evergreen trees.

"Your house is decorated so beautifully," I commented.

Tessa continued walking toward the back of the house. "The gardener did it."

Tessa made her way into the kitchen and immediately stepped into her walk-in pantry.

"You hungry?"

"No thanks. I ate," I lied.

"What'd you eat?"

I didn't have an answer because I remembered I never actually did end up eating the bagel and cream cheese. Tessa had rung the doorbell before I even took a bite.

"Actually, I guess I forgot to eat."

Tessa peeked her head around the doorframe. "How the hell can you forget to eat? I'm starving and there's no food in this place. Wanna order a pizza?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "But I didn't bring any money."

"Don't worry, I—" Tessa started to answer, but her brother interrupted us, appearing out of nowhere.

"Did I hear someone say something about pizza?" Jaques asked loudly as he entered the kitchen. He looked cute in a navy blue sweater and tight pair of jeans.

"You wanna order some pizza with us?"

"Sure, count me in," he said as he plopped down on a stool at the island.

"And here." Jaques leaned back and reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out his wallet and threw it on top of the island. Tens and twenties spilled out of it.

"It's on me," he half smiled. He seemed like he was drunk.

"How's it going, Willow?" he slurred.

"Good," I said as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the huge room.

"Come here," he said as he patted the seat next to him. "Come join me."

I looked at Tessa. "Go ahead. I'm just gonna go in the study to grab the phone book and some take-out menus. You guys decide what you want on the pizza."

Slowly I walked over to Jaques and he pulled another stool out for me. Reluctantly, I sat.

"So, young lady, what brings you here?"

I didn't want to, but I felt I had no choice but to look Jaques in the eyes. The blueness of them was dulled by the fact that the whites of his eyes were completely bloodshot. He was either drunk or stoned and I was a bit unnerved considering it was the middle of the day.

"Not much. Just gonna hang out with your sister."

Jaques looked around. "Where is that slutty sister of mine, anyway?"

Just then Tessa came into the kitchen with a phone book and a stack of menus tucked under her arm.

"Shut the hell up, Jaques!" she yelled.

Jaques, whose eyelids were half closed at this point, struggled to open them and mocked his only sister, "Sorry, Tess. I thought you liked it when I called you a slut."

With the reflexes of a wounded animal in the wild fighting for survival, Tessa hurled the phone book and menus at her brother. The menus flew through the air and the phone book slammed straight into his stomach. Jaques was so wasted he barely flinched.

"Why don't you go back in your drug cave and curl up and die?" she hissed at him.

Jaques pushed the phone book onto the floor. "Chill out, dude."

Tessa pointed down the back hallway from where Jaques had come. "Go, Jaques. Get outta here. Now!" she screamed.

Jaques stood, uneasy on his feet at first, got his balance and slowly sauntered away.

I looked at Tessa. She rolled her eyes. I was alarmed by this interaction. Apparently she wasn't.

"Remember you were afraid for me to drive you home last time and I told you it was better than having my loser brother do it."

Tessa bent down, picked up the phone book and menus and placed them on top of the counter. She shot me a look, as if to say, "I told you so."

She chose a menu and opened it up. "So? What do you want on your pizza?"

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTEEN

I was finally turning sixteen on the sixteenth of January. My dad had always said that that was going to be my "special" birthday celebration. His birthday was March seventh, so his special birthday, he felt, occurred when he turned seven on the seventh.

He thought mine was much more exciting because I would be older and could appreciate the specialty of it even more. He would always joke, too, that he hoped I'd abide by the old saying, "sixteen and never been kissed." My dad had told me time and time again that no man would ever be good enough for me, his little princess.

My sixteenth birthday was the very next day and I definitely achieved my dad's hope of never being kissed, but it wasn't necessarily my dream. Even so, I would have settled for "never, ever been kissed" just to have my dad around to celebrate my birthdays with me.

I tried not to make a big deal about my birthday, but I was very excited on the inside. It fell on a Saturday, so I was bummed that I wouldn't be in school hanging out with my friends.

Plus, I wasn't going to be able to get my driver's permit until the DMV opened back up on Monday, if my mom let me try and take the test at all. Even though I could have gotten my permit at fifteen, according to Maine's law, my mother said there was no way she would let me drive when I was only fifteen. She thought that even sixteen was too young for teens to be let loose and out on the roads.

When we first moved to Pike's, she said she would consider letting me get my permit when I turned sixteen, but when I asked her right after Christmas, she changed her tune.

"In order to drive, Willow, you have to exhibit responsibility and after the way you left your brother home alone during the break, I'm not sure you're ready for any kind of responsibility, especially getting behind the wheel of a four thousand pound, potentially deadly weapon."

My mother was so over-dramatic. I had no comeback. How was I to know that my mother would end her shopping spree early and get home before me because she had a migraine?

I had only stayed at Tessa's house for a couple of hours. We ordered pizza, ate it and checked out people's MyWeb accounts on her laptop. I told her I had to get back before my mother got home, but didn't tell her the other reason, which was that I wanted to leave before her brother resurfaced.

I knew I was in trouble the minute Tessa dropped me off. My mom's car sat in the driveway. I quietly entered the house and closed the front door behind me. My brother was smack dab in front of the television just like I had left him. I was about to tiptoe upstairs to my room when my mother yelled to me from over on the couch where she lay, a damp washcloth draped across her forehead.

"Willow Ann Flynn!" Slowly she sat up. "Don't you go anywhere!"

She scolded me, not only for leaving James, but also for forgetting to feed the cat. "Your cat!" she reminded me.

I was grounded the rest of vacation and was not able to meet up with Erica and Taylor after all. With nowhere else to go, I proceeded to stay home and either read and reread my books or surf the Internet. By the end of the week I was bored to tears. When the weekend came, my mom was home, too. When I asked her why she wasn't out with Mr. Roberts, I mean, "Brian," she said he was off somewhere, visiting relatives.

Thinking back, it now made sense why my mother promised me I could have the whole weekend to myself as long as I stayed home with James during the week. Brian was going to be gone and she wouldn't have had anyone else to go out with. How convenient for her, I thought. And after all that bargaining and babysitting, I ended up being stuck inside the whole time anyway.

But I wasn't going to let my worthless Christmas vacation put a damper on my special sixteenth birthday the next day. I got up bright and early that morning to ensure that I wouldn't be running late for the ferry. I took extra time getting ready, picking out a new outfit that I had gotten for Christmas and hadn't worn yet.

I tried to get through most of the day by staying calm and not letting my excitement show too much. I had made plans to go out with Erica, Taylor and two other girls from school for my birthday later that night. No one was available on Saturday evening, so we decided to hang out on Friday night instead. We were going to go to a local Italian restaurant for dinner and then to a movie afterwards.

I had planned on meeting up with Taylor and Erica during lunch so we could finalize my birthday plans, but neither of them showed up.

I sat at a table by myself, took a bite of my French bread pizza and texted both of them. Where could they be? Maybe they were in the library. I ate and waited, but no texts ever came back.

I looked around for the two other girls we were going to go with, Victoria and Megan, but I quickly remembered that neither of them was in our lunch wave.

I texted Erica and Taylor, again. I was just about to give up when Taylor texted me back.

"Sorry," she wrote. "Something came up and Erica and I can't make it to Luigi's tonight. We'll do it another night. Happy Birthday anyway!" She ended the text with a sad face.

Why the hell couldn't they "make it" and, more importantly, where the hell were they? What was so important that they had to cancel my birthday plans the day of and why didn't they tell me in person? I was fuming and crushing my empty chocolate milk container in my hand when someone appeared behind me.

"Whose head do you wish that was?"

I turned around to find Tessa alarmed and genuinely concerned for whomever I aimed my wrath.

She patted my shoulder. "You need to calm down, Willow. I'm sure it's not that bad," she said before turning and heading toward a testosterone-filled table where all the football players congregated.

I watched as she walked away and was perturbed by her, too. How would she know how bad it was? I couldn't tell Tessa what was going on, especially since we didn't invite her to join us for my birthday celebration. Erica and Taylor knew I was friendly with her, but I still hadn't told them that I had been to her house twice. They would still gossip about her almost every day and, as much as I didn't approve of it, I didn't feel close enough to Tessa to defend her. I would just sit and listen to them and remain mum.

In my own way, I liked Tessa and suspected she may have felt as lonely as I had at times. Maybe that's why she sought me out. Maybe she figured she could befriend the new girl who no one had claimed yet. I didn't know. I wasn't a part of any clique and really didn't want to be.

Most days I missed the close friendships I had had with Gabby, Sarah and Becca back in Massachusetts, but I realized it might take some time to make similar friendships with others in my new school. It had taken over eight years for ours to develop into such a strong bond. I just needed to be patient.

Lunch finally ended and I didn't end up seeing any of the girls the rest of the day. After my last class, and as I headed toward my locker to collect my books for the weekend, I spotted Victoria in the hallway. I waved to her, but she ignored me and answered her cell phone instead. I would text her later and hoped that she and Megan could still meet up with me. I figured three was better than none.

I sat by myself on the boat ride back to the island so I could pout in peace. All week long I had so been looking forward to the five of us going out for my birthday. I was disappointed to say the least. And just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse, Victoria answered my text. She apologized and said that she and Megan couldn't make it either. I couldn't believe it and thought I would burst into tears.

Very quickly my sadness turned to anger when I realized that everyone ditched me, yet didn't have the decency to tell me to my face.

I sulked the rest of the evening and stayed in my room, trying to forget about the night I was supposed to be having. My mom knocked on my door and popped her head inside.

"Are you staying in tonight, Willow?"

I looked up from my book. "It's either that or going out to dinner at Luigi's all by myself."

"Well," my mother reminded me, "don't forget. We'll be going out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate your special day."

I rolled my eyes and mumbled, "Thrilling."

"What?"

"Never mind," I said as I continued to read.

After my mom left, I closed my book, turned off my light and hoped that sleep would make me forget about the misery I'd be facing the minute I woke up on my "not-so-special day."

• • •

I purposely slept in late on my sixteenth birthday, not wanting to think about the cancelled plans from the night before. When I finally did roll out of bed, I sluggishly walked over to my full-length mirror and stared at my reflection. I didn't look any older and certainly didn't feel it. My hair was sticking up in a million different directions and my cheek had a light, white mark on it from where a puddle of drool had settled and dried overnight. I didn't look any different, I concluded... just pathetic.

I put on an old sweatshirt and dirty pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs. My stomach was really growling, since it was well past noon, but I wasn't in the mood to eat anything.

I grabbed the remote and plopped on top of the bumpy couch in the family room. I looked around and listened. For once, the house was quiet, almost eerily silent. There was no sign of my mother or brother. I could have heard a pin drop. I decided not to turn on the TV. Instead I rested my head and closed my eyes. I would relish the peace while it lasted, even as a rogue spring jutted through the cushion and jabbed me in my shoulder.

My cat, Princess, meowed, jumped on top of the couch and crept over toward me. She settled on my stomach. I tried to cuddle with her since I felt so desperately alone. Normally she wouldn't let me hold her so tightly, but she must have sensed my sadness and allowed me to snuggle with her. I was so grateful because Princess was the only thing that was even remotely warm in the arctic-like house.

I didn't realize it, but I had fallen back to sleep. My mother and brother startled me when they burst through the front door with armloads of shopping bags and a huge arrangement of helium balloons.

My mother rushed into the kitchen and shouted over her shoulder. "Happy birthday, Willow! Be right there."

James marched over to me and stopped. He proudly presented me with the special Mylar bouquet and beamed. "Sixteen balloons altogether, Willow, 'cause you're sixteen today!"

I forced a smile and took the strings. "Thanks."

My mom waltzed into the room holding a very big, very chocolaty cake with sixteen candles ablaze on top. She stood next to my brother and they both began to sing, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

Their melodious voices were drowned out by the voices in my head, by the absurdity of it all. Happy? What did I have to be happy about? Spending the day of my "special" sixteenth birthday all alone or spending the night with my preoccupied family, one with a new beau and the other with any kind of video game that involved killing another living thing.

As they finished their serenade, I blew out the candles, thanked them and rolled over so I could finish my nap.

"Don't you want a piece of delicious chocolate cake, dear? It's your favorite kind," my mother asked my back.

"No, thanks, I'm still full from lunch," I lied.

"Okay, then. I'll wrap it up so you can have some later."

As my mother walked away she informed me, "I hope it's alright, Willow. I asked Brian if he'd like to join us for dinner tonight and he said he'd love to."

My mom made sure to take cover in the kitchen and get out of my line of fire before dropping that bomb on me.

I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue, afraid of what I might say back to her.

Just then, my brother had the misfortune of switching on the television set and his beloved gaming system before settling into his new, rocking video chair.

In a split second, I flipped my body over, threw the remote at James and hit him square in the back of the head.

"Ow!" he screamed as he rubbed his skull.

"Don't even try it," I challenged through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "It's my freakin' birthday."

I must have scared him because he jumped up and ran to his room where he remained for the rest of the afternoon, while I napped on and off, atop the most uncomfortable couch in the world.

##   CHAPTER  
FOURTEEN

My mom finally forced me off of the couch at five o'clock and told me to go and take a shower before Brian arrived to pick us up. She also told me that we'd be dining at Luigi's. Did we really need to go there, I wondered? Why not just rub salt in my wounds while you're at it, I wanted to scream.

Just when I was about to kindly protest, I realized that Luigi's was the only Italian restaurant on the island and it was my favorite kind of food. But, despite the fact that they had the best calamari around, I wasn't too sure I'd be eating much of anything at all that night.

I was surprised my mom didn't offer to take us out to dinner at a restaurant on the mainland since it seemed to be Brian's favorite thing to do lately; hop on the ferry and spend the day in and around Portland, even in the freezing temperatures, while I sat home with my burden of a brother.

I finished getting ready and went downstairs to wait for our ride. I wished my mother would have driven the three of us and that we could have met Brian there instead.

I decided to go outside to get the mail, hoping to get a birthday card from my grandmother. She always made sure to send me a card right on time, so that it would arrive at my house on the exact day of the anniversary of my birth. If it fell on a Sunday, she would send the card on Saturday and I'd have to promise not to open it until the next day.

That's what my grandmother would always say to me about birthdays. "You only had one birthday, Willow. The rest are the anniversaries of that very special day on which you were born."

I loved my grandma and wished we could have lived closer to her and my grandpa, even though his health wasn't too good lately. She was always loving and attentive with James and me and I missed her more recently, now that my mother's affection seemed to be aimed elsewhere.

I shivered against the cold and saw that the mailbox was empty. Either the mailman hadn't come yet or my mom had already gotten it. I'd have to ask her later.

As I opened the front door to go back inside, the glare of a pair of headlights shone and settled on our blacktop. Rather quickly, the lights turned off along with the car's engine.

I closed the door behind me, grabbed my heaviest winter coat and yelled upstairs to my mom, "Mr. Brian Roberts is here!"

• • •

My mother took forever to get ready, forcing me to make painful small talk with her boyfriend. James, as usual, was entranced in his own video world.

"Happy Birthday, Willow!" Brian bellowed as soon as he ducked and entered the family room.

"Thanks," I said and wished I could have been struck with some sort of stomach virus at that very moment. Then I would have had no choice but to run upstairs, throw up, climb into bed and proclaim that I needed to stay in for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky.

Ironically, my stomach rumbled loudly and Brian pointed to it and grinned.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," he said proudly, as if he were a brilliant gastroenterologist who had just made a life-saving diagnosis.

I forced a smile, turned away and rolled my eyes, knowing that Dr. Roberts was actually right. The growling and churning were due to the fact that I hadn't eaten a thing all day, except for the lone Devil Dog I wolfed down right before my shower.

Finally my mother slowly, and with great care, descended the narrow old stairs, head held high, as if she were royalty.

I had never seen a grown man gush so much. "Laura, my dearest, you look absolutely divine."

My mother blushed. "Why, thank you, Brian. You look very handsome yourself."

At that very moment, I wanted to throw up, with or without the stomach bug.

• • •

We finally climbed into Brian's car and headed over to the restaurant. I assumed it was really crowded inside because we couldn't find a parking spot anywhere close to the front entrance.

"Can't you drop us off at the door?" James whined.

My mother snapped her head, as well as her words, at my brother. "No! Not tonight!"

Brian parked at the out-of-business gas station next door and we all headed toward Luigi's. I walked a few yards ahead of them. I wanted to get in and out of there as soon as possible and, in between, try to force some kind of food down my throat.

Brian and his humungous hand stopped me before I could open the front door.

"Here, birthday girl. Let me get that for you."

I walked in and Brian gave our name to the young hostess. She smiled warmly up at him. I assumed she knew him, along with everybody else on the island. Apparently, Mr. Brian Roberts was the most sought after fifth grade teach over at Orchard Elementary School and, for the life of me, I couldn't imagine why.

My mother and brother quickly scrambled inside behind us before being ushered toward a small, private room in the back of the restaurant. The lighting inside the main dining room was very dim, so we had to maneuver carefully past the overflowing tables. I couldn't figure out how we jumped ahead of all the other people who were anxiously waiting to be seated. I was just so thankful not to be one of them.

The four of us stood outside the little room in back and waited while our hostess knocked on its closed door. Why would she be knocking, I wondered? Did it mean that other diners were in there and we'd have to be jammed together with them?

The hostess finally opened the door and stepped aside so we could enter. My mother gently pushed me forward so that I stood beyond the threshold alone. The room was pitch black. All of a sudden, bright lights burst on and I was temporarily blinded as a choir of unexpected voices shouted out, "Surprise!"

I stood there, stunned, and was overcome with joy as my teary eyes feasted upon a room full of friends and streamers, sweet sixteen signs and dozens of pink balloons, all in honor of me and the sixteenth anniversary of the very special day on which I was born.

##   CHAPTER  
FIFTEEN

The night of my surprise sweet-sixteen birthday party had been a whirlwind. My friends lined up to greet me and to wish me a happy birthday. I couldn't believe my mother had arranged a surprise party for me and that I had no idea about it whatsoever.

Taylor came up to me first and apologized. "I felt so bad yesterday having to cancel our plans at the last minute, but we wanted to surprise you."

Erica added, "None of us thought that you ever should have planned your own birthday party, so we called your mom and she helped us arrange something even better!"

I smiled with appreciation, "Thank you."

Megan and Victoria also told me how guilty they felt canceling our plans the night before, even though they knew it was for a good reason.

There were ten girls, in total, and we had the room completely to ourselves. My mom, brother and Brian were going to leave and sit at a table in the main dining. Before they left, James, as usual, protested.

"Why can't we stay in here with Willow?"

"I'm sure your sister would rather be alone with her friends tonight," my mom said as she pulled him by the scruff of his neck.

My mother gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. "Have fun, dear."

I hugged my mother back. "Thanks, Mom. I will."

My friends and I ate delicious Italian food, gabbed, laughed and even gossiped. When it was time, they gave me their full attention as I opened each of their gifts. We finished the night with my favorite, double chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. I savored the moment as my friends gathered around me and sang, "Happy Birthday." To me, for the first time in a very long time, it really was.

• • •

I thanked each of my guests as their rides arrived to pick them up. Some of the lucky girls even drove their own cars to the party. I envied them and hoped my mom would let me get my permit soon.

My mom paid the bill as Brian stood beside her and the waitress. I thanked my mother, again, by hugging her even tighter this time.

"You're very welcome, Willow. I'm glad you had a nice time."

Brian drove us home and I actually thanked him, too, for giving us a ride. I was so happy, I felt like I was walking on air.

The three of us stood at the front door while my mother unlocked it. Just as my mom and James started to walk in, I noticed that there was mail stuffed inside our mailbox. I guessed the mailman had delivered it late after all. I grabbed the pile before I followed them inside and bolted the door behind me.

James and my mom went straight to bed while I stood next to the front door flipping through junk mail, flyers and bills. I was searching for my grandmother's birthday card and finally found it. I placed it on the very top and put the whole stack on the antique side table so I could take off my coat and scarf.

As I slipped off my jacket, my arm knocked some of the mail onto the floor, including my grandmother's card. I bent over and collected the mail, but couldn't find the card from my grandma anywhere.

I got on my hands and knees and searched around. It was nowhere to be found. How the heck could I have lost a card I was holding just a few seconds before?

I ducked underneath the side table and searched behind it. When I actually lay down flat on the floor, I could see a white envelope and the corner of a red one stuck between the table and the wall. I used my fingers to pry both of them from their secret hiding place.

I recognized my grandmother's handwriting on the big white envelope right away and knew it was my birthday card, but I was unsure whom the red envelope was from even though it was addressed to me.

I opened my grandma's card and smiled as I read it and, like always, she sent me a generous check. She signed it "Happy Anniversary, Willow. Love, Grandma & Grandpa."

I put down the card and check and tore open the mysterious small, red envelope. It was a Christmas card with a picture of a fireplace and a decorated mantel on the front. I opened the inside and read:

"Willow,

MERRY you will be,

on CHRISTMAS you will see,

the joy TO be given,

like our savior, YOU are risen."

And it was simply signed, "Michael."

When did Michael send me a Christmas card, I wondered and how did it get stuck behind the table? I was puzzled at first, but thought back and suddenly remembered how it had come in the mail during Christmas break and I had intended to read it, but hurried out because Tessa was waiting for me in the driveway. It must have fallen off of the table like my grandmother's card and been wedged back there the whole time.

Now that I solved the mystery of its arrival, I had to reread it to figure out what his words meant. More than that, I was baffled because I hadn't seen nor heard from him since that terrible night on Thanksgiving. Why did he feel the need to reach out to me at all when he clearly was pissed off at me?

At the very least, the unexpected card meant that he was alive and, hopefully, doing well. Even so, why couldn't Michael just call me and say, "Hi!" like a normal person? Why did he feel the need to send me a cryptic note instead, with a poem that didn't make any sense?

I read the note again and noticed that one word in each line of the poem was capitalized. I kept rereading it and when I finally pulled out just the capitalized words and put them in a sentence, I realized that the message read: "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU."

Still, I was confused. It had been almost three weeks since Michael had sent me the card and I hadn't heard another word from him in between. What was I to do? Thank him for the Christmas card or send him one after the fact?

I quickly realized that I couldn't have sent him a card even if I wanted to because he didn't write his address on the envelope. I had even tried to look up his address online through a free white pages website a while back, but there was no listing for him or his family.

Why did Michael Cooper do this to me? I had been feeling so joyful after my terrific birthday party, as if I were floating on a cloud and, now, his stupid note had totally burst my bubble and sent me crashing back to Earth.

I had moved on with my life and I thought Michael would have, too. I wished I hadn't dropped my grandmother's card. I never would have had to look for it and discovered it next to the mysterious red envelope. Along with my feelings for Michael E. Cooper it, too, would have been lost and forgotten forever.

##   CHAPTER  
SIXTEEN

The Saturday after my surprise party, my mom and I planned to take the ferry over to the mainland to go shopping for the day. I wanted to browse around and try on some new clothes. I had received a lot of gift cards as birthday presents from my friends to some of the hippest stores in Portland.

Originally Brian and my brother were going to come along, too, but I told my mom I wanted it to be just us girls. Eventually she agreed and, instead, Brian stayed back at our house and watched my brother. This meant that Brian would, most likely, be watching the back of James's head as he sat anchored in front of the television.

I told my mom that I thought James was addicted to his games, and my mom just shrugged it off. She must have realized this, too, deep down, but for my mom, it was all about convenience. Besides me, James's gaming obsession became a safe, substitute babysitter to him.

On the boat ride over, I tried to stay as warm as possible. My mom sat and read one of her many books she downloaded on her new e-reader, a Christmas present from Brian.

I studied my mother as she sat and read. Her face would become very expressive depending on what she was reading, a frown, a smile or a grimace. Sometimes she would even chuckle out loud, drawing the attention of the other passengers. She kept on reading, though, completely engrossed in the words before her and oblivious to those around her.

Watching my mother's love for reading, I thought back to the story about how I got my name. When I was little, my father would tell it to me over and over again as part of my nighttime routine. It was my favorite bedtime story.

My dad would make himself all comfortable and prop himself up at the foot of my bed. He would retell the story of how before he and my mom had kids, and at their first small, but lovely house, my father had planted a very special tree in the middle of their backyard. He had hoped that this tree would grow wide and tall enough so that my mother could sit under it and take refuge from the burning sun as she read and reread one of her many treasured books.

He took very special care of this very special tree by watering, fertilizing and pruning it whenever he was supposed to. The tree did grow far and wide and my mother relished the cool breeze that awaited her every time she sat underneath it.

It was under this very same tree that my mother told my father she was expecting their baby, the same tree where her belly grew bigger and bigger as each month crept by. All the while this special tree continued to grow and shelter my mother and the unborn child inside her.

It was no surprise then that when my mother delivered a healthy baby girl, they both knew, instinctively, that they would call me Willow.

My mother and father hated leaving their special Willow tree behind when they decided to sell our home after James was born because the house had become too small. My father snipped off a piece of the branch in order to make it into a sapling hoping that it, too, could grow and thrive in our new backyard.

Unfortunately the tree never took root nor grew as he had planned. My mother didn't have as much time to read anyway with a young daughter and a new baby. Regardless, my father had promised her that someday he'd plant her another special tree, just like her favorite Willow from years before. But, like most young fathers, life got too busy and he never got around to it.

As I laid my head back and closed my eyes, I remembered the story of my name. Willow, Willow tree, a special tree, I thought. I must have dozed off because before I knew it, my mother was gently shaking my shoulder to wake me.

"Willow, dear, wake up. We're here."

• • •

All bundled up, my mom and I walked around the streets of Portland. Even though the temperature never reached above thirty-four degrees, it felt much warmer as the sun shone brightly during what would normally be a gray and gloomy winter day.

We went to most of the stores where I had gift cards and I ended up buying some really cute outfits. My mother and I even stopped and grabbed a bite to eat at an artsy café where I recognized students from school working behind the lunch counter. I had thought about getting a job now that I was sixteen and shared this with my mom.

"Mom, I was thinking about filling out applications on the island so I can earn some spending money."

"As long as your grades don't suffer, Willow." She took a dainty bite of her turkey croissant.

I sipped my raspberry iced tea as I contemplated the right words to say. "The only problem is that there aren't many places for teenagers to work over on Pike's. I was thinking it might be easier to get a job over here in Portland."

My mother stopped chewing and stared at me. "Don't even think about it. It's far too dangerous for you to be taking the ferry back and forth by yourself, especially at nighttime."

"But—"

"No buts, Willow!"

I rolled my eyes and should have known better than to ask. I thought my mom would welcome the fact that I wanted to earn some of my own money so I didn't have to ask her for any. She probably just wanted to keep me stuck home so I would always be available to babysit my annoying brother.

The clanking of dishes, glasses and silverware were the only sounds I heard in that busy café because my mother and I chose to finish our lunch in complete silence.

• • •

After hours of shopping and walking around the city, I was actually exhausted. It was after five o'clock and we were going to catch the next ferry back to Pike's, but my mom wanted to stop in a pharmacy to buy some antacid first.

I held the pharmacy door as she entered.

"Poor Mr. Rob—I mean Brian has been experiencing some severe stomach problems lately," she said as I walked beside her. "I promised I'd pick up some medicine for him."

I shuddered inside. Did I really need to know the trouble going on inside my mom's boyfriend's digestive system? I didn't want to hear any more gory details so I told my mom I'd wait for her over by the magazine rack.

I was flipping through a fashion magazine when a tall, dark movement caught my eye. I looked toward the pharmacy counter and saw a boy dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans pay the pharmacist for his purchase. He collected his change and quickly headed toward the exit. From behind, I could have sworn it was Michael.

Without thinking, I ran across the store toward the disappearing boy. I pushed open the glass door and looked around. The street was bustling with activity and I couldn't find any trace of him. I searched all around, but could barely see above the heads of the others on the sidewalk.

I gave up and went back inside the store. As soon as I entered, a man approached me and took me by the elbow.

"Come with me please, young lady."

He identified himself as an undercover police officer and was told by a worker that I had run out of the store without paying for a magazine, a magazine that I still clutched firmly in my hand.

"No. You don't understand! I was just looking at it and only ran out of the store because I thought I saw somebody I knew. I planned on putting it back."

"Well, maybe you'll follow through with your plans better next time."

The man tried to bring me toward the back of the store, but I yelled. "Stop! Please! Let me get my mother!"

We were making a scene and started to cause a commotion. Other customers stared at us and I was really starting to get scared. I didn't want to go anywhere with this guy. Why would I have stolen a stupid magazine of all things? He wouldn't listen to me and kept dragging me toward the back. Just then my mother spotted me and ran over to the two of us.

"What is going on here, Willow!?" she demanded.

I started to cry and tried tell my mom what had happened. As I stammered my defense, the whole room seemed to get unusually hot. I suddenly felt light-headed and dizzy and desperately wanted to sit down. I tried to tell them this, but I couldn't get the words out. All of a sudden everything around me became blurry and my mother's stunned and confused face was the last thing I remembered before the blackness consumed me and sent me crashing to the floor.

##   CHAPTER  
SEVENTEEN

I was so embarrassed, so completely and utterly embarrassed. After I foolishly fainted and finally came to, I had a lot of explaining to do. My mom stood next to me as I sat on a brand new folding chair borrowed from one of the store's aisles.

"This is just a big misunderstanding, sir," my mother defended me to the officer. "My daughter has never stolen a thing in her life and why would she start now, when she's on a shopping trip with me?"

My mother held out her two arms, which were draped in bags. "It's not as though we can't afford a measly magazine!"

The officer let us go with a warning. I couldn't wait to get out of that store. Some shoppers stood around and gawked at us, while others went about their business. We were in such a hurry to leave that my mom forgot to buy some antacid for Brian and, of course, I had to hear about it the whole ferry ride home.

"This is all your fault, Willow! Now I'm going to have to drive out of my way to stop at a pharmacy for Brian once we get back to the island."

I turned away and stared out the window and watched as a seagull swooped down and effortlessly snagged a shiny, flopping fish for dinner.

"What were you thinking?! I don't care that you saw a friend from school. Use your brain. Never walk out of a store with merchandise, no matter how inexpensive."

Even though the air was chillier now that the sun was down, I wished that, I, too, could have flown away, far away from my mother. I would skip eating the raw fish part, though.

We finally got back to our house after making a detour to pick up some pink stomach medicine for Brian. My mother was so overwhelmed by my ordeal that she and Brian just had to go to dinner alone so she could relax and unwind. She told us not to wait up for her. Why would she and Brian be out so late? Were the two of them going to stop over at his place after dinner for a quick romp in the hay? Ewww, I was making myself nauseous just thinking about it. I had to stop.

In the meantime, James and I were stuck with two choices; either leftovers or frozen pizza. Neither appealed to me, so I heated up pasta and sauce from the night before for James and, afterward, headed up to my room.

I wasn't in the mood to eat anything because my mother had gotten me so upset. Not once had I ever given her a reason to worry about me and she acted as if I committed grand theft auto, a video game that James was dying for, but my mom said was way too violent for him.

I signed on to my MyWeb account and was checking out what other kids were up to on the weekend while I sat home, once again, and babysat. Just then I got an instant message from Tessa.

"Wanna hang?" it read.

I was just about to type "no," but thought better of it. Instead I typed, "Where?"

"Rocky is having a get-together over at his house tonight."

Rocky Johnson was a senior, the captain of the football team and the hottest guy in the whole school. He was about 6'3" and had the best body ever. He had thick, dark brown hair, a perfectly chiseled face and looked like a Greek God. Erica and Taylor thought he was gorgeous, too, and one day, during lunch, we nicknamed him "The God." If I spotted him in the hallways, I would feel myself getting flush immediately, even if I stared at him for only a few seconds. I felt as though my innocent lust for him would be written all over my face and that everyone around me would be able to read it, including him.

I couldn't believe that Tessa was inviting me to a party at his house. What would Rocky think if Tessa showed up with me? Who else would be going? Other girls or just guys? What, in the name of "The God," would Erica and Taylor think about this?

Again, I was about to respond, "no," but wrote something so uncharacteristic, even I couldn't believe it. "When can you pick me up?"

"I'll head over in about ten," Tessa answered.

I slammed my laptop closed and pushed it far away from me as if it might infect me with some sort of incurable virus. What the hell did I just do? I told Tessa that I would go to a party with her to the home of one of the hottest guys on the planet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Who was this stranger staring back at me?

I quickly realized there was no turning back. I jumped up and ran over to my closet to try and figure out which new outfit I would wear to the party. My initial doubt disappeared and was replaced with intense mixed feelings of both anticipation and dread; a combination I had never felt before in my sixteen years and one week of life.

• • •

I looked in the mirror and was quite pleased with what I saw. I had on a pretty, lacy navy blue top with a matching blue cami underneath and a pair of expensive London Edge jeans. All the girls in my school wanted LE jeans, especially after tons of celebrities were photographed wearing them. The only problem was that you could only buy them in specialty boutiques.

Luckily, Portland had one such chic shop called Salsa. Two of the girls at my party had given me gift cards from there and I used the birthday money my grandma had sent me to cover the difference in the cost of the trendy denim. My mother had said that she was "dumbfounded" that I would waste so much money on one pair of jeans. I wanted to tell her that she was acting like half of that same word without the "founded" part, but I didn't dare. She probably would've slapped me.

I hadn't had time to take a shower, so I re-straightened my hair and put on a minimal amount of makeup. I thought I always looked prettiest if I looked more natural than heavily made up. I cleaned up my room and fussed with my bed and comforter.

I did a final check in the mirror, and once I was pleased with the product, grabbed my cell phone and keys and headed downstairs. I now had to deal with the biggest, yet scrawniest obstacle that was going to come between my night out and me.

• • •

I stood directly in front of the television and waited for it.

"What the heck are you doing?" James wailed. He stood up and tried to push me out of the way. I had braced myself and didn't budge.

"Listen! I'll make a deal with you."

"Get outta my way first!"

"No. I need your undivided attention."

"Fine." He put down his controller. "Hurry up!"

"I'm going out tonight and was gonna leave you by yourself."

"So," James shrugged. "You've done that before."

"Yeah, but last time I got caught."

My brother got defensive. "That wasn't my fault!"

"I know. Sorry. But tonight you're gonna have to tear your butt away from your video game and into bed before mom gets back. Remember, she said that she'd be home late."

"What if she checks on us?"

"That's simple. You'll be in your bed, hopefully asleep and I stuffed my bed with clothes to make it look like I'm in it. Then I'll just quietly sneak in after Mom's asleep."

James nodded his approval and became very thoughtful. I could hear the wheels churning in his head.

"What's in it for me?"

I knew this moment would happen and, luckily, had already thought out a payment plan.

"I'll buy you the Grand Theft Auto video game, as long as you never let Mom see you playing it."

James squinted his eyes and sized me up.

I added, "And if this works out tonight, there might be other new video games in your future if I ever decide to sneak out again."

He didn't hesitate and stuck out his hand. "Deal."

I shook his hand and said, "Deal," at the exact same moment Tessa blared her car horn. I grabbed my coat, ran outta there as fast as I could and, fearing regret, didn't dare look back.

##   CHAPTER  
EIGHTEEN

I had to pinch myself a couple of times. I couldn't believe I was on my way over to Rocky Johnson's house with Tessa, at what was sure to be a memorable and exciting night. Kids would talk about various parties throughout the school year and Rocky's always seemed to be the most legendary.

His parties were different. Unlike most teenagers, who waited until their parents were away, Rocky's parents were always in attendance and encouraged kids to hang at their house and party, as long as they didn't drive home. They were really cool.

I had to take slow, deep breaths once I climbed inside Tessa's car. I wanted to act all casual in front of her and not let her see how extremely nervous I was, not only for going to Rocky's, but also in hopes of being able to sneak back into my house after escaping.

Tessa glanced at me. "You look nice."

"Thanks," I said. "You do, too."

Tessa cracked the car window and lit up a cigarette.

"I thought you weren't supposed to smoke in your mom's car?"

"I'm not, but she barely drives it and if she ever did say it smelled like smoke, I would just blame you."

Tessa smiled and gave me a wink.

"Thanks a lot," I said.

I wanted some questions answered about the big night. I needed to remain calm and act unaffected by her answers.

"So, who else is going?"

"Not sure."

"His parents are gonna be there, right?"

"Dunno." She blew a mouthful of smoke out the window. "Who cares who's gonna be there as long as we are?"

"Where does Rocky live?"

"Over on North Shore."

"Where's that?"

Tessa looked at me, appalled. "On the north shore. Duh!"

"I can't help it if I don't know my way around the island."

"Well you better get familiar with it soon or you're gonna end up driving into the ocean by mistake some day."

"I'm not that stupid," I shot back.

Tessa took a deep drag and let it out slowly. "We'll see about that."

I shook my head at her rudeness and stared out the window at the darkness that surrounded us, while on my way to a high school party at Rocky "The God's" house, a high school party I had absolutely no business attending.

• • •

If it was even possible, Rocky's house was bigger than Tessa's. I couldn't tell for sure how much, but we had to be buzzed in at a stunning wrought iron gate before traveling up the steep driveway.

The house was so huge, it seemed as if it were actually three separate houses all connected. The only way I could tell in the dark was from the glowing windows scattered throughout the massive residence. What the heck was I doing here and when was the appropriate time to text Erica and Taylor about my adventure? As Tessa parked the car, I decided I'd wait and see how the night unfolded before I told the girls all about it.

I followed Tessa up the cobblestone walkway. The moonlit sky illuminated the expansive front lawn revealing colossal contemporary sculptures made from bent steel and wood. Some even seemed to stand taller and wider than my uncle's tiny house.

We stood and waited in an enclosed brick entryway as Tessa rang the doorbell. We could hear loud music coming from beyond the gigantic, weathered double doors.

Just when Tessa was about to ring the bell again, the front door flew open and a very tall man greeted us with a wave and a huge grin. I knew immediately it was Rocky's father. He was a handsome, older version of his son.

"Welcome to the Johnsons', young ladies! I am Mr. Johnson, but all the kids call me Johnny."

Johnny stepped aside so Tessa and I could enter. Rocky's foyer was, for sure, bigger than my whole house over on Juniper Drive. I looked around and saw kids milling about, boys and girls. I recognized most of them from school and each of them had some sort of drink in their hand.

As Tessa and I started toward the back of the house, Mr. Johnson stopped us. He tapped Tessa on the shoulder and pointed to a wicker basket he was holding.

"You know the drill," he smiled.

Tessa smiled back and dropped her car keys in the basket before continuing on her search for Rocky.

I pulled on her sweater. "Hey! How we gonna get home?"

Tessa stopped and lectured me. "Willow. Chill. Don't worry about that now. Let's have some fun first."

I rolled my eyes and figured I had no other choice but to stay with Tessa and follow her lead because I had no idea about what I was supposed to do next.

• • •

After walking around for what seemed like an hour, Tessa and I finally stumbled upon Rocky and his entourage hanging out in a room with a pool table and arcade games. Tessa pinched his very nice butt and he twirled around to greet us.

"Hey, Tess! What's up?" He kissed her cheek. "Glad you could make it."

Tessa grabbed his hand and held onto it. "I wouldn't miss one of your kick-ass parties for the world."

Rocky looked at me as I hung behind Tessa like a baby monkey clutching on to its mother's back for dear life.

"Who's your little friend?" he asked.

I wasn't sure if I liked that he said "little." Did it mean I looked young, too young to be there or was it a compliment, like I was little, meaning skinny? I quickly reasoned it was better than if he had asked her, who is your "enormous" friend.

Tessa turned to me. "Rocky, this is Willow."

Rocky checked me out, from head to toe, and nodded his approval. He stuck out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Willow." His eyes sparkled when he spoke and his smile lit up the whole room.

I shook his hand, which was very big and sweaty. "Nice to meet you and thank you for having me." I sounded like a dork.

I couldn't believe that I was not only staring at "The God" for more than a few seconds, but that I was actually exchanging words with him, too. I could feel my face beginning to get hot. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something sad so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of this perfect human specimen. My dad's face popped in my head and could feel myself cooling off, but not for long.

"So, where do you go to school?"

Rocky Johnson was talking to me again.

Before I could answer, Tessa jumped in. "To our school, you big idiot," she said as she punched Rocky in his muscular shoulder.

He grabbed his arm and pretended to be hurt. "Ow, you little pisser. That hurt!"

Tessa leaned into him. "If you play your cards right, I'd be more than happy to hurt you even more later."

Rocky threw his head back with laughter as Tessa looked at me and smiled.

I half-smiled back, feeling really uncomfortable.

Tessa scanned the room. "Hey, Rock? Where's the bar?"

"Behind the kitchen. My parents just built an addition especially for it."

Rocky looked at me. "Want me to get you ladies a drink?"

"No, thanks," Tessa answered. "It's cool. I'm gonna head over there and check it out myself."

Tessa turned toward me.

"Willow, why don't you stay here and talk to Rocky about how much you love our school and I'll go and grab us both a drink."

Tessa and Rocky stared at me. I felt completely on the spot. There was no way I was going to let Tessa walk away and leave me alone. With him.

"No, that's okay. I'll come with you. I need to use the bathroom anyway," I lied.

"Suit yourself," Tessa said before turning and walking toward the glass-paned, game room doors.

Before I followed her, I turned to smile at Rocky as if to say thanks, but he was already engaged in a conversation with all of his oversized football buddies. They looked like a band of gorillas, as they horsed around and slapped each other on one another's backs. I guessed everybody acted like members of the animal kingdom once in a while.

##   CHAPTER  
NINETEEN

Something was vibrating and hitting me in my temple over and over again. The room was dark and it hurt to open my eyes. The vibrating came again. I didn't know what it was and sat up to find out. Immediately, my head throbbed and felt as if someone whacked me on the side of it with a sledgehammer. As I closed my eyes and laid back down, I smacked the back of my head on something very hard. I forced my eyes open. Once they adjusted to the darkness, I turned around, looked behind me and found myself staring at an ornate, golden metal headboard.

I didn't own an ornate, golden metal headboard. I quickly shot up and looked around. Where the hell was I? I was confused at first and then my memory came flooding back to me. I was still at Rocky's!

The vibrating came again and was hitting me in the shoulder this time. I looked down and realized it was my cell phone. I picked it up and answered.

"Hello."

"Where the hell are you?" Tessa demanded.

"I have no clue." I looked around, saw a lamp next to me and switched it on. The light burned my eyes. "I'm in a room with giant-sized red and gold flowered wall paper and a big white chair in the corner." My head throbbed.

"That doesn't help me, Willow. Get your ass outta there and meet me by the front door," she snapped and hung up.

Slowly I climbed off the pretty bed, where I had crashed, and straightened the fluffy comforter. I left the bedroom and tried to find my way around the maze of winding hallways so I could meet up with Tessa. My head felt like it was going to explode with every step. I never would have thought that anything could hurt worse than a migraine, which I had had a few times in the past. But this special kind of headache did.

I finally found the front staircase and wobbled down it, holding on to the railing for support. Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, Tessa joined me in the foyer and held two large water bottles in her hands.

She pushed one toward me and whispered, "Here. You're gonna need this."

Tessa grabbed her keys out of the infamous wicker basket and traipsed out the front door. I followed her as I tried to unscrew the top to the water bottle. Even that was proving to be too much of an effort so I gave up and just positioned the cold, plastic bottle across the top of my pounding forehead.

• • •

Once inside Tessa's car, I had a million questions for her. Before I could even ask one of them, she turned to me.

"You look like shit."

I stared at her in disbelief. "You don't look so hot yourself."

The car reeked of alcohol, but I wasn't sure if it was Tessa, me or both of us.

I was finally able to pry off the water bottle cap and took a huge gulp. I couldn't believe that I stayed overnight at Rocky's house and that my mother had no idea. I assumed she didn't know I was gone because I hadn't had any missed calls or texts from her. She definitely would have called me a million times if she had realized I wasn't home.

I finished the huge bottle of water and felt some relief. I was ready to start firing away at Tessa.

"Why didn't you tell me ahead of time that we had no choice but to spend the night over there?"

"I didn't really think about it."

I was dumbfounded. "Didn't think about it! Well, did you think about how I was going to explain it to my mother when I never returned home? When I was never even supposed to be going out in the first place, leaving my brother alone!?"

Tessa got defensive. "How was I supposed to know that? You didn't tell me you were babysitting."

"Whatever." I laid my head back and closed my eyes.

I thought out loud. "Now I've gotta sneak back into my house. If I get caught, I am beyond screwed."

"I'm not," Tessa offered up.

"Why not?"

"I told my mom I was sleeping at your house," she said, matter-of-factly.

I sat up and shot Tessa a dirty look. "Why didn't you tell me that before we went out?! I would have told my mom that I was going to sleep at your place."

For once, Tessa was the rational one. "Think about it, Willow. I must know your mom better than you do. Would she have let you spend the night at my house? She's never even met me."

I knew she was right, but I was still pissed.

"That's not the point. I wouldn't have gone to Rocky's in the first place if I knew it was gonna turn into a slumber party."

Tessa smiled wryly and hit me in the shoulder. "Admit it. You had a great time."

I rolled my eyes and turned away. Even that hurt my dehydrated brain. I couldn't answer Tessa at that moment, even if I had wanted to. I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't remember a darn thing that happened at Rocky Johnson's party. No wonder they were legendary.

• • •

I stood at my front door and fumbled with my keys. I was more nervous now than when I had walked out the night before. I needed to be quieter than I had ever been. I checked my cell phone. It was only 6:30 A.M. Both my mother and brother should still be asleep.

I gingerly opened and closed the front door behind me. Thankfully, the house was still and quiet. I tiptoed up the stairs, carefully maneuvering around the floorboards that tended to squeak the loudest.

I made it into my bedroom, closed my door and finally breathed a sigh of relief. I was safe. I stripped off my clothes, rolled them into a ball and shoved them underneath my bed. I would wash them later, unsure of whether the stench of alcohol was coming from my clothes or my pores.

I climbed into bed and gulped down the rest of an old water bottle that sat on my nightstand. I didn't care that it tasted horribly. I couldn't believe how crappy I felt. So, I thought to myself and concluded; I was in the throes of my first real hangover. I had never gotten drunk before in my life, ever!

One time when I lived back in Mass, Gabby stole two of her mother's wine coolers and we experimented by splitting the bottles between the four of us. They tasted good, but none of us felt any differently after drinking them. Maybe it was because we didn't drink enough, only half a bottle each, or because we had just chowed down on all sorts of junk food beforehand. Either way, I was totally unprepared for getting drunk, really drunk, for the first time. It shouldn't be called a hangover, I thought. It should be called a deathover because I felt like I was going to die.

At first I couldn't even remember what I drank; beer, vodka, a rum and Coke? I had no idea. As I lay in my bed, I tried to recall the events from the night before. Most memories were foggy, but I tried my hardest to remember.

I remembered arriving at Rocky's house, Tessa surrendering her keys and meeting Rocky. Tessa and I made our way toward the kitchen and into the addition behind it. The bar room resembled an authentic, old English pub with dark, mahogany paneled walls and an ornate, tin metal ceiling. The lighting was low, so we had to walk slowly through the crowd.

Tessa order two beers and handed me one. I sipped it and didn't like the taste at all, but didn't let her know because I didn't want to seem un-cool.

I remembered drinking another beer and then another one. Tessa and I went back to the game room and hung out with Rocky and his friends. From what I can remember, we played pool with the guys and actually had a good time. That's where my memory started to get fuzzy.

As I turned over in my bed and snuggled underneath my covers, I thought hard about what had happened. I remembered bits and pieces of the rest of the night. I think Rocky took me by the hand as I followed him up a staircase and into a bedroom, not the bedroom I woke up in, but another one. We sat on the edge of the bed and talked. He complimented me, said something about my eyes being pretty.

Rocky had said that I had a nice body, too, as he felt his way up the inside of my shirt. I remembered panicking and jumping off the bed. I also remembered telling him I thought that I was going to throw up. He came back with a small trashcan and handed it to me. I cringed to myself as I remembered throwing up violently into the fancy garbage can. When I finally stopped, I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and looked around the room. Rocky had vanished.

I left the room and made my way into the foyer. I had to get outta there. I wanted to find the basket with the car keys and drive myself home. What the hell had I been thinking? Not only did I not know how to drive, I was drunk and thought nothing of stealing Tessa's car. No wonder people did stupid things when they were drunk. Intelligence and common sense stayed at the bar as soon as you took that very first sip.

I recalled walking, actually stumbling, around the foyer looking for the keys and being intercepted by Mr. Johnson. By this time his face was blurry to me, but I remember him saying that I couldn't drive home or anywhere, that there were plenty of beds in the place and to go find one.

That's how I must have ended up in the flower room. I was completely mortified once I remembered what had happened to me. What was I going to do on Monday at school if I ran into Rocky or any of the other kids who were there? Did anyone else know what had happened to me? Hopefully, like me, they were all too gone to remember.

Even if they weren't, I doubted any one of them would have cared about my wild night. I hoped this would be the case and that no one would be gossiping about Tessa or me. If it were possible, I would have gone back in time and stayed home, bored and alone, with my brother. I pulled the covers over my head and wished I could have been stricken with a convenient case of amnesia for the rest of my life.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY

I must have fallen asleep for quite a while. I woke up to the delicious smell of bacon and maple syrup. Why was my mom making such an elaborate breakfast, I wondered, or was I simply in the middle of a dream? James and I usually had to fend for ourselves and would settle for a quick and easy bowl of cereal.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes and realized it wasn't a dream. My head was still pounding even though I had gotten up at some point, taken a few aspirin and gulped down a gallon of water. My whole body ached, too. As I lay there, I was, once again, horrified and embarrassed about the night before. I couldn't believe I went to a party at Rocky Johnson's house, got groped by him, threw up in a trash can and passed out somewhere in his mansion. The whole thing was so unbelievable, I started to chuckle.

I rolled onto my side and faced my nightstand. I studied my favorite snapshot of my dad and me. I remembered posing for the picture. It was at Christmastime and my father and I wore matching Santa hats. He was so handsome with his thick, chestnut hair and twinkling, dark blue eyes. I knew the picture was taken right before he died because it wasn't until then that he had grown any facial hair. My mom would tease him and tell him that when she kissed him, it felt like she was kissing sandpaper. My dad would laugh and grab her around the waist and try to rub his goatee all over her face. She would scream and try to get away while James and I laughed at their silliness.

I decided to get dressed and head downstairs. Although I was suffering from a hangover, the aroma was too much to resist. Maybe some greasy and fattening food was what I needed to feel better.

James, as usual, was parked in front of the television eating a stack of pancakes. I went into the kitchen and watched as my mom placed a heaping plate of steaming bacon on the table. She spotted me.

"Well, good morning, sleepy head!"

Why the heck was she so cheerful? And why was she all dressed up and wearing her favorite lime-green apron that I hadn't seen in years?

"Would you like some pancakes, bacon or both?" she asked as she poured some batter into a frying pan.

Slowly I sat down. "I'll have both, please."

I was about to ask my mom what the special occasion was, but didn't have to. Just then, someone slammed the bathroom door shut very loudly. My mom and I turned toward the kitchen doorway just as Brian ducked under it to join us.

"Well, good morning, Willow!" he beamed.

He had a newspaper tucked under his armpit and looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Brian was usually dapper, but his shirt and pants were all wrinkled and his hair was a complete mess. It quickly dawned on me why my mother was going through all this trouble to make such a fancy breakfast. I cringed as the visual filled my mind. I thought I would throw up whatever contents were left in my shrinking stomach right then and there. Mr. Brian Roberts had slept over our house, in the same bed, with my mother!

• • •

Somehow I managed to wolf down a ton of pancakes and bacon, despite the fact that I had to do it in the presence of my overly flirtatious mother and her "lover." Ewww... just the word "lover" made me want to regurgitate all that I had just eaten.

My mother stood over the stove. "Bri-Bri, would you please hand me the spatula?"

Brian grabbed the spatula off the table and pretended he was going to spank my mom with it.

My mother shot him a look and motioned over to me. Yeah, yeah, I got it. Brian was into spanking. Ewww... again, I almost lost it.

Luckily I was able to keep my food down and felt better almost instantly. My headache subsided and I had a little more energy. I cleared my place at the table, excused myself and headed upstairs to my room. I was going to spend the day in bed, catching up on my homework and also on my sleep.

I emptied my backpack and spread my books and folders all over my bed. I decided I would take a nap after I finished up my Social Studies paper. I grabbed my computer and was about to type up my bibliography, but decided I would quickly sign onto my MyWeb account and check out other people's pages. Tessa's didn't show any activity from the night before, but there was a link posted on her wall with new photos.

I clicked on the link and immediately recognized that the pictures had been taken at Rocky's on Saturday night and were posted by one of his friends, Josh. I wasn't friends with Josh, but was still able to view the photos.

They were mainly of him and his buddies doing stupid things like pouring beer into each other's mouths while standing on top of the bar. I was thankful that I wasn't in any of the pictures. I clicked on a few more and was just about to sign off when I noticed that I had an unread message in my mailbox. It must be new, I figured. Unfortunately, I didn't check to see whom it came from first. I opened the message and never could have imagined the impact of its three simple words: "Happy Belated. Michael."

• • •

Why was Michael wishing me a happy birthday, now, a week after the fact? For that matter, why was he wishing me a happy birthday at all? I hadn't seen him since Thanksgiving nor heard from him since Christmas. Initially, I had thought about sending him a message thanking him for the cryptic Christmas card, but decided not to. What would I have said in the note; thanks for the card with the puzzling message, thanks for never calling me or making an effort to see me in person?

By this point, I had moved on with my life. Tessa and I were becoming better friends and I had just been to my first real party at the house of the hottest guy in high school. I had no need for Michael or his mysteriousness anymore.

I almost deleted the message, but thought that I at least owed him a response one last time. "Thanks," I typed back.

I forced myself to sign off the Internet because I had to finish my paper if I was going to nap at all. I found the rough draft of my bibliography and started typing. I was just about to finish when my phone rang. I picked up my cell and read the caller ID. It said that the call was restricted so I wasn't able to tell whom it was. Who the heck could it be, I wondered? Curiosity got the best of me and I picked up.

"Hello?"

"You're welcome."

"You're welcome?" I was confused. "For what? Who is this?"

"It's me. Michael. I said "you're welcome" because you thanked me for the belated birthday wish."

"Oh."

"Sorry it was belated. I didn't realize it was your birthday until afterward."

Michael coughed, but continued. "How was your birthday, by the way?"

"Good," was all I could muster. What did this kid want from me?

"So, what's going on?" he asked.

I couldn't hide the annoyance in my voice. "Why did you call me restricted?"

"'Cause I wanted you to answer and I didn't think you would if you knew it was me."

So I wasn't overreacting about him. He must have felt badly, after all, for the way we left things back in November.

"I sent you a Christmas card. Did you ever get it?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did, but I didn't know what to do about it. I couldn't have sent one back to you, even if I wanted to. I don't have your address, I don't know where you live, I don't know why you don't go to school, I don't know anything about you, Michael Cooper. So why would I bother with you at all?"

I couldn't believe what I had just said to him, but I couldn't help myself. These feelings had been bottled up for so long and I finally got them out, to the person who needed to hear them. To be quite honest, I felt a sense of relief after I said it.

I could hear Michael breathing on the other end, but he didn't respond. I didn't care. I was not going to apologize for telling him the truth about how I felt. Bottom line, they were my feelings and I was entitled to them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're right. I've acted like an idiot and I'm sorry."

What was I to say back to him? He was apologizing and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Please forgive me."

Without warning, I responded, "It's okay. You're not an idiot, an enigma maybe, but not an idiot."

Michael laughed. I did, too.

"Listen, Willow. I will tell you all about myself, if you'd like, in person, next weekend."

I paused. I didn't know what to say.

He continued. "I completely understand if you don't want to see me. But think about it and if you do, meet me at my house on the island, at 161 Shoreline Drive, next Saturday night at five."

I still couldn't speak.

"Say you'll be there."

I shook my head and mumbled. "I don't know."

"That's fine. Just think about it. In the meantime, I'll wish it upon a star."

I could hear my mother's footsteps coming down the hall.

"I've gotta go, Michael."

"Okay. 'Til then," he said and hung up.

My mother knocked on my door and opened it.

"Willow, Brian and I are gonna head over to the mainland for a few hours. Can you stay here with James?"

I nodded my head. "Sure." As usual, I had nothing better to do anyway.

"Thanks, dear," she said before closing my door.

I was completely baffled by my conversation with Michael. What the hell was I going to do; meet with him next Saturday or completely ditch him? I was so utterly confused. My head began throbbing and I started to feel as if I was in the throes of a debilitating hangover all over again. I pushed my books off my bed, crept under the covers and closed my eyes, hoping to wake up and realize that the past twenty-four hours had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-ONE

I zipped up my North Face as I left the warmth of my mom's car and headed for the ferry. It was frigid outside and I was getting sick and tired of having to take a boat to school everyday. Plus, every time I took a deep breath, it felt as though tiny icicles were forming on the inside of my lungs. Normally I liked spending time outdoors, but I was feeling a little too close to nature and could not imagine spending the rest of my life on the frozen island.

I grabbed a seat closest to the heater and stuck my hands inside my pockets. I spotted Taylor and Erica across the ferry and as soon as they saw me, they ran over. Taylor sat on one side of me, Erica the other.

"Hey! Why didn't you call me yesterday? I texted you like a million times," Erica demanded.

"Yeah. Me, too," Taylor added.

"I was busy. Plus, I had a ton of homework to do."

I turned to Erica. "What was so urgent?"

Erica looked at Taylor, smiled wryly and then looked back at me. "What the hell happened Saturday night?" she shouted.

"Shhh," I said and looked around. "What do you mean, what happened?"

Erica lowered her voice. "I mean what happened to you? At Rocky's?"

I was shocked. How did Erica and Taylor find out about the party when I never ended up telling either of them? I had thought about giving them a detailed report at the beginning of the night, but decided against it once I thought about how stupidly I acted. I was way too embarrassed to tell them how Rocky had fondled me and how I hurled immediately afterward.

I became defensive. "How did you guys find out?"

"Josh is my neighbor and I'm friends with him on MyWeb," Taylor said to me.

"So?"

"So!" Erica took over. "Taylor and I looked at the pictures Josh posted from Saturday and saw you, smack dab in the middle of all the fun!"

I was truly puzzled. "I don't understand. I checked out the pictures, too, but I didn't see myself in any."

"I'm telling you, you were in them. How else would we have known?" Erica sounded very convincing.

Taylor tugged on the sleeve of my jacket as if to bring me back to reality. "Do you fully comprehend that you went to a party at a house belonging to Rocky, "The God?" Do you?!"

Taylor's normally pale face was turning a shocking shade of red.

"Details, damn it. We want all the details, don't we, Tay?"

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"Calm down, you two," I said.

As much as I considered Erica and Taylor to be my friends, I didn't fully trust them either. The two of them made gossiping seem like a sport. Regardless, I felt like I had no choice but to tell them what happened, or at least part of it.

"Well," I started. "I was home, bored out of my mind, when Tessa called me and asked me if—"

As expected, Erica stopped me dead in my tracks. "Who called you?"

"Tessa. Tessa Anderson."

"Yeah, I know which Tessa. There's only one at our school." Erica was not amused. "Why did she call _you_?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. Just did. Anyway she asked me if I wanted to go to a party over at Rocky's house and I told her—"

Taylor interrupted this time. "So Tessa just picked up the phone, dialed a random number and got you on the other end?"

I closed my eyes. I was running out of patience. "Kind of. Who cares why she called me or how I got there. I just did."

I could tell that the girls were not happy with my evasiveness and I understood why. I never told them that I hung out with Tessa in the past. Never. Even so, I continued.

"We got there, I had too much to drink, don't remember much and stayed in bed with a hangover all day yesterday."

"Yeah, but what about Rocky? He was there, right?"

Taylor was annoying me. "Yes, he was there, Taylor. The party was at his house."

Erica tried to sound casual. "Did you hang with him at all?"

I shook my head and lied. "Not really. He was busy hangin' with his usual posse."

"So, what'd you do then?" Taylor wanted to know.

I was forceful. "I told you. I don't remember!"

Taylor recoiled from my nastiness. I felt badly and softened. "I should've just stayed home that night and avoided the whole situation. That way I wouldn't have felt like I had been run over by a tractor trailer and wouldn't have wasted my whole entire Sunday trying to recuperate."

I hoped my last answer would stop the two of them from asking any more questions because, this time, it was the absolute truth.

• • •

I was never more excited to climb the steep steps and enter the front doors of Portland High. It allowed me to get lost in the hallways and escape from Taylor and Erica and their bombardment of questions.

As I headed to my locker, I saw Rocky walking toward me from the opposite direction. For once, he was alone. I stopped at my locker, turned around and faced him as he walked by. Our eyes met. I smiled my prettiest smile. I waited for his. Instead he stared at me, quizzically, as if to say, "Do I know you?" Embarrassed, I whipped myself around so my back was to him as he finished waltzing by.

I was so humiliated! Rocky totally didn't remember me and basically looked right through me. How could he forget me, I wondered? Aside from the fact that I didn't leave Tessa's side all night long, except for when I passed out drunk in one of his hundreds of bedrooms, he tried to feel me up, right before I threw up in his mom's matching, striped red and gold garbage can.

It was probably for the best anyway, I decided. I didn't want to be known as the naïve girl with the pretty eyes who couldn't hold her liquor.

I grabbed my books and headed to homeroom and seriously tried to forget that the previous weekend ever happened. It seemed as if Rocky already had.

• • •

The first part of Monday flew by in a blur. I still didn't feel one hundred percent. I wasn't sure if I was coming down with something or if I was still hungover. Could a person suffer from a hangover for two straight days, I wondered?

Besides suffering physically, I was preoccupied mentally. I couldn't get Michael out of my head. Why did he always inconveniently pop back into my life right after I successfully forgot about him?

I tried to visualize Michael and his facial expressions when we had spoken on the phone Sunday. I had barely ever been with him in person. I was beginning to forget what he even looked like. Michael's face was fading fast from my memory the same way my dad's did soon after he died. It was an overwhelmingly sad feeling.

I had a tough decision to make. I could bring Michael's face back into my mind by meeting him at his house on Saturday, or I could tell him "no" and let it continue to fade forever.

I was so confused. Michael had said that he would tell me all about himself if we met up. Did that include his mysterious illness and lack of school attendance? I was sick of playing games with him and wanted the truth, once and for all, even if I ended up walking away and saying good-bye to him for good.

I unloaded my books, grabbed my student ID card and slammed my locker shut. I had to think long and hard about what I was going to do. I was hoping that I'd be able to think straight during lunch and that Taylor and Erica would be done grilling me about my infamous night at Rocky's. The two of them didn't even know the half of it. I could just imagine how quickly their tongues would start wagging if they knew I had spent the entire night there. As I walked toward the lunchroom, I said a quick, silent prayer, hoping they'd never find out.

• • •

I slid my slice of cheese pizza onto the table and took a seat next to Taylor. I couldn't wait to eat. All of a sudden, I was starving.

"Hi guys," I said to them both as I unscrewed the top to my water bottle.

"Hey," Erica replied, so unenthusiastically, as if she had just lost her best friend. I knew that wasn't the case because Taylor was sitting right across from her. At least Erica said something. Taylor barely gave me a nod.

I motioned with my head over to Taylor. "What's with her," I asked Erica, not caring that Taylor was right next to me.

Erica looked at Taylor. Taylor gave a slight nod and Erica went for it. "Taylor and I discussed it and we don't think it's right for you to hang out with Tessa. She is our arch enemy after all."

"She's whose arch enemy?" I wanted to know.

"Ours. Mine and Taylor?"

"And why is that, by the way?" I was pissed. "What has she ever done to you two?"

Erica looked at me as if I had two heads. "She's a stuck-up bitch, a slut and has the worst reputation in the whole damn school."

"That's not what I asked," I replied calmly. I looked at Taylor, then across at Erica and pointed to them both. "What has she ever done to either of you?"

"It doesn't matter whether she's done anything to us personally or not. We just don't like her and cannot understand how you can associate with someone like her."

"I like her and she's not as bad as you think she is," I said as I leaned back and took a bite of my pizza.

Erica actually pointed her nose up in the air. "Well, neither Taylor nor I would ever lower our standards and hang out with Tessa Anderson."

"Don't worry about it," I said smugly as I took a sip of my water. "I highly doubt you'd ever have the chance, even if you wanted to."

"Oh, yeah," Erica asked indignantly, "and why is that?"

I started to seethe and couldn't control the words that were going to come out of me. I looked across the table and stared into Erica's equally hostile eyes. "She probably doesn't even know you two exist."

As Erica's face turned beet red and her eyes began to bulge, Taylor abruptly pushed back her chair and stood up. Erica thought better of it and followed suit. Without another word, they both grabbed their lunch trays and stormed away from the table, leaving me alone in the big, noisy cafeteria with my half-eaten piece of pizza.

• • •

As soon as I said it, I knew I had hit below the belt. But I was upset with Taylor and Erica and wanted to say the meanest thing I could think of. They were the one's who started it, I thought to myself, as I tried to justify my nastiness.

Taylor and Erica had it out for Tessa no matter what she did and I couldn't understand why. Maybe they were just jealous of her, especially because of all the male attention she always got. They also probably knew she would never give either of them the time of day and were mad about that. The more I thought about it, I still couldn't understand why Tessa befriended me. Probably because I was the new girl, had no friends and, therefore, no extra baggage.

As I finished my lunch, I tried to look at it from Erica and Taylor's perspective. Maybe they were just upset because they were afraid that Tessa was going to steal me away from them. Well, that wasn't going to happen and I would make it a point to tell the two of them as soon as possible, if they ever decided to talk to me again.

I picked up my cell to see if I had any new messages. I was sitting alone after all. I wanted it to look like I had some sort of communication going on with another human being, even if it was somewhere out in cyberspace.

Just then Tessa brushed by me with her lunch tray, stopped and backed up.

"Hey, there." Tessa looked around. "You look like a loser sitting there all by yourself."

I put my phone down and looked up at her. "Thanks."

She pushed her shiny, blonde hair away from her face. "Why don't you come and sit with me and the boys."

I was about to object, but figured why not. What did I have to lose, although I was nervous about hanging out with all the guys, especially because Rocky was there, too. I quickly thought back to the morning and concluded that either Rocky didn't recognize me from his party or didn't remember me at all. I was hoping it was both.

Impatiently, Tessa chomped on her gum. "So what's it gonna be?"

"Sure," I said, as I stood up, shocked by my newfound braveness. I grabbed my tray, joined Tessa, the boys and "The God" and never looked back.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-TWO

I was so unbelievably thankful that neither Erica nor Taylor was on the ferry ride back to the island after school. They were pretty pissed at me and wouldn't even look at me in the hallways for the rest of the day when I walked past them. It didn't help that they saw me move over to the popular jock table with Tessa after they abandoned me.

I know I shouldn't have said what I said to them, but who did they think they were telling me who I could or couldn't hang out with, whether it was with Tessa or anyone else? Plus, who designated them to be the holders of the moral compass by which everyone else around them was judged? I wasn't perfect and was sure neither of them was either. Taylor and Erica needed to lay off Tessa, especially if she wasn't bothering them.

Luckily, no one was sitting near me on the ferry. I wanted to relax and reflect on the day that was almost as crazy as the night at Rocky's.

Reluctantly I had followed Tessa over to Rocky and his entourage's exclusive VIP area. I sat there quietly while Tessa chatted it up with everyone. I didn't feel comfortable being at their table, but was glad that none of the guys were paying any attention to me. There were some senior girls at the other end of the table who seemed annoyed that Tessa and I, two lowly sophomores, were infringing on their territory. They didn't need to worry. I hadn't set my sights on any of the muscle heads. I couldn't speak for Tessa, though.

At one point, Rocky looked over Tessa and me who were in the middle of a conversation.

"Tessa? What up?"

Tessa looked at Rocky and smiled. "Not much, big guy. Rocky, you remember Willow, don't you?"

Rocky threw his fabulous smile my way and winked. "How could I forget?"

What!! My mouth hung open. I thought he had no recollection of me from the other night. Why else would he have completely ignored me in the hallway when I had seen him earlier that morning? Maybe his memory of my inconvenient vomiting and me came flooding back to him when I sat closer to him during lunch. Either way, I was totally mortified and glad that there was only a minute left in the period.

I didn't say a word, just gave Rocky my most confused, horrified-looking smile, as if I just caught a whiff of a dozen rotten and decaying, hardboiled eggs.

I could not wait to get out of there and had to stop myself from getting up and running away. Thankfully the bell rang and I didn't need an excuse anymore. Without saying good-bye to Tessa, I got up and bolted outta there, as fast as could, acting as if the whole lunchroom was on fire.

• • •

As soon as I got home, I went upstairs to sign onto MyWeb to check out the photos Taylor and Erica insisted existed of me at Rocky's party. I was sure I had looked through all of them, but apparently I hadn't.

I followed the link, again, through Tessa's home page. I clicked on the pictures, one at a time, and saw the same ones I had looked at the day before. I kept clicking and realized that there were some new ones I hadn't seen yet, but none of me.

Just when I thought I was at the end of all the new pictures, one popped up that made me gasp out loud. There I was, whooping it up and partying, right in the middle of the picture, pushing my boobs together, trying to give the illusion of bigger cleavage. The side of Rocky's face was in the foreground, and to the bottom of the picture. He was sticking his tongue out toward me to make it look like he was licking my left boob! I was mortified, especially because I didn't remember doing any of it.

I was terrified to click on the next picture, but thankful when I saw it was of Tessa smiling and posing with Josh. The next one made me gasp even louder. I was sitting on a barstool in Rocky's authentic looking English pub, my head thrown back, laughing hysterically as Rocky did a body shot, licking a dab of salt from between my genuine, adequate cleavage. I almost fell off my bed as I clicked back and forth between the two.

Luckily there were only two incriminating photos, but to me, that meant that there were two too many. No wonder Taylor and Erica insisted that I must have had a great time at Rocky's. From the pictures, it sure looked like I did. Too bad I couldn't recall any of it, but the more I thought about it, the more I was actually grateful that I couldn't.

• • •

The rest of the week passed without much incident. I couldn't stand drama of any sort, so I chose to keep to myself. I tried my best to steer clear of Tessa, Taylor, Erica and even "The God," preferring the quiet and calmness that accompanied the life of a hermit, which I had become.

All I did was go to school, go home, eat dinner, do my homework, go to bed and repeat it all the very next day. I wouldn't answer any texts, from anybody. My life felt similar to when I first moved to Pike's and had no option but to lead a boring existence. The fact that I now had a choice was empowering, but I wanted to concentrate on my schoolwork and try to reach a decision as to whether or not I was going to meet up with Michael on Saturday.

I was so torn about it. Part of me wanted to see him and spend time with him since I genuinely enjoyed talking to him. All we seemed to do was laugh when we were on the phone together. But the other part of me was scared because of Michael's elusiveness, of not being able to understand anything about him.

I didn't want to set myself up, as I had before, by letting my guard down and opening up, only to have him suddenly disappear from my life again. I guess deep down I was scared, not of what I had to gain, but of what I had to lose. I couldn't bear the thought of loving someone and losing them. I had already done it once in my life and that had been enough. I knew I wouldn't be able to survive it ever again.

I found myself unusually tired for a Thursday night. My mom and Brian went out for an early dinner right after school because they both needed to attend a meeting at the education department in town.

My mom left money for James and me, so we ordered a pizza. I headed back to my room right after I ate and decided I would try and go to sleep early. With my homework done, I put on my only pair of warm and fuzzy feety pajamas, the pair that made me feel like a little girl again.

I climbed under the pile of covers, turned off the light and got all snug in my bed. I tried to think happy thoughts, not about Michael or our potential rendezvous. I had to forget about him entirely and clear my head so I could get a peaceful night's sleep.

I must have fallen asleep rather quickly. I remember feeling like I was being lifted off of my bed, while still in a deep sleep, as though someone were carrying me. Slowly I opened my eyes and found myself staring into my father's adoring face.

I was surprised and looked around us. My father was carrying me up a steep flight of stairs, a set of stairs that seemed to have no ending. There was nothing else around us, except blue skies and white clouds. I looked back lovingly at my father and he spoke to me without words, just thoughts. He told me he loved me and always would, to not be afraid of love and that he was always with me even if I didn't know it.

I smiled at him and told him I loved him, too. I touched the side of his soft cheek as we as ascended the staircase and used my fingertips to trace the rest of his face so I would never forget it.

He kept smiling at me and his blue eyes twinkled like never before. I smiled back. I didn't want him to stop carrying me. I wanted to remain in his arms forever.

Finally we reached the top of the stairs and came upon a pure white bed, surrounded with white, fluffy pillows and a soft, white lace blanket.

He bent over to lay me on top of the welcoming bed, but I quickly protested. "No," I shouted. I wanted to stay with him. He let me know that wasn't possible, said that we both still had more work to do, his in heaven, and mine on Earth.

He lay me down as gently as he could, while I kicked and screamed and cried. He leaned over and kissed my forehead as I objected and writhed on top of the celestial bed. It was no use. My father turned away and descended the steep stairs and left me all alone as I held out my arms toward him. I continued to cry out to him, to come back, to never leave me again as a torrent of tears streamed down my face.

I suddenly bolted upright, looked around my room and realized that I'd been dreaming. I touched my face and found it wet with tears. It took me a moment to stop crying. I lay back down and tried to make sense of it all. As I relived the dream, I felt that it was both one of the best dreams I had ever had, but also one of the worst. My dear father had come back into my life so unexpectedly and left it, again, just as abruptly.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-THREE

I dreaded going to school on Friday. I was exhausted because I didn't sleep well at all. I tossed and turned the entire night as I tried to find my way back into my dream, onto that peaceful, heavenly staircase with my father. I wanted to see him again, to be with him, to feel his arms protectively wrapped around me.

Instead my alarm buzzed and I slowly rose to turn it off. I climbed back into bed and tried to decipher whether it was only a dream, and nothing more, or if my dad was trying to communicate with me through it.

It felt so real to me, _he_ felt so real. I desperately wanted to go back to sleep so I could be with my dad again. It hit me hard right then how much I truly missed him. I couldn't help it. I started to cry. I grabbed my pillow and hugged it tightly. Even though he had died only five years prior, it felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime since anyone called me Willie.

I contemplated lying and telling my mom that I didn't feel well. My throat was kind of sore and my heart ached, so I wouldn't be lying completely. I quickly realized I had no choice but to go to school. I had a huge geometry test that I had spent a lot of time studying for. I didn't want to forget everything and have to study all over again for the make-up on Monday.

I scrambled out of bed when I saw how late it was and hurried so I wouldn't have to hear it. I did anyway.

"Willow!" my mom screamed from the bottom of the stairs. "Hurry up!"

I opened my door and yelled back. "Coming!"

I threw on the closest pieces of clothing I could grab, a stained sweatshirt and a dirty pair of jeans, which were strewn on my bedroom floor. I barely brushed my teeth or hair and didn't attempt to put on any makeup. I never got ready so fast in my entire life.

As I grabbed my hobo book bag, I caught a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror. At first I thought there was a stranger in my room with me and then slowly realized the sad truth that it was I, looking more like a homeless person than an unhappy, over-achieving, sleep-deprived teen.

• • •

Tessa wasn't in homeroom and I was glad because I didn't want to talk to her or anyone. I caught a few people looking at me strangely, probably because I looked so scary. I didn't care. I didn't want to be bothered anyway and figured my new look could only contribute to the new hermit image I was trying to convey.

I finished my math test and felt pretty good about it. I got at least an A, I felt, or perhaps even better because I knew the answer to the bonus questions, too.

As I waited while the rest of the class finished up, Erica, who sat beside me, slipped me a tiny note. I quickly grabbed it and opened it up. She wrote, "Just to let you know, some of the senior girls are referring to you and Tessa not as sophomores, but as soph-whore-mores."

I was shocked and totally speechless. I couldn't have uttered a single word, even if I had wanted to, because we were still in the middle of an exam.

I glanced at Erica and she shot me her smug, self-righteous smile, as if I was getting exactly what I deserved.

I crumpled up the little piece of paper and threw it back at her. I didn't care what other girls were saying about me. I knew it wasn't true. I had no desire to hook up with any of the senior boys and had sat at their "coveted" lunch table only once.

I knew most of the girls in the school didn't like Tessa and that she had a bad reputation in general. I shouldn't have been lumped in with her simply because I was friends with her.

Tessa had her own mind, as did I, and was completely her own person. Even so, I thought back to what my mom used to say when referring to some of our oddball, close-knit neighbors from our old neighborhood, "Birds of a feather, flock together."

But that didn't mean that I was totally like Tessa because we hung out together a few times. If anything, the only thing that I felt that we had in common was that we both seemed to long for female friendships. I shouldn't be faulted for wanting a best friend, or any friend at all, for that matter.

The bell rang and I tried to race out of there so I could avoid any further interactions with the condescending Erica. She was quicker than I thought and caught me right beyond the doorway. She tugged on my sleeve and stood with her hand on her hip.

"Willow, I only told you that for your own good. I don't want people talking about you and saying lies about you because Taylor and I know the kind of person you really are."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I know you mean well, Erica, but right now my reputation and what 'senior girls' are calling me are the least of my problems."

I turned and walked off toward my last class of the day and decided that, at the very least, I would definitely have given Erica an "A+" for effort.

• • •

I finally got home after a long, tiring day. All I could think about was getting back into bed so I could take a much-needed power nap. I put on a clean pair of sweats and finally brushed my teeth.

On the ferry ride back to Pike's, I had resolved to meet up with Michael. I had thought very long and very hard about it and decided I had nothing to lose. Worst case was that Michael wouldn't show up and I'd end up wasting money on the taxi ride over. It was still too cold to walk or ride my bike. I was very curious and figured I would at least find out where his family's summerhouse was located.

As I lay in bed, I thought about how it would be when I saw Michael the very next day. Would he look the same? Would he be thinner or paler? Would I feel anything at all toward him when I looked at him for the very first time in a long time?

I drifted off, even as a million different scenarios raced through my brain. I had finally fallen asleep when my cell phone rang and woke me. I grabbed it and read the phone number. I did not recognize it and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Willow, it's Brian Roberts. How are you?"

I sat up, somewhat panicked. Brian had never called me on my cell phone before. "Fine. Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine. Listen," he said, "as you know, your mother's birthday is in a couple of weeks and I wanted to surprise her and take her to a spa overnight, so she can get a massage and relax and—"

I was tired, impatient and interrupted him. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Would you be willing to stay home and watch James overnight?"

"Yeah, I guess." I always babysat, I thought to myself. Why was he asking my permission this time? Was it because it was for more than just a few hours?

"Great! But you're gonna have to stay home, _overnight_ , Willow, all night long."

I wasn't deaf. "I know. You already said that."

"You can't sneak out, stay out all night, and then sneak back in, if you know what I mean. James cannot be left alone and I don't want your mother to have to worry one second while we're away. I want this to be a trip where she's relaxed and completely stress-free."

What was Brian saying to me? "Why would I sneak out and stay out all night?" I asked.

"Let's just say," Brian responded, "unlike your mother," he paused for effect, "I'm a very light sleeper."

Oh, I thought to myself. I got it. Brian must have heard me sneak back in the night of Rocky's "sleepover" because he had ended up bunking over at our house. And it was obvious he didn't tell my mom because I would have definitely been grounded for it. I had to give Mr. Brian Roberts credit; he kept a secret from my mother.

"Not a problem," I said. "Just let me know when."

"Well, even though your mom's birthday is in two weeks, I wanted to catch her off guard and take her away sooner."

"Sure. When?"

"Tomorrow night."

What!? I wanted to yell. Tomorrow night, of all nights? Was he kidding me?

"When would you guys leave?"

"I booked the spa for noon, so we'll have to leave here relatively early, say nine or ten."

I sighed, fell back onto my pillow and couldn't believe it. So much for meeting up with Michael.

"Does that work for you?" Brian wanted to know.

"Yeah. I guess," I mumbled.

"Fantastic, Willow, and thank you. Remember, mums the word!" Brian bellowed before hanging up.

I stared at my ceiling and couldn't believe my luck. What would I tell Michael? Should I cancel the plans altogether or have him come to my house instead? No. I could never do that. My brother had such a big mouth and would tell my mother that I had a boy over the minute she got back home.

As I lay there in disbelief, I decided there was nothing I could really do except try to come up with a solution of how I could do both: see Michael and stay with James. In the meantime, I wanted to close my eyes and seek the sleep that somehow evaded me.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-FOUR

I actually slept for more than fifteen hours straight, only waking when my mom asked me if I wanted some dinner.

"No thanks," I managed, before I rolled over and dozed until the next morning. I guess I really was tired after all. I felt good when I finally woke, renewed and happy, too. Then reality hit and I remembered that I still hadn't thought of a solution to my problem about how I was going to spend time with Michael and stay home with my brother.

The only way I could accomplish both, I concluded, was if I briefly met up with Michael and, once again, bribed James with the latest and greatest video game. I was starting to run out of money having to buy all those pricey CDs, along with my brother's silence.

I heard someone walking down the hallway toward the bathroom. The door closed and the shower was turned on. It must be my mother, 'cause James never would have gotten up this early to clean up. I wondered what the age was when a boy put cleanliness at the top of his priority list. I wasn't going to hold my breath when it came to my brother. My mother had to beg or threaten him with banishment from gaming if he refused to use soap and water.

I was thinking that seven o'clock was early, even for my mom to be awake on a Saturday. Then I realized why. My mother had to get ready for Brian. I wondered what he told her and how he would convince her to stay away overnight.

My mom never would have agreed to it in the past, but she was changing lately right before my eyes. James and I seemed less and less of a priority to her. Once again, I missed my dad, knowing he would never leave my brother or me alone for a day, let alone the whole night. My dad genuinely enjoyed being with us kids and it was so tragic that he couldn't see us growing up, as he would have loved to. Or could he?

I lay in bed, read a book and heard the doorbell ring promptly at nine o'clock. I heard my mother walk down the stairs, open the door and greet Brian.

There was some muffled conversation before my mother exclaimed, "Oh, Brian! How could you?"

My mother raced up the stairs and breezed into my room. She acted like a love-struck teenager walking on air. "Willow, I have a big favor to ask of you."

I lowered my book. "Yeah, it's okay. Brian already asked me." I forced my phoniest smile. "Have fun."

"I will. Thank you dear," she said before she floated out of my room and back downstairs to her date. I wanted to gag, but quickly realized I hadn't eaten a thing in forever. All of a sudden I was starving and decided to head downstairs in search of food once my mother's knight in shining armor whisked her away from the castle for good.

• • •

I hung around the house and didn't do much after my mother and Brian left. I finished a book I was reading and surfed MyWeb for quite a while. Mainly, I was preoccupied thinking about my meeting with Michael. I was both nervous and excited. I tried not to think about five o'clock, but found that the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did!

After lunch, I took a shower and used my favorite shower gel. I conditioned my hair and was going to blow it dry and straighten it. I wanted to take my time and look my best. When I thought about it, I wondered why I cared so much about how I looked and realized it said a lot about how I really felt about Michael.

I cranked up the music in my room, as I carefully applied my makeup; not too little, not too much. I wanted to look pretty and natural. My cell phone vibrated on the dresser next to me. I saw that it was Tessa and debated whether or not to pick up. I decided to answer it since I had deliberately avoided her all week long. It was the weekend and I was feeling good. I lowered the music.

"Hello."

"Hey, loser! Whaccha doin'?" I could tell she was smoking.

"Nothing. What about you?" I felt like I needed to ask, even though I didn't really care.

"Just deciding what to wear over to Connor's tonight. He's having a big bash. Wanna come?"

Oh my God! First a party at Rocky's and now at Connor's? Two parties in one week! What would Erica and Taylor think now? As tempted as I was, I already had plans, but I didn't want anyone to know about them, especially Tessa.

"Sorry, I can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I gotta stay home with my brother. My mom is out of town for the night and I cannot leave him. At all."

"C'mon. Just for a little bit. You've left him before."

I didn't want to go into the whole explanation of how Brian had slept over and heard me return from the all-nighter at Rocky's. "Sorry. Not happening. Maybe another time."

"It's your loss."

"Well, try to have fun without me."

"Don't you worry," Tessa said as she took a drag of her cigarette, "I'm sure I will."

We hung up. I wished I had asked Tessa what she saw in Connor Finch. Taylor had to have had vision problems, too, because she also thought he was cute. Connor was tall and gangly with a head-full of thick, bright orange hair. Tessa probably liked him because he was on the football and the hockey teams. Like his best friend, Rocky, he was a super jock.

I could tell that, even though Tessa and Connor weren't an official item, they still had the hots for each other, ever since the notorious romp in his backseat. I'm sure Tessa would have hooked up with Connor at Rocky's if he had been there, but he had been home sick.

I finished doing my makeup and hair and was quite happy with the results. I glanced at the clock. It was four. I slipped on my favorite LE jeans and a pretty pink sweater. I doused myself in my favorite perfume and lastly put on a cute pair of silver hoop earrings.

I grabbed my North Face and purse and felt completely ready for my rendezvous. Even so, I crossed my fingers as I headed down the stairs, knowing that I still had to barter with my brother.

• • •

As I searched for the directions on the seat next to me, I almost drove off the road. I found them and read them; left onto Greenacre and right on Seaview. I wasn't sure how to turn on the headlights or if I even needed them yet. It was dusk and getting darker by the minute. I decided that I should.

I had to concentrate on the road and look for street signs. Driving a couple of miles was proving to be a challenge, but convincing my brother to stay home without me, a piece of cake.

I couldn't believe that I was actually driving my mother's car, any car, for that matter, because I had never driven before. Tessa had done it so many times, I figured how difficult could it be. Plus, I didn't want to spend the money on a taxi as originally planned, especially because my mom wasn't home and would never find out anyway.

I had to carefully sneak the car keys off the hook by the front door so James wouldn't know what I was doing. When I had looked back behind me before I left, there sat my brother, oblivious and preoccupied as usual.

I had one last right turn to make, which put me onto Shoreline Drive. I had to follow it for two miles before reaching my destination, or was it my destiny? I was getting more and more nervous by the second, nervous about seeing Michael almost forgetting that, technically, I had stolen a car.

I drove slowly and carefully. The clock on the dashboard read 4:55. I had less than a mile to go and five minutes until the meeting. I was tempted to make a U-turn and head back home. I started to shake, anxious about being with Michael alone, at his house, with no one else around. What would we say to each other? How would I feel being near him?

The mailbox to the left of me was clearly marked "161." I knew this was the driveway that would lead up to the house where Michael was waiting for me. I put my left signal on, but couldn't bring myself to turn the wheel. I sat there in the middle of the road until a car horn blared from behind me and snapped me out of my daze.

I had no choice but to pull up the drive and head toward the house. I slowly snaked up the driveway and could make out the silhouette of a very large home at the top.

There were no other cars in the driveway, except mine, and the house was completely pitch black. It seemed like not another soul was there, but I knew I had the right house for sure. Then it hit me. What if Michael hadn't even shown up? What if I drove all this way, like an idiot, and he decided not to come after all? That wouldn't be so unusual for him. I felt like a complete fool.

I stopped the car, put it in reverse and started to turn it around. I wanted to flee the scene and get outta there as fast as I could. Before I turned the car completely around, I glanced behind me, once last time, toward the dark and lonely dwelling.

Just then the front porch light flicked on and someone walked out the door. I had to strain to see who it was. The person waved their arms wildly and motioned for me to stop. I put the car in park, rolled down the window and stuck my head out so I could see better. Michael stood on the front stoop and smiled that heart-melting smile at me. I smiled back. He wasn't a "no-show" after all.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-FIVE

I parked the car, right where it was and turned off the engine. This was it. There was no turning back. Michael saw I was there and I had no choice but to go up to the house and meet him.

I stepped out of the Jeep and thought I would faint. My legs were shaky and I had to hold onto the car door for support. Michael walked off the porch and down the walkway. I was so nervous and had so many butterflies in my stomach; it actually felt like a flock of birds.

Michael smiled as he walked toward me. I did, too. I was genuinely happy to see him.

"You found it!"

"Yeah, it wasn't too hard. I'm beginning to realize it would almost be impossible to get lost on this tiny island."

Michael stood next to me and stared at my face. Finally he spoke. "I guess wishing on a star worked after all."

I was confused. "Huh?"

"I wished it upon a star that you would come here," Michael beamed, "and you did."

It was cold outside and, instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself. "Can we go inside?"

Michael continued to study my face before he answered. "I just want to gaze upon your beauty under the moonlit sky."

Embarrassed, I looked away.

"Don't be embarrassed." He read my mind. "It's true."

I looked into Michael's eyes. They were still the same expressive eyes as before, both intense and sensitive. He looked the same since the last time I saw him except that his thick, long hair was clipped very short, almost a buzz cut. Because his locks no longer shrouded his face, I could really see his features, with his perfect nose, full lips and cute little dimpled chin. His face wasn't as pale as it had been. His cheeks had a nice, rosy color to them.

Michael looked older than the last time I saw him, more mature, actually. If it was even possible, he was more handsome, now, than he had ever been.

The longer I stared at him, the more anxious I got and he knew it. "C'mon. Let's go inside."

Michael Cooper gently took my hand and led me up his driveway, into his house and, finally, into his life.

• • •

Michael's summerhouse was as impressive as Tessa's. I couldn't believe that to some people, these were just part-time homes. I would give anything to live in a place like this, year round. If I did, I was sure I would never leave the premises, just stay home all day long and soak up the beauty of my surroundings.

Michael led me past the expansive foyer and into a very large family room situated at the back of the house. The house was beautifully decorated, much more elegant than Tessa's house with its gold-leafed mirrors and gilded framed portraits. A huge painting of hunters on horseback, flanked by crystal sconces, hung from above the ornate stone fireplace mantel.

Michael walked over to the wall and adjusted something. "I'll turn up the heat, so you can warm up."

"Thanks."

Michael came over to me and stood very close. "Would you like something to drink?"

Nervously, I looked away. "Sure. Whatta ya' got?"

Michael walked toward the refrigerator and opened it. I followed. It was completely bare except for a few cans of soda and two jugs of water.

"Sorry it's so empty. My mom will stock it again once we come back for the summer."

I wondered how Michael was able to meet me at his house, on the island, on a Saturday, but didn't dare ask. He had gotten mad at me back at Thanksgiving when I told him he needed to let his parents know he was safe. He was a big boy, I figured. It wasn't up to me to worry whether or not his parents knew where he was. I was one to talk, anyway. I stole my mom's car and left my brother home alone while my mother was out of town. All of a sudden I regretted meeting him at his house. What had I been thinking?

Michael must have sensed my hesitancy and walked over to me. He took one of my hands and stared at me.

"What's wrong, Willow? Don't you want to be here?"

I didn't know what to say. "Yeah, I guess," I stammered. "It's just that I left my brother, James, home alone and I'm feeling guilty about it."

"Why don't you call him and make sure he's alright?"

"I suppose."

I dialed our home number and called James. He picked up. I could tell he was annoyed. "What?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Of course it is."

"Good. I'll be home soon."

No response.

"James? Are you there?"

The little brat had hung up.

Michael smiled and laughed mischievously. "Good thing you were worried about him."

I couldn't help myself and giggled, too. "What about that drink?"

• • •

Michael and I sat in his family room, sipping soda, with the television on, but muted. He sat next to me and began by stating the most important sentence he could have.

"Go ahead, Willow. Ask me anything you want. Anything. From now on, my life is an open book to you."

Wow! He caught me off guard. Of course I had a million questions floating around in my head, but wasn't able to grab hold of a single one of them.

"Um..." I studied Michael's face and the way he looked at me so intensely. Did I really need to know his deep dark secrets? Would it change the way I felt about him after all?

I looked down, ashamed of the way I had badgered him in the past about not knowing anything about him or his life. And here he was, opening up his soul to me and I couldn't think of one simple question.

"I don't know what to ask."

"Well, let me start by telling you why I don't attend school on a regular basis," Michael grinned to lighten the mood, "actually, why I don't attend school at all.

"Have you ever heard of CF?" he asked.

I shook my head and faced him.

"CF stands for Cystic Fibrosis. It's a disease where a thick, sticky sort of mucus clogs the lungs and digestive system of the people affected with it."

Almost reflexively, Michael turned to cough.

He stared back at me. "And I'm one of those people."

I shook my head, confused. "I don't understand. Why can't you go to school?"

"Because most of the time, I'm too sick or too weak to go. I get infections very easily in my lungs, which makes it difficult for me to breathe.

"It's better if I'm not around a lot of other people either," Michael looked away, "who might be contagious."

Now I understood why he never was in school and appeared sickly most of the time. But tonight, he looked great, healthier than ever before.

"Isn't there any medication you can take for it?"

"Yes, I take meds, plus I do daily exercises to loosen and expel the mucus from my lungs."

"How'd you get it?"

Michael nervously rubbed his hands together. "I inherited it from my parents. Even though neither of them have the disease, both of them are carriers."

Michael became solemn and continued. "That's why my younger brother is adopted. My parents didn't want to take the chance and give another child the recessive gene because..." Michael looked down, "... there is no cure."

I didn't know what to say. How should I respond when a boy I like tells me he is very ill with a disease that makes him homebound, a disease that prevents him from being in the presence of other people, a disease for which there is no cure?

"I'm sorry to hear that," was all I could muster.

Michael slapped his thighs and became energized. "So that's why I'm never in school and so mysterious, or weird, depending how you look at it."

Michael quickly smiled and became serious. "Believe me, I wish I could lead a boring life like you guys and go to Portland High everyday."

"How do you learn anything, then?"

"I have tutors come to my house, plus I do most of my schoolwork online."

Michael looked around the big room. "We actually used to live in this house full-time until I got too sick to stay here. We had to buy another house on the mainland so I could be near a special CF care center in Portland."

I was speechless.

"I know. It sucks, but this has been my life for sixteen years and I'm used to it. You just gotta learn to deal with it." Michael shrugged. "I don't have a choice."

Even though most of my questions had been answered, I was more confused than ever.

I looked into Michael's eyes and spoke softly. "Why did you invite me here?"

"To get to know you. From the moment I first saw you, Willow, I knew there was something special about you. I wasn't sure what it was, but I just knew, in my heart, that I needed to learn all I could about you."

I didn't know what to say and was, once again, saved by the bell, the bell from my cell phone. I saw that it was my brother, so I answered.

"Hey, James! What's up?"

He sounded frantic. "I think the house is on fire."

"What!" I jumped up and screamed. "What do you mean you _think_ it's on fire!?"

"I made some popcorn and it burned in the microwave and there's smoke everywhere." James started coughing.

"Are there any flames?"

"No, just smoke."

"Open all the windows and doors and get outta there. Fast! I'll be right home."

"Should I call the fire department?" he asked.

"Are there any flames at all?"

"No."

"Then don't. Just grab a coat and wait outside for me. As long as there isn't a fire, you just need to air out the house."

"Okay," James said before hanging up.

I shook my head and looked at Michael. "Unbelievable!"

Michael laughed. "The kid really knows how to kill a mood."

"I gotta go."

"I know," he said and quickly walked me to the front door.

We stood on the porch and I looked up into Michael's eyes, eyes that pierced my soul. I looked away, too afraid that he could read my mind, and realize just how much I wanted to stay. He gently held my chin and forced me to look at him again.

Michael leaned in close to me and brushed his forehead with mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face. More butterflies in my stomach.

He whispered, "'Til then."

I turned and ran down the cobblestone walkway and drove off into the night, as Michael stood alone on the stoop, under the moonlit sky, watching me and, most likely, wishing upon a star.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-SIX

I raced home and somehow knew instinctively how to get back without looking at the directions. When I pulled up to the house, I immediately saw James, bundled up and standing near the open front door. I turned into the driveway and made sure to put the car in the same spot my mother always parked it. I got out and joined my brother.

James's big blue eyes got bigger. "Hey, whatta ya doing driving mom's car?"

"Don't worry about me driving. Just be thankful that the house didn't burn to the ground."

We walked inside and, even though the smoke had cleared, I immediately caught a whiff of the pungent scent of burnt popcorn. James and I shut all the windows and I walked into the kitchen to close the back door. The inside of the microwave was black and a charred bag of popcorn sat inside it. James was behind me.

"What the heck happened?"

James shrugged. "I tried to make popcorn like I always do, but I think I set the time wrong and walked away and then I smelled the smoke and ran in here and opened the microwave and smoke kept pouring out."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not even allowed to eat or drink when I leave you. Why did you think you could make popcorn?"

James looked down and rubbed his belly. "I was hungry and didn't know when you'd be coming back."

I wanted to be mad at my brother, but I actually felt sorry for him. I knew I shouldn't have left him.

"I'll make you something else to eat. What do you want?"

James looked up at me and grinned. "Peanut butter sandwich, no crust?"

"Fine. Give me a minute to try and clean this microwave first."

"Kay," James said and turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, James. Do not tell mom about me driving because if you do, I will take each and every video game you've ever owned and make my own special bonfire with them out back."

James stared at me.

"Understand?" I asked.

"Yeah," James answered before he scurried out of the kitchen and into the family room.

I grabbed a roll of paper toweling, some cleaning spray and braced myself for a stinky and dirty job.

• • •

The mess in the microwave proved to be a time consuming task. I took a break and made my brother his sandwich before resuming my mission. I had to get it as clean as before so my mother wouldn't ask me what had happened. I didn't want to have to lie to her and certainly didn't want her to ask James why the white microwave suddenly turned black. He might forget about my threat and tell her the whole story from me leaving him alone to me stealing her car.

My mother actually called while I was making James's sandwich. She wanted to check in and see how we were doing.

"Everything is fine," I reassured her.

"Alright, dear. Brian and I will be home sometime tomorrow morning."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye, Willow."

Except for the interruption by my mother, all I could think about, as I scrubbed and scrubbed, was my brief meeting with Michael. I kept reliving our last moment on the front porch, right before I left, when his face was close to mine. He looked like a man now, so handsome and strong under the illuminated sky. I wanted to remember what it felt like because, until he spoke, I thought he might kiss me.

The butterflies came rushing back in, just from the memory of being with him. Why did I have such strong feelings for Michael? I had never felt this way with any other boy before.

I felt saddened by his admission about his disease. I didn't know anything about Cystic Fibrosis and decided I would look it up on the Internet as soon as I was done with the microwave. It made complete sense why Michael missed so much school and looked sickly sometimes. Did having the disease mean that he would die at an early age, too? I hoped not and needed to do some research.

I was just about done cleaning up when my cell phone beeped, telling me I had a new text. I put down the paper towel roll and saw that it was from Michael. I opened the text and read, "Star light, star bright, last star I saw tonight, was the one shining deep from within your enchanting eyes."

I smiled to myself, but didn't know what to respond. I wasn't poetic like Michael, so I decided to send back a smiley face instead.

After my final inspection of the spotless microwave, I turned off the lights in the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room where I would try to learn all I could about Michael Cooper and how he lived his life with an incurable disease.

• • •

I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep and, at first, thought I was dreaming. The incessant ringing of the doorbell eventually woke me. I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 A.M.

I sat up and tried to make sense of what day it was. I remembered it was Saturday night, actually early Sunday morning and that my mom was away. Who the heck would be ringing the doorbell in the middle of the night?

I was afraid to go downstairs and check. I climbed out of my bed and crept into the hallway. I passed James's bedroom, peeked inside and saw that he was fast asleep. The doorbell chimed again. I went into my mother's room, which had a window that faced the front of the house.

Slowly I pushed aside her curtain to peer outside. I looked onto the driveway and saw another vehicle parked behind my mom's, but didn't recognize it. I looked down toward the front door and could not see anybody at first. Just then the person who was ringing the bell stopped and walked away.

Even in the darkness I could tell it was Tessa. I flung open the bedroom window and yelled down to her as she reached her car.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

Tessa stopped, turned and looked for the source of my voice. She couldn't find me.

"Up here!" I shouted and waved.

She finally spotted me. "Open the damn door! I'm freezing my ass off out here!"

• • •

I closed the family room door tightly behind us.

"Shhh. My brother's sleeping."

"Sorry." Tessa tried to whisper. Immediately I smelled alcohol on Tessa's breath and realized she was very drunk.

"Why are you here?"

"'Cause Connor and I got in a fight and I told him to go screw himself."

"Again, why are you here?"

Tessa fished through her bag and took out her pack of cigarettes. She tried to light one. I snatched the lighter from her hand.

"I don't think so," I said. I didn't want to have to deal with another fire. One per night was enough for me.

"So I told my mom I was sleeping at your house, but I was really going to spend the night at Connor's, but he and I got into a huge fight and he kicked me out of his stupid party."

Tessa plopped down on the couch. "Can I crash?"

I hesitated, but relented. "I guess."

Where else was Tessa going to go? She shouldn't have even been driving in the first place. I didn't want her to kill herself or another innocent person while out on the road.

"You might want to come upstairs, though, 'cause my brother gets up very early in the morning and turns on the television down here."

Tessa struggled to stand. "Sounds good to me."

Tessa grabbed her purse, followed me upstairs and made my crazy night even crazier.

• • •

Thank God I had a queen-sized bed. It made sleepovers tolerable, especially the ones with drunken guests.

I gave Tessa an extra pillow and tried to get comfortable on mine. I was very tired and wanted to go back to sleep, but all Tessa wanted to do was talk.

"You really should have come to Connor's. The party was really rockin' until he acted like a dick to me."

"I told you I had to stay here with my brother."

"I know. That's why I came here to crash. I remembered your mom was away."

Tessa elbowed me. "Didn't you have fun at Rocky's last weekend?"

"I guess," was all I was willing to tell her. I opted to leave out the groping and throwing up parts.

"Yeah. Rocky's parents are really cool, unlike Connor's. The only reason he had a party was 'cause his parents are away... like your mom."

Tessa turned to me and smiled, proud of herself, for making such an obvious comparison. I wanted to shove a breath mint in her mouth. She smelled like a brewery.

"The winter always sucks because we can't party outside at the beach like we do in the summer. The summers are amazing on the island, but the winters suck."

Tessa flung her arm and whacked me in the head.

"Ow!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I answered. I didn't want to engage her in conversation anymore. I wanted to sleep.

Tessa closed her eyes, but spoke anyway, actually slurred. "Did you know that some girls in school call us soph-whore-mores?"

"Yeah. I heard."

"They're just jealous." Tessa opened her eyes. "Don't you think they're jealous, Willow?"

"I have no idea and don't really care."

"Well, I think they're jealous cuz we're prettier than them."

Tessa turned toward me and curled up on her side. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

I wanted her to stop talking and stop asking me inane questions. I stared at the ceiling and answered robotically.

"Yes, Tessa, I think you're pretty. Can we go to sleep now, please?"

Tessa reached out and touched the bottom of my hair. "Well, I think you're pretty, too, Willow."

"Great! Now that we've established that we're both so damn pretty, can we go to sleep?"

I waited for Tessa to respond, but she didn't. The next thing I knew, Tessa began to breathe deeply, and then started to snore loudly.

I slowly removed Tessa's hand from my pillow and watched as she stirred and quickly fell back to sleep. I rolled over and turned off the light. I couldn't believe what was happening. What I thought had been an even crazier night, turned out to be the craziest one ever.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-SEVEN

When I finally woke up the next morning, I looked next to me and saw that the bed was empty. Did Tessa really spend the night or had I been dreaming? I grabbed the other pillow and smelled it. I caught the scent of Tessa's perfume along with the subtle hint of cigarette smoke. I knew then that it hadn't been a dream. But where was she?

I got out of bed and searched the upstairs. No sign of her. I walked into my mom's room and looked out her front window. Tessa's car was gone.

I went back to bed and thought about the events from the night before; meeting up with Michael, his confession about his illness, my brother almost burning down the house and Tessa's unexpected, late-night visit. I smiled to myself. I couldn't help it. I couldn't believe how much madness had taken place in just one evening.

I could hear my brother downstairs slaying his virtual dragons. I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on to see if I had any new messages. There was one from Tessa that she had sent about an hour earlier. It read: "Thanks for the bed. I owe you."

I was about to text her back, when I heard the front door slam shut followed by my mother's voice.

"Willow? James? Where are you two?"

I heard James say something in response while I hopped out of bed and headed downstairs.

I joined James and my mother in the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepy head," my mom greeted me.

"Morning," I said as I folded my arms and leaned up against the counter.

As my mom unpacked bags of groceries, she crinkled up her nose. "Why does it smell awful in here, like burnt popcorn?"

"Cuz I burnt some last—" James started, until I elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Owww!" James screamed.

My mother turned, alarmed. Luckily she had been busy putting away food and didn't notice. "What's wrong, James?"

"Nothing. He's fine," I quickly said as I ruffled his already messy hair. "I burned popcorn last night by mistake while I was making it for James. Sorry."

I smiled. She smiled back. "It's okay, dear."

"Did you have a nice time?" I asked, even though I didn't care. I cared more about Tessa's stupid squabble with Connor than I did about my mom's night away with her beau.

My mother stopped her unpacking and faced my brother and me. "I, I mean, we had a great time."

She had on a grin from ear to ear and held out her left hand toward us. "Do you notice anything different?" my mother asked as her eyes darted back and forth between my brother and me.

James and I looked at each other, confused. Was our mother losing it? Notice what?

This time she shook her hand wildly in our faces. "Look you two! I'm engaged!"

Engaged! Was she kidding?! The rock on her finger told me she wasn't kidding, but how could she be engaged to another man, a man other than my father? I was blown away and it must have shown on my face.

My mother's genuine joy turned to hurt. "Aren't you happy for me, Willow?"

I could see the pain in her eyes, but wasn't fazed. "How can you be engaged to a man, who you've only known for what, two months?"

"I have known Brian since we moved here, Willow. We've been working together at the school since the fall."

I responded with enough sarcasm for anyone else who'd ever been wronged. "Oh, excuse me. You've known him for a whole five months."

My mother was indignant. "Why can't you just be happy for me once, young lady?"

"Happy for you? Happy for you?" I snapped incredulously. "How can you just forget about Daddy like that? Didn't he mean anything to you?"

"Of course he did, but he's gone, Willow, and you need to accept that. Just because I've fallen in love with another man doesn't mean that I didn't love your father, too."

All the anger and frustration that had built up inside of me for so long finally exploded.

I pointed at my mother and screamed, "You're a liar. You never loved Daddy, because if you did, you would never think of marrying any one else!"

I ran from the kitchen and up the stairs and as I ran, I could faintly hear my mother calling after me. Her voice was muffled by a very loud, guttural sound and I realized when I reached the safety of my room that the sound was coming from deep inside me. At that very moment, the sound of my own sobs drowned out my mother's voice and all the other noises in the entire world.

• • •

The whole week at school was both a blur and rather uneventful. I had a ton of homework and quizzes in almost every class, almost everyday, it seemed. That's all I did; study, do homework and do it all over again.

I was so thankful it was Friday. I sat as close to the heater as I could on the ferry ride into school. I saw Taylor and Erica at the other end of the boat, but they didn't sit near me. I really didn't care. I needed a break, from school, from them, from everyone, but I didn't really want to stick around my house over the weekend either. Because I had stayed home with James overnight, my mom told me I could go out on Saturday night if I wanted. She would stay home and babysit and made no mention of Brian.

My mom must be making such a huge sacrifice, I figured, because of the fit I threw when she told me she was engaged. I hadn't spoken to her all week long and avoided her at all costs. When I was with her, I only gave her the most minimal answers to her questions. She knew not to push for more.

I was so upset by her "good" news that, once I was able to stop crying, I reached out to Becca that first Sunday night. I had called her on her cell and she had picked up right away.

"Hey, friend! I miss you. How are you?" Becca had asked.

"Not so good."

"Why? What's wrong, Willow?"

"My mom got engaged."

"To who?"

"To that guy Brian she's been dating."

I could tell I caught her off guard. "Wow. Is he nice?"

"I guess," I had said and was about to tell her more when I heard giggling coming from her end.

"What's so funny?" I wanted to know.

"Stop it, guys!" Becca had yelled at someone. She turned her attention back to me. "Sorry about that. Gabby and Richie are acting like idiots."

More giggling and screaming echoed through Becca's phone.

"Give it back!" she yelled.

I rolled my eyes. What the hell was going on over there? Couldn't Becca give me a minute of her time, especially since I was so upset?

"Willow, let me call you back later. Okay?"

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth and hung up. I hurled my phone across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor below. I had thrown it so powerfully, the battery cover flew off and the battery flew even further.

I climbed off my bed so I could retrieve the pieces and reassemble my cell. As soon as I had placed the battery back into its proper spot, it rang. I figured it was Becca.

I sat up. "Hello?"

"Hey there, smiley." It was Michael and I could tell he was smiling.

"Smiley? Why smiley?"

"'Cause that's the last thing you texted me. A smiley face. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"You don't sound so smiley today. What's wrong?"

I proceeded to tell Michael why I was upset and he listened intently and tried to reason with me. Michael tried to convince me that since my mother wanted to get married, she must have loved my father and they must have had a good marriage if she was willing to do it all over again with Brian. By the end of the conversation, I didn't feel as badly about the whole thing.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked before he coughed.

Even though I was still a little disappointed, I had relented. "Yeah, I guess."

"I can hear it."

Michael had gotten excited. "What are you doing next Saturday night?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Wanna get together?"

"Sure. Where?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something special and let you know. Okay?"

"Okay," I had said before we signed off. I was actually excited about our date. I couldn't believe I considered it to be a "date," our first one.

Now I was anxious for the school day to be over because I realized I'd be spending the next night with Michael. Plus my mom promised me I could go out. I didn't care what we were going to do. I was over the moon at the thought of seeing him. His mere presence, even just his voice always seemed to calm me.

I had to persevere through eight more grueling hours before the weekend was officially upon me and all the fun that was sure to accompany it.

• • •

Friday at school flew by. I went upstairs to my room when I got home and stayed up there the whole night. I only went downstairs to get something to eat. My mom tried to coax me into eating pizza with her and James, but I wanted to be alone and opted for a tuna sandwich.

On the ferry ride home, I had texted Michael to see if he had any idea about what we would do the following night. I was getting ready to go to sleep and still hadn't heard from him. I checked his MyWeb status and there didn't seem to be any recent activity. The most recent quote under his profile picture read: Stand with me, lie with me, walk with me through the peaks and valleys of life. That was interesting, I thought to myself, but why wasn't he getting back to me?

I decided to put my cell phone on vibrate and stick it underneath my pillow in case he called. I was really tired and fell easily to sleep as I imagined the fun things we would do together the next night.

When I woke up bright and early the next morning, I assumed that Michael didn't call because I never felt my phone vibrate during the night. I checked it and saw that I was right; there were no new texts or missed calls from anyone.

As I lay there, I, once again, wondered why I hadn't heard from Michael and if I would hear from him at all. Maybe he was really sick and couldn't text or call me. I was so confused. I picked up my phone and dialed his number. It went straight to his voice mail.

I didn't know what to do. I finally had plans for a Saturday night and wasn't stuck home with my brother for once. Now I wasn't sure if I was going to be doing anything besides sitting home miserably with my mother and brother.

I contemplated calling Erica and Taylor to see if they wanted to maybe get together, but the two of them had avoided me like the plague since I had been honest about my feelings and their jealousy toward Tessa.

At least Erica had reached out to me when she told me that some girls were calling Tessa and me whores. Taylor wouldn't even glance my way when we passed one another in the hallways. I didn't have time for their theatrics and decided I'd rather stay home and twiddle my thumbs than have to try and live up to their high ethical standards. I knew I wasn't a whore and that's all that mattered.

I couldn't believe this was happening again with Michael. I was more worried about him than mad at him, especially since he had confided in me about his illness. He had to have been really sick, I reasoned, or he would have definitely gotten back to me.

I had done some research on CF and found out that the symptoms of the disease varied from person to person, some more serious than others. And the symptoms and severity of CF also varied over time. Sometimes a person may experience just a few symptoms, other times there could be many.

The CF website said that over time, permanent damage to the lungs could cause severe breathing problems. Early treatment of the disease could improve both the quality of life and actual lifespan. Luckily, as the treatments for Cystic Fibrosis continued to improve, so did the life expectancy for those who had it.

I couldn't relax and lie down anymore. I sat up, grabbed my computer and, once again, checked out Michael's MyWeb. Nothing. I started to worry. What if he was home, unable to breathe or in a hospital somewhere in Portland alone? I wanted to hear his voice, even if he was really sick, just to know that he was okay. My dilemma about what I was going to do on Saturday night and whom I would be doing it with now became the least of my worries.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-EIGHT

Saturday slowly crept by and I still hadn't heard a word from Michael. I was sick with worry, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, except sit around and hope that he contacted me.

My mom took James out for lunch so I took advantage of being alone in the house and went downstairs to see if I could find something edible. I rummaged through the cabinets and couldn't find anything. Finally my hand touched something in the back. I found a stale, hard bagel. I was hungry and desperate so I popped it in the toaster, figuring it couldn't get any harder. I'd just smother the deadly weapon with cream cheese and hope for the best.

Just as the bagel-rock popped up, my cell phone beeped, telling me I had a new text message. I didn't recognize the phone number, but I opened it and read it anyway. The message was from Michael. He said that he was using his mom's cell phone to text me. The rest of the message read: "So sorry about tonight. I won't be able to get together. I'm in the hospital doing okay. I'll call when I get a chance."

At first I was disappointed that I wouldn't be seeing Michael later that night, but so relieved to know that he was doing all right. I wondered why he was in the hospital and when he went there. I hoped that he really was doing okay and that he didn't just say that so I wouldn't worry too much.

Well, I couldn't help myself. I started to worry. How long would Michael be in the hospital and how sick was he, I wondered? I quickly realized that I couldn't solve anything by worrying, so I piled on the cream cheese and tried to think of what I would text back. "Feel better soon," I wrote. I didn't want to say any more in case his mom read it.

I closed my cell phone and walked over to the table. As I sat alone in the cold, lonely kitchen and ate my tasteless bagel, I wished that it was nighttime and that the sky was dark and cloudless so I, too, could wish upon a star for the recovery of a sick boy whom I found myself falling for. Hard.

• • •

I spent most of the afternoon in my room surfing the net and listening to music. I still had homework to do, but wasn't in the mood to do it. For that matter, I wasn't in the mood to do anything. I was too worried about Michael.

I heard my mother and brother return shortly after lunch. I wasn't looking forward to spending the night home with the two of them and hadn't yet told my mother that my plans were cancelled. Then I realized that I hadn't even told my mom that I had any plans to begin with. I had avoided her as much as possible since her latest and greatest announcement. I tried not to think of my mom being engaged to Brian. I tried not to think of my mom at all.

I didn't know whom else to call to go out. For a split second I thought of Tessa. I wondered what she was doing, but thought better of it, guessing she'd most likely be going to some wild party. I didn't want to socialize with people and make idle chit chat. I was in no mood.

As if reading my mind, my phone rang. It was Tessa.

"Hey. What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing. What are you doing tonight?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Wanna hang?"

"Where?"

"Dunno."

"You mean a party somewhere?" I asked.

"No. No parties tonight. Wanna just come over here? I'll pick you up."

"Will your brother be there?"

"Yeah, but he's already in a stupor. He won't bother us."

"What time?"

"I'll get you at seven," she said as she took a drag. "Wanna sleep over?"

"Are your parents home?"

"What do you think?" she snapped, as if I should always be up to date on her parents' whereabouts.

"I'll have to ask my mom. You may have to come in and meet her, especially if I'm gonna sleep over."

"What am I," Tessa asked sarcastically, "your babysitter?"

"Forget it then!"

"Fine, fine," she huffed. "I'll make sure to wear something professional, too. Maybe I'll borrow one of the outfits my mom wears to her charity events."

"Ha, ha. Funny. You have to act mature and tell my mom that your parents will be home if she asks."

"I'm always mature, Willow," she said and blew her smoke into the phone.

"And," I added, "don't smoke before you come here. I don't want you smelling like it."

"Are you serious? Am I gonna have to take a Breathalyzer, too, for Christ's sake?"

"Then forget the whole thing!" I yelled.

Tessa relented. "Alright. Calm down. I'll act all proper and shit and behave like a young lady and won't drink or smoke until we get back to my house."

"Okay. See you at seven," I said and hung up.

I stood and walked over to my mirror and studied my reflection. I looked pathetic, like I just rolled out of bed. I turned toward my closet. First I wanted to pick out a cute, but comfortable outfit and then I'd shower.

In the meantime, I had to think about how I was going to convince my mother to let me stay overnight at Tessa's, when I had never even mentioned her name before. I didn't know why my mom would care where I slept. Sometimes it seemed like she cared too much about what I did or with whom I did it, but other times I felt as though my mother was so wrapped up in her own little world, she didn't care about me at all.

• • •

Tessa rang the doorbell promptly at seven. I ran down the stairs to answer it. I wanted to take a whiff of her to make sure she didn't reek of smoke or booze, for that matter. I just never knew with her.

I was surprised earlier when I had asked my mom if I could go over to Tessa's and spend the night. I told her that Tessa would come inside so she could meet her first. I felt as if I was going on a date.

My mom had said, "yes," so easily. What was up with her, I wondered? Maybe she felt guilty for making me stay home with James the Saturday night before or because she knew how unhappy I was that she was planning a future with Mr. Roberts. That's what I felt like calling Brian from now on; Mr. Roberts, just to show them both how much I disapproved of their impending union.

I should take advantage of her guilt and ask her if I could get my driver's permit soon. I had already asked her a bunch of times and she had said, "no," each and every time.

Tessa looked nice. Thankfully she didn't follow through with her threat and wear one of her mother's suits. Again, I never knew with her. She had on a down jacket, pair of jeans and UGG boots. I too settled on my UGGs, a comfy sweater and pair of yoga pants from PINK.

Tessa followed me into the kitchen where my mom stood, baking cookies.

I cleared my throat. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my friend Tessa." I sounded so ridiculous, like I had just finished interviewing Tessa for a position at a company where my mom was the head of HR.

Respectfully Tessa stuck out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Flynn."

My mother surveyed Tessa from head to toe before she wiped her hand on her apron and reciprocated. "Nice to meet you, too."

My mother smiled. "Will your parents be home tonight, Tessa?"

Without missing a beat, Tessa answered. "Yes, they will be, Mrs. Flynn. Would you like me to call them, now, so you can speak with them?"

I almost keeled over. Why the hell did Tessa say that? We both knew very well that her parents weren't going to be around. Why would she offer my mother the chance to talk to people I had never even met?

My mother put up her hand and shook her head. "No, that's alright, dear. Maybe another time."

Tessa looked over at me and smirked. She was a piece of work all right. Somehow she knew my mother would say, "No."

"Gotta go," I said as I spun on my heels and headed for the front door. Tessa was right behind me. I grabbed my overnight bag and my North Face jacket and practically ran to Tessa's car so my mother wouldn't have the chance to ask any more questions that could potentially incriminate us.

##   CHAPTER  
TWENTY-NINE

As we headed toward Tessa's house, we talked about what we would do once there.

"We can rent a movie," she suggested.

I shrugged. "Sounds good to me." I didn't care what we did. I was just grateful to be away from home.

Tessa took a sharp right into the parking lot of a convenience store and stopped.

"Gotta get some cigarettes. Want anything?"

I shook my head. "No thanks."

Tessa climbed out and I stared out the window at the other customers while I waited. I looked far to my right and, even though it was dark, I could have sworn that I saw Brian Roberts chatting with a woman. They were standing outside an unfamiliar car. I was certain it was Brian because this man was so tall, as tall as Brian, whom I was convinced was the tallest man on the island.

The man and the woman embraced and then kissed each other on the lips. It wasn't a quick, "it was nice to see you long-lost-friend," kinda kiss. It was a long, lingering kiss, the kind reserved for lovers.

I was shocked. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing clearly, yet was careful not to smudge the little makeup I had on. The woman got into a car and drove off. Brian stayed and waved as she did. He then walked to the side of the building and disappeared. I saw car headlights go on as their reflection bounced off the side of the store. A few seconds later, that car backed out and drove off in the opposite direction of the mysterious woman.

Because it was so dark outside, I couldn't tell for sure whether or not it was Brian's car. It seemed much smaller than the car he normally drove, more of a sports car than a sedan, but I could swear it was Brian. He'd been at my house enough times for me to know what he looked like, even in a dimly lit parking lot.

I was speechless. Tessa got back into the car and did a double take when she looked over at me.

"What the hell's wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost!"

"No. I'm, I'm fine," I stammered.

Tessa pulled out and we drove to her house. I stared straight ahead as my brain tried to process what had just happened. Was that, for sure, Brian Roberts or was it someone who looked a lot like him? If it was Brian, why did he hug and kiss another woman? If he was intimate with someone else, why was he engaged to my mother? Hundreds of different questions and scenarios bounced around in my head as we headed east on Shoreline Drive. Maybe Brian's being unfaithful to my mom was the best thing that could happen, I thought. She would surely break up with him and call off the engagement once she found out. I had one small, yet crucial obstacle, however. I somehow had to prove it.

• • •

We pulled up to Tessa's and I got a rush of anxiety when I saw her brother's truck sitting in the driveway.

"Are you sure your brother won't bother us?"

"Why are you so afraid of him, Willow?" Tessa rolled her eyes. "Trust me. He's harmless."

We walked into the house and it seemed as though no one else was there. Hopefully Jaques was in his drug cave and wouldn't feel the need to emerge all night long.

Tessa and I went into the family room and she turned to the television channel that allowed you to rent movies.

"What do you wanna watch?" Tessa asked me.

"I don't really care. What about you?"

Before she could answer, Tessa's phone rang. She picked up. "Nothing, asshole. What about you two?"

Tessa laughed. "Just me and my friend, Willow." She smiled. "Hey, be nice. Sounds good. See ya!"

"Who was that?" I wanted to know. "And what mean thing did they say about me?"

"It was Connor and, chill, he didn't say anything mean about you."

"What did he want?"

"He and Rocky are coming over."

I panicked. "Where? Here?!"

Tessa looked at me as if I was insane. "Of course, here, unless you want to meet up with them somewhere else."

I needed to stay cool, calm and collected. I kicked off my boots, put my feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. "Whatever."

• • •

Tessa and I had just finished ordering a newly released comedy when her louder-than-hell doorbell rang. I jumped.

Tessa extinguished her cigarette and stood. "They're here."

I stayed and sat while Tessa answered the door. I couldn't believe that we were going to hang out with Connor and "The God." I hadn't really seen Rocky since the time Tessa and I sat at his lunch table. I was mortified because he had obviously remembered me from his party after all. I was so embarrassed about what had happened between us, I tried my best to steer clear of him from then on. And now, I was going to be in a room with just him and two others. I was beyond nervous.

I barely put any effort into getting ready for the night because Tessa said it would be just the two of us hanging out. I shook my head and scolded myself. Why did I even care how I looked in front of Connor and Rocky? I didn't care what either of them thought about me. I would have taken more time with myself if I were going to be seeing Michael, which made me then think of him and get sad because I imagined him alone in a hospital room somewhere.

My sadness quickly changed to dread when I heard the three of them walking down the hallway. The minute they entered the family room, I could feel my face getting flush. I tried to compose myself and took long, deep breaths.

I turned around on the sofa, gave a slight wave and a casual, "Hello."

Connor spoke first. "Hey! What's up, Willow?" He smiled and waved. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." I said. Nice to meet you, I thought to myself. I've been in the same school with you for the past five months, traveled the same crowded hallways, dined in the same stinky lunchroom and even had a mutual friend, Tessa, in common, and he was pleased to meet me? Whatever. On second thought, I was okay with it and wished the circumstances were the same for my familiarity with Rocky.

Rocky gave me a nod. "How's it goin'?"

I smiled. "Good."

I hated to admit it, but Rocky looked hotter than ever and Connor wasn't actually as ugly as I had thought. Freckle-faced Connor seemed friendly and outgoing, which kind of made him seem cuter and less gangly. They both had on long-sleeved polos and cool, tight jeans.

Tessa plopped down on the couch across from me and Rocky and Connor on either side of her.

"Whatta ya gals watching?" Connor asked.

"We just rented Beach Bums," Tessa answered.

"That movie was hysterical," Connor said, "and you know what made it even funnier?" Connor looked at Tessa and then over at me. We both shook our heads.

"What?" Tessa playfully whacked him in the arm. "The suspense is killing me."

Connor reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cigarette, a big, fat homemade cigarette. It took a minute for my mind to register what he was holding. Tessa grabbed it and smelled it.

"Is it good shit?"

Connor smiled. "The best shit. Ask Rocky."

Rocky nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty good."

Tessa popped up. "Hold on. Let me get my lighter." Tessa raced into the kitchen, quickly grabbed her lighter and pack of cigarettes off the island and joined us.

"Who wants the first hit?" Tessa offered.

Connor motioned to her. "Be my guest."

Tessa lit the joint and inhaled deeply. Connor moved closer to her and she blew the smoke into his mouth. They both chuckled. Connor took the joint from her, took a long, deep drag and held his breath. Tessa leaned toward Connor and she took in his expelled smoke. They kissed afterward.

Connor turned toward Rocky, "Waste not, want not."

Rocky took the joint. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Connor laughed. "Forget it. Just toke, man."

Rocky took a drag and held his breath. Oh my God! What was I going to do? I assumed he was going to pass it to me next. I had never smoked pot in my life, let alone been in the same room with people who were getting high off of it. The next thing I knew, Rocky stood up and handed me the joint.

I didn't know what to do! I had one of two choices. I could pass it along to Tessa and give a, "No thanks, not my thing" response and come off like a complete and total nerd or I could just take the joint, mimic how the rest of them smoked the damn thing and hope for the best.

I quickly realized I didn't have the luxury of time on my side in order to make such a decision, when I looked up and found all three of them staring at me. Before I knew it, I sucked on the slimy, wet joint and held the foul tasting smoke in my lungs right before I spewed it into the middle of the room, ending the whole fiasco in a raging, coughing fit.

• • •

"You okay?" Tessa asked, genuinely concerned for my well-being.

Once I finished choking, I answered. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You've never smoked before, have you, Willow?" Tessa asked as she smiled wryly and took another drag.

I hated being put on the spot, especially with three pairs of ears waiting for a response. I didn't want to lie, but I also didn't want to admit that I had never smoked marijuana before, especially in front of the uber-cool Connor and Rocky.

Thankfully Tessa didn't insist upon an answer from me and instead turned toward Connor and transferred her magical exhaust into his mouth.

Since I didn't feel any differently after taking that first hit, I decided to take another one, hoping that it wouldn't have any effect on me the second time around. Plus, I wanted to play it cool and not let the others think that I was totally inexperienced when it came to drugs.

I inhaled, held my breath and exhaled slowly this time, luckily, without coughing up a lung.

I passed the joint to Tessa. As I went to sit back down, I almost fell over. I suddenly felt dizzy and all the noises in the room became magnified. Between the ticking clock and Tessa's giggles, I felt like my eardrums were going to explode. When I looked at Rocky and Connor, they seemed to be moving in slow motion. I got scared for a minute because I was lucid enough to connect the dots in my drug-affected brain and realize that I was, in fact, high.

Connor moved his hands rapidly in front of Tessa's face, which made her recoil in fear. Connor and Rocky started laughing. I chuckled. Tessa looked so silly being afraid of Connor's quick, yet slow hand movements.

"Stop it, Connor!" Tessa shouted in slow motion.

Connor did it again. Tessa got up and ran down the hallway toward the area that Jaques had come from the first time I visited their house. Maybe she went to confer with her brother, the drug expert, in his cave or maybe she went to use a bathroom somewhere. Either way, I could honestly say I didn't care where Tessa went.

Connor and Rocky burst out laughing again. I couldn't control myself. I did, too! The whole scene was absurd and I finally relaxed and put my feet up again. I took the longest hit when Rocky handed it off to me for the third time. As I held the THC-filled smoke in my lungs, I nodded and thought to myself, this really was good shit.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY

Tessa finally joined the three of us. By the time she did, Connor had already raided her food pantry and popped us some popcorn. Rocky started the movie Tessa rented and the three of us sat there and laughed like a bunch of hyenas.

Tessa stood directly in front of Connor and pouted. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

Connor looked up at her and pulled her onto his lap. "Sorry, babe. We didn't know what the hell happened to you."

"You could've come and looked for me," Tessa said as she rested her head on Connor's shoulder.

Connor was sidetracked by a funny part in the movie and chortled. Unfortunately, unlike the rest of us, Tessa was not amused.

She stood. "Stop watching that, Connor!" she demanded.

"What?! Why?"

I could see Tessa thinking. She softened. "'Cause I want to show you that new thing I bought that's upstairs in my room."

Tessa now had Connor's undivided attention. Connor sprang up and looked her in the eyes. "Show me."

Tessa took his hand and they walked away.

I was quite embarrassed because I could just imagine where they were going and what they would be doing once they got there. I looked over toward Rocky who rested easily on the sofa as he ate popcorn and sipped a soda. He was really into the movie and kept laughing all by himself.

I was still thirsty so I got up and went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and searched for something to drink. I didn't want another soda, so I settled on a water bottle. As I closed the fridge and turned around, I bumped right into Rocky, actually into his hard, muscular chest.

He was much taller than I, so I had to look up at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I showed him the water. "Just getting a drink."

"Why'd you leave me?"

I was confused and didn't understand what he meant. "Leave you? You were watching the movie and I was thirsty."

Rocky put both his hands on my waist and whispered. "You're cute. You know that?"

Nervously I looked around the kitchen, hoping that somebody, anybody would walk into the room and interrupt the awkward moment. I even said a quick prayer that Jaques would suddenly appear.

No one came. Rocky closed his eyes and bent forward to kiss me. Before his lips could reach mine, I ducked and briskly walked away from him, straight into the family room.

I sat on the couch and remained rigid, hoping that Rocky would take a hint and not sit anywhere near me. He sauntered in and did exactly what I dreaded. Not only did Rocky sit next to me, he practically sat on top of me. I stared at the TV and pretended he wasn't there. Pretending didn't help for very long as Rocky's hand crept onto my thigh and started rubbing it.

"Hey. What's wrong? I just wanted to kiss you."

My heart started beating so rapidly, I thought it would pop out of my chest. I wasn't high anymore and didn't know how to respond.

"Uh, uh," I stuttered as I continued watching TV. "I'm flattered, but—"

"Yum!" someone shouted. "Something smells good out here."

Rocky and I turned to the left and saw Jaques entering from the hallway where he spent most of his time hibernating.

"You guys got any left?"

Jaques stopped near Rocky and me and waved. "Hey, man. What's up? I'm Tessa's brother, Jaques. And you?"

Rocky stuck out his hand to shake, thankfully the same hand that had been rubbing my leg. "I'm Rocky."

The guys shook. "Cool," Jaques said and stared at me as if waiting for my name, too.

"We've already met," I said. "A couple of times actually."

Except for the pupils, Jaques's eyes were completely red. He was as high as a kite and I wasn't surprised. He smiled as he remembered. "Yeah, that's right. Holly, right? Your name is Holly?"

Rocky chuckled next to me. I couldn't help myself and giggled, too. I put on my most serious face and smiled up at Tessa's baked brother. "Yes, you're right. My name is Holly."

• • •

I wasn't insulted that Jaques didn't remember my name. At least my prayers were answered when he came in and he stopped Rocky from making any more moves on me.

I couldn't believe I actually thwarted "The God's" attempt at seducing me. The hottest boy in school wanted to kiss me and I actually stopped him dead in his tracks. I'm sure he was flabbergasted that a little ole sophomore like me didn't want to get to first base with a big, manly senior like himself.

A part of me almost wished that I was still on speaking terms with Erica and Taylor. Their heads would spin with this latest tale. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't believe a word of it.

Jaques ate the rest of the popcorn and watched the movie with Rocky and me. Jaques laughed at every joke, even the ones that weren't funny. But, because he was there, Rocky didn't try to get to any base with me. I never thought I'd be so happy to be in the presence of crazy Jaques, but I was.

The movie was almost over when Tessa and Connor decided to come back downstairs and join us. Connor was disheveled.

"Come on, guys," she said. "Connor and I wanna go to the store to get some beer."

Jaques stood up and fished for his wallet. "Hey, can you dudes bring me back some if I pay for all of it?"

Connor's green eyes got big. "Sure!"

Jaques handed Connor a wad of bills.

"Thanks, man," Connor said.

"No, thank you," Jaques said before he bowed to Connor, as if he were addressing royalty.

Tessa rolled her eyes. Rocky and I stood and followed her and Connor into the hallway and toward the foyer.

When we reached the front door, Rocky leaned over and whispered to me, "Her brother is the weirdest dude I've ever met."

I looked up at him and smiled. "Tell me about it!"

• • •

Connor drove us in his parents' Lexus to the same convenience store where I had caught Brian, or his identical twin brother, earlier in a compromising situation with another woman. I did realize, though, that I'd have to investigate further before I could make any accusations against him.

Tessa sat in the front with Connor, Rocky and I in the back. Rocky ran inside to buy the beer, even though both he and Connor had fake IDs.

Rocky came out with two twenty packs of beer.

"Who the heck's gonna drink all that?" I asked.

"You don't know these two," Tessa said as she turned toward Connor and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Plus, we gotta bring some back to Jaques," Connor added.

Rocky climbed in back with the beer, ripped open the cardboard and handed one to Connor. He popped open a can for himself and asked Tessa and me if we wanted one.

"No thanks," we both said in unison.

Tessa leaned over to Connor. "Let's take a drive. I don't want to go back to my house right away."

"Doesn't Jaques want his beer? He did pay for it."

Tessa got annoyed. "Did my brother look like he needed beer? He's probably passed out by now."

"Where do you wanna go then?" Connor asked.

"I don't care." Tessa turned to Rocky and me. "Do you guys have any suggestions?"

I shook my head.

"Where's there to go?" Rocky asked.

With no real purpose or direction, we headed south on Webster Avenue. I was concerned because Connor started on his second beer as he drove. That's one thing I wasn't cool with, drinking and driving, but I didn't want to seem like a total geek by saying so. Instead, I kept my eyes peeled to the darkened road in front of us in case Connor became impaired.

Finally we slowed and pulled into a parking lot. At first I didn't recognize where we were, but then realized we were at the only elementary school on the island, my brother's, called Orchard, where my mother just happened to work. Connor killed the headlights.

"Why are we here?" Tessa wanted to know.

Connor shrugged. "Where else can we go? It's freezing."

"Again, so why are we here, if we're not going to play outside on the swings?" I could hear the annoyance in Tessa's tone.

Connor turned toward Tessa and the two of us in back. He sipped his beer. "I happen to know a way to get into the school, even though it's locked."

Rocky finished his beer, crushed the aluminum can in his hand and threw it on the floor. "Didn't you and some other guys do this a few years ago and get busted?"

Connor smiled. "Yeah, but I was stupid back then and have learned never to make the same mistake twice."

"I'm game. Let's go," Rocky said as he opened his door, grabbed the case of beer and climbed out. Connor addressed Tessa and me. "You two gonna come?"

Tessa looked at me and shrugged. "Sure. What the hell else are we gonna do besides freeze our asses off out here?"

Connor got out and Tessa followed. I sat there for a moment, frozen, not from the cold, harsh temperatures that now permeated the car, but from the fear of what we were about to do. I just knew in my gut that nothing good would come of it.

As I sat there and contemplated my next move, I could see their three shadowy figures off in the distance, getting smaller and less visible. I was scared to go, but even more scared to stay alone in the car, in the middle of the dark and desolate parking lot.

Against my better judgment, I left the safety of the car and followed them into the night and into the worst decision of my life.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-ONE

I started to get spooked the minute I left the Lexus. I could swear someone was following me so I ran as fast as I could, actually sprinted, in order the catch up with Tessa and the boys. I never realized how fast I was able to run and contemplated signing up for the track team, once the spring sports season rolled around.

I found the three of them behind the school. When I reached them, Connor had already removed a small metal door from its hinges with a pocketknife. He stuck the knife in his jeans, put the door to the side and crawled through it. Rocky and Tessa followed him and I did, too. It was freezing outside and I was glad to be anywhere that was heated.

When I stood up, I brushed off my knees and saw that we were inside a small janitor's room. Brooms, mops and feather dusters hung from the walls. I couldn't imagine what purpose the little metal door served, but I didn't care enough to ask anyone either.

Connor opened another door, which led to a darkened hallway, and looked both ways before entering it. He used the flashlight on his cell phone as a guide so we wouldn't trip and kill ourselves as we followed him. The four of us looked like a troop of Boy Scouts on their first camping trip.

We reached the school's gymnasium and walked inside. Connor left us for a second and switched on the lights.

"Give me one," Tessa said to Rocky. He handed her a beer.

Rocky turned to me. "You sure you don't want one? We got plenty."

I put my hand up and shook my head. "I'm good, thanks."

Connor grabbed a beer, walked toward the wall, grabbed a cord and pulled down a hinged lunch table that was folded up inside its own little alcove.

Connor sat at the rectangular table and we joined him. Tessa sipped her beer and looked at Connor. "Now what?"

"What do you mean, now what? You said you didn't want to go back to your house. Where else did you want to go?" Connor was definitely irritated.

We all just sat there and looked at each other. The three of them drank their beer while I fiddled with my phone. I checked to see if I had any new texts. Not one.

Connor piped up. "Rocky, tell them about the time you drank so much, you went skinny dipping in the principal's pool."

Rocky chuckled as he remembered.

"Which principal, which pool?" Tessa asked.

"The principal at this school, um..." Connor thought. "Mr. Roberts, I think."

I shook my head in confusion. "Brian Roberts?"

"Yeah, I think that's him," Connor said and took a swig. "Tall dude. You know him?"

"Maybe, but he's a fifth grade teacher not the principal. Mr. Woods is."

"Well, he used to be the principal here three years ago when Rocky decided to do a belly flop in his pool at two o'clock in the morning," Connor laughed.

"I was so wasted. I hardly remember," Rocky said, "but I do remember his wife coming outside and screaming at me. She was pissed."

Again, I shook my head. "Wife? He's married?"

"He was back then," Rocky said.

"Didn't she say she was going to call the police on you?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, and her husband had to calm her down; told me he wouldn't call the police if I got dressed and got lost."

"What did she look like?" I wanted to know.

"Who?" Rocky asked.

"The wife!"

Rocky shook his head. "I don't remember. It was three years ago and I was really drunk."

Tessa looked at me quizzically and inquired about all my inquiries. "Willow, why the hell do you care so much about this Mr. Roberts and his marital status?"

"Never mind," I said and looked away. Just then my phone rang. It was my mother. I signaled to the others to be quiet.

"Shhh. It's my mom."

I picked up. "Hello?"

"What are you doing?"

"Just watching TV."

"Okay. Brian and I will be going out of town next weekend and I wanted to make sure you don't make any plans and will be home to watch James."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. I guess."

"Great, thanks, dear."

"Mom, I have a question."

"What?"

"Was Brian ever married?"

"No. Why?"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Why are you asking me this, Willow?"

"Just wondered," I said. "See you tomorrow, Mom."

I hung up, put down my cell phone and looked up to find three sets of eyes staring at me as if I had two heads.

• • •

"What the hell was that all about?" Tessa wanted to know.

"Nothing." I didn't want to tell them anything and hadn't realized they were listening to my conversation.

Tessa grabbed my arm from across the table and pulled on it. "Come on. Tell us."

I pulled my arm back and was firm. "No."

My head was spinning with questions about what I had just found out. Why wasn't Brian the principal at Orchard Elementary anymore? If he hadn't ever been married, who was the woman at his house who yelled at Rocky? Did this mysterious woman have anything to do with the woman I saw getting cozy with Brian, or someone who looked exactly like him, in the parking lot?

Tessa was relentless. "Willow, you obviously know Mr. Roberts somehow. What's the big deal?"

I was not going to tell her anything about Brian, especially in front of Connor and Rocky. "Forget about it."

"Forget what?" Tessa moaned. "Tell us!"

I couldn't take her or her questions anymore. I stood up and stormed off toward the gym door and was just about to push it open, when it magically opened for me.

"Freeze!" a policeman shouted as he stood in front of me with his gun drawn. "Put your hands up! Now!"

Un-be-freakin-lievable! I threw my hands up and turned toward the others as another police officer rushed in. I had known from the beginning that this was a bad idea and realized that I needed to start listening to my beer-less gut more often.

• • •

The two officers lowered their weapons when they saw it was just a bunch of teenagers hanging out and drinking. The first policeman made me walk over toward the others.

Rocky looked at Connor. "I thought you never made the same mistake twice."

Connor shrugged.

"Do you kids have IDs?" the officer asked, the one who tensely greeted me at the door. He was short and chubby and looked like a cartoon character with his bulbous nose, big ears and thick unibrow.

We all shook our heads.

"How'd you get the beer?" the other one asked.

Rocky pointed toward Tessa and said, "Her brother—"

Connor elbowed Rocky in the ribs to shut him up. "We paid some random guy at the store to buy it for us. And he did."

Rocky caught on. "Yeah. Some random guy."

Rocky sounded like an idiot, but I knew that saying Tessa's brother bought it for them would get Jaques into trouble and they couldn't show their fake IDs or else they'd get into trouble.

"How old are you kids?" the second officer asked as he took out a small pad of paper and pen from his front pocket. He was young, tall and fit, actually quite handsome, and could have been a movie star.

"Seventeen," Connor responded.

Rocky looked completely baffled, but said, "Yeah. Seventeen."

Tessa pointed to the two us. "We're sixteen."

"If you kids were eighteen, you'd be charged with breaking and entering. You know that?" Officer Cartoony said as he scowled and reprimanded us.

"Come on. Gather up the beer cans and let's go," Officer Movie Star ordered.

Connor and Rocky put all the beer cans back in the cardboard carrier and lifted the end of the table so it folded back up into the wall.

"Whose car is in the parking lot?" Officer Cartoony wanted to know.

Connor raised his hand. "Mine."

"You have your license?"

"Yup."

"Let me see it."

Connor slowly opened his wallet, careful not to reveal his fake ID.

The officer looked at it and handed it back. I couldn't believe the cop didn't realize that Connor was really eighteen. Rocky was, too. Luckily for them, they both got away with it.

"Since you've been drinking, you're not driving anywhere. You can either leave the car here or have your parents come and pick it up."

"How will we get home then?" I asked.

"We'll be driving each of you," the cute one answered, "straight to your parents. Officer Mueller will take the boys."

I panicked. I couldn't go back home. My mother would kill me if she found out, especially because she worked there.

I stammered, "But, um, my mom isn't home, nobody is, and I'm staying over at my friend's house." I pointed to Tessa.

Officer Cutie looked at Tessa. "Will an adult be home if I drive you girls there?"

Tessa nodded. "Yeah, my older brother can vouch for us."

Yikes! I thought to myself. Jaques vouch for us? Stoned, incoherent Jaques? I was better off going home and facing my mother or even a firing squad.

I looked at Tessa with big eyes. She shook her head and dismissed my concern. "I'm just gonna text him to tell him we're coming."

"That's fine," the officer said.

We all started walking toward the gym door.

"What were you kids thinking?" Officer Big Nose asked. "Why would you break into an elementary school in the first place?"

Not one of us had an answer. The officer shook his head in disgust.

Connor spoke up. "Can I ask you something?"

The policeman nodded.

"How did you even know we were in here?"

"The school's silent security system went off at the monitoring station after one of its motion sensors detected movement in the hallway and then in the gymnasium."

Connor looked at him puzzled. "Is that something new?"

"What? The security system?" asked Big Nose.

Connor nodded.

"Yeah, they installed it a few years ago after another bunch of foolish teens broke in. Why?"

"No reason," Connor said as we followed the police officers out of the school the appropriate way, through its two, glass-paned front doors.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-TWO

In the parking lot, Officer Handsome took our names and said he was going to hand them over to the school's administrators. It would be up to them to dole out a punishment, if any. He said he figured we'd at least have to suffer some sort of consequence back home once he showed up at the door with us in tow. But, because I was going over to Tessa's for the night, he said he would make sure someone at the school contacted my mother to fill her in on what had happened. Little did he know how easily my mother would find out. I panicked at the thought of it, but didn't let on as he escorted us toward Tessa's front door.

Tessa opened the unlocked door and we followed her inside.

"Jaques!" she screamed. Her voice echoed in the big, empty foyer.

As we walked toward the back of the house, Officer Cutie seemed to scrutinize every nook and cranny. When we reached the family room, Jaques appeared from the direction of the mysterious hallway. I looked around and realized that the family room was completely cleaned up. No popcorn bowls or empty soda cans were in sight.

Jaques held out his hand. "Jaques Anderson."

Officer Cutie grabbed and shook. "Officer Collins."

The officer flashed a quick, cute smile, but then got down to business. "How are you related to the suspect?"

Suspect? I thought to myself. I wanted to chuckle, but didn't dare.

Jaques got serious, too, and, thankfully, didn't seem one bit high. "I'm her older brother, Officer Collins." How the heck did Jaques sober up so fast, I wondered.

"Where are your parents?"

"They're staying in Portland tonight, but will be joining us tomorrow."

"Are you willing to take responsibility for your sister and her friend, here?"

"Absolutely. I will make sure that Tessa and Holly don't leave again tonight."

The officer was confused. "Holly?"

Tessa quickly butted in. "He means Willow. He always confuses my two best friends Holly and Willow 'cause they look so much alike." Tessa tilted her head and flashed her pearly whites.

I smiled calmly when Officer Collins looked over at me, even though I was horrified on the inside.

He seemed satisfied. "Fine. And girls. I suggest you not try anything like that again. Next time you might face criminal charges."

Jaques stuck out his hand. "I'll see to it that they won't, Officer, and will make sure to tell my parents first thing tomorrow morning."

"Jaques!" Tessa huffed.

"Sorry, sis."

Officer Cutie shook Jaques's hand. "Thank you."

After Jaques was done charming the policeman, he ushered him toward the foyer. As soon as they left the room, I looked at Tessa.

"Are you parents gonna be pissed when Jaques tells them what happened?"

"No," she stated without hesitation as she walked away toward the kitchen.

"Really?" I said as I followed her. "Not at all?"

"Jaques isn't gonna tell them _anything_ ," she said with the utmost confidence.

I was confused. "But he just said—"

Tessa stopped and turned toward me. "He was just saying that, Willow, to kiss up to Officer Collins. He'd never rat me out to our parents. Never."

"Lucky you," I said as I leaned against the cold, granite countertop while coming to terms with my reality. "I, on the other hand, am gonna be screwed!"

• • •

"Willow Ann Flynn! What were you thinking?" my mother scolded me, as her dark green eyes grew even darker with anger. "Your father would be so disappointed in you!"

I got angry and shot back, "Don't bring Daddy into this! He's not here anymore to say how he'd feel and you've had no problem replacing him, have you, you whore!"

My mom, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, jumped up and lunged at me. She grabbed me around my throat and started squeezing. I couldn't believe the power she held within her slender, little fingers. I couldn't breathe as she continued to strangle me. I tried to fight her off, but all the muscles in my body were frozen. I couldn't move and could feel myself going unconscious. With one last burst of energy I screamed, "Stopppppp!"

I woke up and found myself lying next to Tessa. She moved.

"What are you saying?" she asked groggily.

I shook my head. "Nothing. I was just having a bad dream."

I turned on my side and faced the wall. The sun was starting to stream in through her bedroom window. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nine. I got up and closed the blinds remembering that we hadn't gone to bed until 4:00 A.M. I definitely needed more sleep.

I forced my eyes closed as I thought back to the dream. It seemed so real. I called my mother a whore and she tried to kill me. Why had I dreamt it? Did I really think of my mother as a whore? Did I feel that she was, in a way, killing me, or the part of me that was of my father, by marrying Brian?

I pulled the covers over my head and tried to go back to sleep so I could forget the events of the night before and the horrible dream that, somehow, crept inside and invaded me.

• • •

Tessa finally dropped me off at my house around noon. Luckily my mom and James weren't home and I was thankful to be alone in the house.

As soon as I walked in the front door, Princess came up to me and brushed her spine against my leg. I felt so badly for my cat. I had been neglecting her lately. I was so busy with my own life, I forgot to pay attention to my furry friend.

I knelt down and petted her. "Hi, there, Princess." She purred as I stroked her.

I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "I love you," I said and meant it. Even though I hadn't spent much time with my cat, I realized I really did love her and would miss her terribly if anything ever happened to her. I couldn't think that way and removed any such thought from my head.

I also realized that I had neglected more than my cat lately. It was already Sunday afternoon and I hadn't done a stitch of homework.

I grabbed a bowl of cereal and headed upstairs just as my mom and James came home. James headed for the television, while my mother carried groceries into the kitchen.

"Did you have fun last night, Willow?" she called over her shoulder.

"You could say that," I said as I spooned some Chocolate O's into my mouth. "I have a ton of homework, Mom. I'll be in my room doing it." I walked out of the kitchen.

"You should have been working on it over the weekend instead of waiting until today, Willow, since—" she called after me as I headed up the stairs. Her voice trailed off as I walked down the hallway and farther away from her.

I knew my mom was right, of course, but I also knew that saving my homework until the last minute was definitely worth it. I'd never forget the previous night and would most likely never have another one like it for the rest of my life.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-THREE

I was never so happy to go to school, freezing ferry ride and all. At the same time I was nervous, envisioning my mother being called down to the principal's office at my brother's elementary school, where Mr. Woods would calmly explain to her how her irresponsible, sixteen-year-old-daughter broke in and trespassed along with a bunch of underage, alcohol-toting teens.

I wondered if I'd be able to hear my mother's reaction across Casco Bay all the way to Portland High when he dropped the bomb. What would she do once she found out? Ground me to the house or to my room indefinitely? I should've packed my belongings just in case my mother demanded that I go and live elsewhere. I felt that I was a disappointment to her lately, but also didn't care at the same time and couldn't explain why.

I looked out the window and saw that we were almost at the dock in Portland. I thought back to the night before. I had just finished my homework when Tessa called. I almost didn't pick up. I didn't feel like talking to her and rehashing our idiotic adventure.

"Hey," I had said.

"I guess Rocky and Connor got grounded for breaking into the school, Connor forever because it's the second time he got caught doing it. He's such a moron. Nice way to spend the rest of your senior year, locked up in solitary."

"I'm gonna be just as grounded as them, by the way, probably even more because my mother works at that freakin' school. I can just hear her now about how much of an embarrassment I am."

"So what," Tessa had said. "Is your mom perfect? Didn't she ever screw up?"

"Not like me, I'm sure," I sighed as I gathered my books and placed them into my backpack.

"Well, either way, you gotta admit that it was kind of fun."

I became annoyed. "It was for you because your parents are never gonna find out! I would love to have an older brother cover for me and my mother not always breathing down my neck about everything I did."

I could sense Tessa thinking on the other end before she answered. "Trust me. You wouldn't."

The boat pulled into the harbor and snapped me back to reality. Maybe Tessa was right. Maybe having a mother who cared, even if it meant being punished, was better than having no one care at all.

• • •

I was as slow as a snail as I made my way toward my homeroom. I took a seat in the back and looked around. Most of the students were already there, but Tessa was noticeably absent. I wasn't surprised. She was always late for homeroom and would come up with some lame excuse for Mr. Singer. He bought it each and every time. It still annoyed me how much she got away with just because she was flirtatious. I couldn't be bothered.

Obediently I raised my hand when called and said, "Here." There was one minute left in homeroom and Tessa still hadn't appeared. Morning announcements were over and I gathered my things for first period. Just then the door to our classroom swung open. Here she comes, I thought to myself, even before Tessa entered. I was dying to hear what excuse she had this morning; her locker contained a hidden bomb that detonated the second she opened it or her ride to school got detained as it had to wait behind a blockade so a convoy containing the president of the United States could pass by.

I was ready and poised, waiting for her tall tale. No one entered right away. Voices could be heard coming from beyond the threshold. Everyone looked at the door to see who was there.

My jaw dropped when the mysterious student entered. Michael Cooper walked in, strolled over to Mr. Singer and said, "Here." The bell rang. The other students got up and headed for the door. Michael searched the room and found me. He stared at me. I remained frozen in my seat and stared back.

• • •

"What are you doing here?" I whispered as I looked around to make sure no else was nearby. "I thought you were sick?"

"I am, I mean I was." Michael turned away to cough.

"You still sound sick to me."

He touched my arm and tried to reassure me. "I'm fine."

We stood in a small, dead-end hallway where the custodial staff resided, far away from the other classrooms. I was skipping my English class and would most certainly get a detention because of it, but I didn't care.

"Your mom doesn't mind that you're here? Can't you get even sicker?" I asked. I had done more research on CF and found out that a person who was in a weakened state could get worse if exposed to even the common cold. A high school, or any school for that matter, was a cesspool of germs waiting to invade the most vulnerable.

He looked away when he answered. "She doesn't know."

"What? Why not?" I was shocked.

"She left early this morning and went on a field trip with my brother's school. I felt bad for canceling our plans the other night."

"But you were in the hospital, Michael. I think that's as good an excuse as any."

"I know, but I still wanted to see you." Michael brushed a wisp of hair from my forehead and let his fingers linger. "I needed to see you," he leaned in closer, "to touch you."

I studied Michael, his face, his eyes, his complexion. He didn't look as sickly as I'd expect having been in the hospital only two days prior. His hair was still short and his dark eyes more intense than ever. He slowly licked his lips and they glistened brightly, even in the dimly lit hallway.

"You're the reason I got better so quickly," he confessed. "Your pretty face was the light at the end of my tunnel." He smiled when he said this and that very moment melted all my worries and fears away.

I looked down. "I just don't want you to get sick again. I'd rather you just stayed home in Portland and got tutored and I'll come over to your house to visit you," I rambled.

"Would your mom really let you?" he asked, hopeful.

I paused and thought about the harsh punishment I would most likely receive later, but for some reason, I felt optimistic. I looked up at Michael and smiled. "I think so."

Michael flashed a toothy grin and said, "Great. Then I'd better get back home before my mom finds out I left. She'll have a fit if she knows I escaped."

I giggled. Michael leaned down toward me and closed his eyes. His lips moved toward mine. I closed my eyes and waited. Little, flittering butterflies overtook my stomach as I lifted my face toward his.

The sound of squeaky wheels filled the hallway as one of the janitors pushed a garbage can toward us. "Hey! What are you kids doing? You know you're not supposed to be down here!"

Startled, Michael and I separated and stared at the grumpy, old man. He waved his hand in the air and growled. "Hurry up. Be on your way, you two."

Michael rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand. "Come on." He walked me to the door of my English class and, only then, let go of it. He stared into my eyes as if trying to memorize them. "I'll call you," he said. "I promise."

I smiled. "Okay."

Michael turned and walked away down the Language Arts hallway and left me staring after him, praying that he'd remain strong and healthy enough so that he'd be able to keep his latest promise.

• • •

The rest of the morning passed by rather quickly. Because I had seen Michael earlier, I was feeling really good, almost giddy.

I ran into Tessa in the lunchroom.

"Do you still have to buy your lunch?" she asked.

I held up my brown bag. "Brought it, why?"

"I wanna sit with you."

I shrugged. "Sure." We walked over to a table and sat. Since I wasn't speaking to Erica or Taylor, I had started eating lunch with some other girls who attended my sweet sixteen. Despite the fact that the senior girls didn't like it, Tessa didn't care and still sat with the guys. Now it was just the two of us.

I pulled out my turkey sandwich and took a bite. "Why aren't you over there with Connor?"

"Cuz he's an idiot and I'm pissed at him."

"Why? What'd he do now?"

"It's what he didn't do. He didn't call me on Sunday. At all."

"So? Is that so unusual?"

Tessa lowered her voice. "It is if you sleep with me the day before." She looked toward the popular table and glared. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Well, I think it's his loss," I said cheerily as I sipped my water. "That's how you gotta look at it, Tessa. It's strictly Connor's loss."

Tessa stared at me. "Why the hell are you so bubbly?"

"I'm just high on life, I guess," I said and smiled. I sounded crazier than ever.

"I hope you have that same attitude when you see your mom after school," Tessa said sarcastically.

And just like that, with one simple sentence, my giddiness turned into gloominess. I didn't want to think about going home and dealing with my mother and the array of possible punishments she would inflict upon me. It was easier living in a state of complete denial.

I put the rest of my sandwich inside the bag and crumpled it up. "Thanks a lot. Now I've lost my appetite because of you."

Tessa ate her salad. "It's not my fault the shit's gonna hit the fan when you get home."

Any happiness I had experienced after my brief time with Michael completely dissipated by the time I boarded the ferryboat bound for the island. And, no matter how uninterested my mother may have seemed about my life in the past, I knew there was no way I was going to remain unscathed when the axe finally came down on Juniper Drive.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-FOUR

Even though I was scared to go home and face the music, I knew it was unavoidable. I decided to get into my mother's good graces before she and James came home. Because our "new" home was so old, it was more difficult to clean. Regardless, I painstakingly scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom from top to bottom until they were spotless and shiny. When I finished those two rooms, I dusted and vacuumed the whole downstairs. I looked around me. The antiquated summerhouse didn't look so bad after all and I hoped that this would lessen whatever my mother had in store for me.

A few minutes later, I heard my mother's car pull into the driveway. The front door opened and James came through it.

"Where's Mom?" I asked nervously.

"She's coming," he said and signaled toward the driveway.

I stood there and waited, waited for whatever sentence would be handed down to me. In that moment, I was able to imagine what a supporter of the French Revolution felt like right before their hooded head was shoved inside the mouth of the guillotine. We had just learned about the barbaric executions in our World History class. Unconsciously, I rubbed my neck. It felt tense and sore.

Carrying her purse and dry cleaning, my mother breezed inside and headed for the kitchen. "Hi, dear," she said as she passed me. "How was school?"

I shook my head to make sure I heard her correctly. I think she said, "How was school?"

I walked toward the kitchen to clear up any confusion. My mom ripped the plastic bags from her clothes and threw them into the trash.

"School was good," I answered, cautiously. "How was it for you?"

She kept ripping. "It was good for me, too."

I leaned against the doorway, baffled. Why wasn't my mother screaming at me? She had to have found out by now about what happened Saturday night. The policeman said that someone from the school would be calling her, but I figured Mr. Woods would have told her, in person, first thing Monday morning. And, if so, why wasn't she yelling and carrying on? Was she playing mind games with me; wanting to see if I would confess to her first?

"It's not safe to keep the plastic bags on your dry cleaning. It keeps the harmful chemicals trapped on your clothing," she informed me.

Dry cleaning, chemicals. What was the catch? Why was my mom so calm? I decided to go along with it. "I'll keep that in mind, Mom, whenever I get something dry-cleaned."

She looked at me and smiled. "Good."

I turned to leave. "By the way, Willow, I'm making your favorite for dinner tonight, Chicken Parmesan."

"Great. Can't wait," I said as I headed for the stairs.

"Also, Brian's joining us!" she shouted after me.

There it was. The catch. I climbed the stairs and rolled my eyes, wondering what other tricks my mom had waiting up her dry-cleaned sleeve.

• • •

Brian and his giantness joined us for dinner. I was so hungry at that point, I didn't care who dined with us. I couldn't wait to eat the delicious chicken smothered in tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese.

As soon as I was done eating, I cleared my dishes and excused myself. Before I was able to flee from the kitchen, Brian spoke. "Willow, why don't you and I clean up and let your mother relax for a little while. She put a lot of hard work into making this delicious meal for us."

I shrugged. "Okay," even though I was thinking about how much housework I had already done earlier in the day. My mom did eventually notice that the house sparkled. I lied and told her I was happy to do it.

All through dinner I had been tense, wondering when my mom was going to confront me. A small part of me felt that maybe she didn't know yet what had happened. I couldn't imagine my mom playing it cool the whole time if she knew that I had illegally broken into a school, especially hers.

"Thanks, you two," my mom said before she went into the family room to relax on the couch and read.

I cleared the table as Brian rinsed the dishes.

"So, Willow. How's it going over at Portland High?"

"Good," was all I said. I was in the kitchen to clean, not to chat with Mr. Roberts.

As I placed more dishes down next to the sink, Brian grabbed my wrist, bent down and whispered to me. "Listen, Willow. Mr. Woods spoke to me this morning about your little incident at the school on Saturday night."

My big, blue eyes got even bigger.

He continued. "I told Mr. Woods that I would tell your mother, but I haven't yet. As you know, we're going away this weekend to meet my family in New Hampshire and I didn't want to upset her unnecessarily beforehand."

My eyes darted around the room nervously before I looked back at Brian. Slowly I responded, "Okay."

"Your mother said she asked you if you wanted to join us, but you said no because you have an important school project to work on. You and James may have no choice but to come with us if I don't feel I can trust leaving you two home alone."

"No, you can. I promise. It was a stupid mistake and I'll never do it again. I promise. Please don't tell her. Ever," I pleaded.

Brian freed me from his grasp and continued rinsing. "I can't guarantee you that, Willow, especially since this is your second offense. If I feel the need to tell your mother the whole truth, at any moment, I just may have to."

I was confused at first, but then slowly realized what Brian was really saying. He was going to hold this over my head forever, like a threat, in order to keep me in line.

I became indignant and pulled out a trump card I didn't think I'd have to use so soon. "Well, what if I tell my mom about you and the lady I saw in the parking lot that same night?" I couldn't believe I said it, especially since I had wanted to investigate and gather some evidence first.

Brian shook his head and acted all confused and innocent. "What lady? What parking lot?"

I wasn't about to buy his clueless act. "You know what I'm talking about," I sneered.

Brian glared at me. "I most certainly do not and I do not appreciate your tone, young lady."

I backed away from Brian. "I'm done in here," I scowled before I turned to leave.

With one giant step, Brian left the sink and beat me to the doorway. He put his face directly in front of mine and spoke softly but firmly. "Do not make me tell her, Willow," he warned, "because I will."

I bravely stared back at Brian and wasn't going to show him one ounce of fear, while feeling completely terrified on the inside. Forcing my fakest grin, I smiled up at him before making my way through the spotless family room and straight up the stairs to my room, in search of refuge through my own, self-imposed exile.

• • •

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, claiming that I had too much homework and couldn't join the others for dessert. I really did have a ton of homework and was intimidated enough by Brian to pass up chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

I heard the front door close and looked at my clock. It was after eight. I heard Brian start his car and take off. Not long afterward I heard someone climb the stairs and walk toward my room.

There was a soft knock.

"Come in," I said.

Slowly my mom opened the door. "Is everything alright, Willow?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"I figured something had to be wrong for you not to eat some cake."

I shook my head. "I'm just tired."

"Okay," she said as she began to close my door.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Was Brian ever the principal over at Orchard?"

My mother looked at me curiously before she answered. "Yes, he used to be a few years ago."

"Why isn't he anymore?"

"He gave up the position for personal reasons."

I felt I had the right to know why. "What reasons?"

"Willow, I am not at liberty to discuss Brian's private career choices with you."

I got defensive. "I just wanted to know and think it's a fair question."

"Then you'll have to ask Brian next time you see him."

I quickly shook my head. "No. Forget it. I don't want to know that badly."

My mother shrugged her little shoulders. "Fine. It's up to you," she said before she shut my door and left.

I closed my Spanish textbook and grabbed my laptop. I needed a break and wanted to check out MyWeb. Just then, my phone rang. I quickly picked up without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, there!"

I smiled. "Hi, Michael. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, thanks. What are you up to?"

"Just taking a break from studying. What about you?"

"Working on a poem."

"What's it called?"

"It's a secret."

"That's an odd name for a poem." I giggled.

"Good one," Michael said enthusiastically. "Be patient. You'll find out soon enough."

"When will that be?"

"When you come visit me this weekend."

" _This_ weekend?" I asked.

"Remember. You said your mom would let you come and see me in Portland. I figure, the sooner, the better. I'd come there, but I don't want to have a set back."

"Ugh! My mom's going away for the weekend with that guy and leaving me here with my brother."

"Who's 'that guy'? You mean Brian?"

"Yeah, him.

"Give the poor guy a break, Willow. He's good to your mother, isn't he?"

I slowly nodded. "I guess, but how much does she really know about that guy?"

Michael cleared his throat loudly.

"I mean Brian."

"I don't know," Michael offered, "but it must be enough for her to feel it's okay to marry him."

I let out a deep sigh, a sigh I found myself resorting to a lot lately whenever the subject of my mom and her impending wedding came up. I needed to forget about the bride and groom and switch gears for a moment.

"I suppose I could sneak away for a little," I thought and said aloud. I quickly thought better of it and changed my mind. "Forget it. I can't leave James home alone. Remember what happened the last time I came to see you?"

Michael chuckled. "Did he end up calling 911?"

"No, thank God, but the house reeked of burnt popcorn for weeks!"

Michael and I both laughed. I wasn't about to tell him about the incident at the elementary school and the fact that I couldn't risk screwing up anymore. Not over the phone anyway.

"Bring him then."

"What? Bring my brother to see you on the mainland?"

"Sure! Why not? We can all go out to lunch. There's a great sandwich shop down the street, not too far from the pier."

"You sure?" I asked, full of doubt.

"Of course. I wouldn't even care if your mom and 'that guy' tagged along as long as I can see you."

I gave in. "Okay, but I gotta convince my pain-in-the-neck brother first."

"Doesn't he play Zombie Hunt?"

"Yeah, why?"

"'Cause the newest version goes on sale this Friday. Tell him you want to come to Portland on Saturday and you'll get it for him."

I nodded. "That just might work. How'd you know how to entice him?"

"I have a little brother, too, don't forget, and I've been known to slay a zombie or two in my youth."

"In your youth?" I asked playfully. "And when was that?"

"About eleven o'clock last night."

We both laughed. Michael and I talked until midnight. After we hung up, I was in a much better mood and no longer able to suppress my strong craving anymore. Ever so quietly, I snuck downstairs, crept into the kitchen and cut myself a big piece of delectable, chocolate cake.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-FIVE

Before I knew it, I was waking up on a cold, but sunny Saturday morning. The birds were chirping softly outside my window. They were probably happy to be basking in the warmth of the sun within the leafless trees, despite the frigid temperature. The weatherman said it was supposed to warm above freezing in the afternoon. James and I would just need to bundle up.

Because I was so excited for the weekend and hopeful that I'd be seeing Michael, the week flew right by. I couldn't wait to go into Portland and get together with him. We decided to meet at noon at the sandwich shop called Gina's. We didn't have any definite plans other than lunch. We'd walk around and shop and make sure to go to the gaming store for James.

I had waited until Friday night to tempt my brother with a video game. I wanted to wait until my mom and Brian left because I didn't want James to spill the beans by mistake. Luckily he jumped at the chance for me to buy him the newest Zombie game. I figured he would. Now I just needed to figure out how to increase the funds in my rapidly depleting bank account. The only solution was for me to start looking for a job... and soon.

I climbed out from the comforts of my warm bed and headed for the bathroom. I wanted to get showered so I could take my time getting ready. I already knew which outfit I was going to wear; my favorite LE jeans, UGG boots and a cute, green sweater under my North Face. I would also straighten my hair and wear some pretty blue eyeliner and mascara to show off my eyes.

I was afraid this day would not happen. I was so nervous during the week that my mom would somehow find out about my stupidity on Saturday night. Brian had assured me she wouldn't unless he felt the need to tell her, of course. Who died and made him God, I wanted to know?

Either way, she never did confront me and I forced myself to be extra sweet whenever I was with her. I even gave her a big, long hug before she and Brian took off on Friday night.

"Now remember, Willow, there's dinner in the fridge for tomorrow night and money for take out, too."

"I know. Thanks, Mom."

Brian walked out and carried her suitcase to his car. "No friends here and no going over to your friend's houses." She looked at me sternly. "Understand?"

I nodded obediently. "Yes, Mom."

"Okay. We'll be home around dinner time on Sunday, but call me if you need anything."

"I will."

We kissed and hugged each other. And, just like that, my mother turned and drove off with her fiancé so his eager family could meet the blushing bride-to-be.

• • •

James woke up while I was in the shower, headed downstairs and got himself some breakfast. I wasn't sure how to explain to my brother who Michael Cooper was once we met up with him; a friend, a schoolmate, a pen pal or a boyfriend. A boyfriend? I couldn't believe I actually considered that for one moment. Michael wasn't my boyfriend. Not even close. We hardly saw each other, only held hands a couple of times and never even shared a kiss.

I decided to wait and just pretend that we ran into Michael once we got to the sandwich shop. Hopefully James wouldn't be able to see through my lie. I'd have to put on the best theatrical performance of my life.

Once I was ready, James and I walked to the dock to board the ferry. It was really cold outside, but I stopped James from complaining by telling him how lucky he was to be the first of his friends to have the cool, new game.

The ferry ride seemed to take longer than usual. I think it was because I was so excited, yet anxious at the same time, to see Michael. I had imagined our rendezvous all week long, daydreaming during classes and choosing to eat in the lunchroom all by myself so no one would have the chance to interrupt my reverie.

I avoided Tessa and even refused her invitation to sit at the jock table with Connor and Rocky. Somehow she got past being mad at Connor, even though she was not able to see him outside of school. It seemed as though Tessa was going stir crazy since Rocky and Connor got grounded. They were her connection to all the wild parties on the island and now she was cut off from each and every one of them.

On Friday night, Tessa called and asked me if I wanted to hang out with her on Saturday night, just the two of us at her house. I told her I couldn't because my mom was out of town and I would be doubly screwed if I slipped up even a bit. I didn't tell her that I was meeting up with Michael. Even though I knew it was wrong, I didn't feel like I was really betraying my mom. She told me not to have friends over and not to go over to a friend's house. She didn't say that I couldn't go somewhere to meet them.

"Does your mom know what happened?" Tessa had asked.

"Not yet," I had said.

"Then what's the big deal? She won't find out if she hasn't by now."

"That's the point. If I mess up at all, she will find out for sure."

"How?"

"Never mind how," I had said before making up an excuse so I could quickly hang up. I didn't want to tell her about Brian and his threat. "Gotta use the bathroom. Bye!"

The boat pulled into the harbor with time to spare. It was only 11:30. I took out my cell phone and read the directions to the restaurant. I needed to know which way to head once we got off. James was completely engrossed in his Nintendo DS and unaware that we were in Portland. I stood up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

"Awww. Come on, Willow. I can't stop now. I almost got all my superpowers back."

I grabbed the DS from his hand and turned it off.

"Hey!" he screamed. People turned to stare.

I bent down and warned him through clenched teeth. "If you give me a hard time, James, you're not getting any game today or even your DS back." As an afterthought I added, "And I won't buy you any food either."

James huffed and stomped, but quickly followed me off the ferry as we made our way toward the delicious sandwich shop where a boy, who was too sick to come and see me, was hopefully waiting.

• • •

I checked the street address once again, #65. I realized we were close by and saw a big sign up ahead written in bold, red letters, Gina's Deli.

I felt myself getting more and more nervous with each step as we approached the front entrance. What if Michael wasn't inside? How long should I stick around and wait for him?

Just as I was about to open the door, a man barged out of it and whacked me in the foot. I screamed out in pain and tried to shake it off. Everyone inside turned and stared at me. The man apologized profusely. I was so embarrassed. I told him I was all right and forced James to walk inside before me.

I looked around, but didn't see Michael. James tugged on my coat. "Can we get something to eat now?"

I scanned the deli again before answering. Still no sign of him. "Sure," I said. I figured we might as well grab lunch and warmth while we could.

The sandwich shop was small, but quaint and smelled delicious. Italy's flag dangled in one corner, while Italian music played overhead. James and I stood in line and read the menu, which was written on a giant chalkboard that hung above the deli counter.

"What are you gonna get?" I asked my brother.

"I dunno. Everything sounds so good."

"Well you gotta decide. Fast."

"Next!" the chubby man behind the counter yelled. It was our turn to order.

"James! What do you want?" I needed his answer immediately.

"Umm..."

I spoke up. "I'll have a ham and Swiss on a hard roll with lettuce and mayo and my brother will have..."

I poked James. "I'll have the meatball grinder, please."

He wrote down our order. "Anything else?"

I was just about to say, "No thanks," but only managed to squeak out a "No," when someone interrupted me.

"Yeah. I'll have an Italian combo sub, hold the onions and a roast beef sandwich with mustard on a hard roll, please." I turned to find Michael standing next to me. He finished ordering as he casually slipped his hand around my waist.

"That it?" the man asked slightly annoyed.

Michael looked at me. I nodded. "That's all, sir," he said.

I was stunned to see Michael and when I looked up at him, again, he grinned from ear to ear.

"Where'd you come from?"

He pointed to the front door. "From over there."

I smiled. "I didn't realize you ate so much."

"It's not all for me," he said.

"Huh?" I was confused.

Michael turned and yelled, "Kevin!"

A little blonde boy, who stood against a wall near the front door playing a Nintendo DS, stopped and looked up at Michael. "What?"

"Grab us a table, buddy."

"Okay," the boy smiled and said as he rushed to an open spot next to the big picture window.

"Who's that?"

"My brother, Kevin."

Michael could tell I was surprised. "He's only a year younger than James and I figured I might as well bring him along so he could entertain him."

He leaned in and whispered into my ear. "Keeps them out of our hair," Michael paused and looked back at me.

"Well, at least your pretty tresses," he said as ran his fingers through the ends of mine.

I felt shaky and weak in the knees and at that very moment, forgot that anyone else was in the little deli. The sandwich maker thought otherwise.

"Hey, you!" he yelled to the two of us. "Your order's up!"

Michael turned from me and grabbed the tray of sandwiches with one hand and took my hand with the other. Caught up in his game, once again, James followed us to the table while I tried to decide what I was going to tell my little brother about the boy who made me tingle from the top of my head to the tips of my toes whenever I was near him.

• • •

Michael treated us to lunch, insisting that he was the one who had invited me. That made it seem like a real date to me. I wondered if Michael thought so, too.

My brother and I devoured our sandwiches as if we hadn't eaten in days. I noticed that Michael only picked at his food. James and Kevin were shy at first with one another, but soon opened up when they discovered they brought the same Mario DS game with them. After that, we couldn't have gotten them to stop talking even if we had wanted to.

After we cleared the table, Michael and I sat and relaxed while the boys sat, side-by-side, hunched over their handheld entertainment devices.

Michael looked good and healthy, even better than when he had shown up at school. He turned to cough.

"How you feeling?" I asked.

"Pretty good," he said.

I trusted that he did because he looked cuter than ever. His hair was still short and his cheeks were nice and pink. And unlike his normally all-black attire, Michael wore a maroon, long-sleeved polo shirt, a nice pair of jeans and preppy boat shoes. I smiled to myself when I realized he got all dressed up for me.

"What's so funny?" he wanted to know.

I tried to be serious. "Nothing." I couldn't fault him. I had taken extra time and care to look good for him, too. Michael read my mind.

"You look very pretty today, Willow," he said as he grabbed my hand across the table and held it. "Actually, you always look pretty."

Michael always complimented me. I smiled at him and looked over at our brothers. Thankfully they were oblivious and completely absorbed in their games.

"Do you have anything special you want to get today?" I asked.

"Just your love," he whispered as he locked eyes with mine and caressed my hand.

I felt uncomfortable and stared out the picture window onto the hustle and bustle beyond. Snow fell lightly on the sidewalks as pedestrians scurried past us.

Abruptly, I pulled my hand back and stood up. "Let's go."

"Where to?" Michael asked.

"I gotta buy James the game and I want to go to that boutique where I bought my jeans," I answered nervously.

"Sounds good," Michael said as he, too, stood up. "Come on, guys. We're leaving."

James and Kevin rose, but continued to chat and play their games. I zipped up my jacket, made a beeline for the door and left the others in my wake, hoping to forget what Michael had just said and wondering what in the world would have possessed him to utter the "L" word to me.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-SIX

We were inside the trendy boutique, Salsa, and I could tell Michael wanted to say something. I held a summery, floral-print shirt up in front of me and checked out my reflection in a mirror. I liked it and thought about buying it. First, though, I had to make sure I had enough money left after paying for James's game.

Michael and I left our younger brothers in the gaming store, which was only two shops away from the boutique. The boys promised they would stay together, wouldn't leave the store and wouldn't talk to any strangers. They had moaned when we told them we wanted to check out some other shops. Michael and I figured out, this way, we could have the best of both worlds.

Michael had ruffled Kevin's hair. "Now, remember, stay together, look around and we'll be back to get you guys in one hour."

"Okay," Kevin had said.

I looked at my brother and was overly stern with him. "You understand, James?"

James rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am, I understand."

"Ma'am? Since when do you call me ma'am?" I wanted to know.

"Since you're acting like one!" James huffed and turned and walked away. Kevin shrugged his shoulders and followed my brother.

Since Salsa only sold women's clothing, Michael followed me around like a cute, little puppy dog.

"I like that shirt," Michael volunteered, "although I have a feeling you'd look good in just about anything."

"Thanks." I smiled and continued shopping. I started to grab another shirt to add to my armload of potential purchases when Michael stopped me. He put the blouse back on the rack and took my free hand.

I was confused. "What are you doing?"

"Listen. I could tell you got freaked out back there, in the restaurant, when I said that to you."

I was about to ask him what he was talking about, but then it dawned on me. He was referring to his earlier statement when he said all he wanted to get today was my love.

I played dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Now it was Michael's turn to be confused. "You don't? But you've been acting weird ever since I said it."

I grabbed the shirt off the rack and continued to sift through more. "Again, I don't know what you're talking about."

I was so uncomfortable talking to Michael about what he had said. How could he say he wanted my love when I didn't even know him that well, nor he me, for that matter?

He kept following me so closely, almost tripping on my heels, but didn't say anything.

Finally I stopped and turned toward him. Frustrated I blurted out, "Why me, Michael? Of all people, why did you pick me?"

For once Michael was speechless. The boy who wrote and recited poems so easily, who was so good with words and their meanings, was suddenly at a loss for them.

He furrowed his brow, looked down and finally spoke. "I dunno, Willow. At first, I guess it was because you were new in school and you didn't know any better."

Michael looked at me and was solemn. "I didn't want you to think of me as the poor, sick kid, like everyone else, but then we talked and I got to know you better and you really got me and I really started to like you and..."

Michael trailed off and shook his head. "I don't know. I can't explain why I was drawn to you."

Michael continued. "And then once I found out how tragically you lost your father, I was determined more than ever to be normal to you."

I softened and felt sorry for him. Michael seemed like an old soul, a lost one at times. I took his hand. "You don't have to try and be anything but yourself for me, Michael. You are normal," I thought about it and wrinkled my nose, "whatever _normal_ is."

Michael's mood lifted and he smiled. "I guess that's true. How would you define normal anyway?"

All of a sudden we heard someone scream, "Michael!"

We turned toward the front of the store and saw Kevin running toward us.

"What?" Michael asked when Kevin finally reached us. "What's wrong?"

Kevin looked up at the two of us, his eyes filled with dread. He quickly caught his breath and said, "I can't find James."

Kevin turned and pointed to me. "I lost your brother!"

• • •

"Slow down," Michael insisted. "What do you mean your lost Willow's brother?"

"He was next to me one minute and then gone the next. I searched the whole store and he's missing."

I threw down my armful of clothes on the nearest chair. "Let's go back to make sure he's not there."

I led the way as Michael and Kevin followed. The snow was really coming down as we made our way to the other store. I was frantic to say the least. I couldn't imagine where James was, especially when we gave both him and Kevin explicit instructions to stay together and not leave. It seemed like it took forever to reach the front door of the gaming superstore.

I burst inside and scanned the large space. Racks upon racks of video games were scattered throughout. I couldn't see through the merchandise-covered racks and James wasn't tall enough to be visible above them. I ran from one end of the store to the other, maneuvering through the aisles as if in a giant, plastic maze.

I was panicking like never before. I would be beyond punished if I lost my brother. I'd have to go home, pack my things and move out for sure. My mother would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.

As I began to run even faster and call out his name, my head filled with images of James being kidnapped by some perverted child molester. I didn't even know where Michael and Kevin were. Had they followed me or gone in a different direction? I didn't care. I needed to find my brother.

I began sprinting when I heard someone yell my name. "Willow!"

It was Michael. He stood at the back of the huge store waving his arms to me. "Over here," he shouted.

I ran toward Michael and found James standing beside him next to a long row of cash registers. At first I was relieved because my brother was safe and then I became angry because he almost caused me to have a heart attack.

I took James by the shoulders and shook him. "Where were you?"

"I went in the back room with the worker," he pointed to a girl about my age standing a few feet away from us behind the service desk. The girl and her multiple piercings, waved to me.

"Sorry," she said and continued to ring out customers.

"Why would you go back there with a stranger and not tell Kevin?"

"The girl asked me if I wanted to see where all the new games are kept before anyone else can buy them. Plus, I told Kevin I was going," James said.

"No you didn't!" Kevin insisted.

"Yes I did. Remember, we were looking at the used DS games over there," James pointed to another part of the store, "and I told you I would be right back. Remember?"

You could see the wheels turning in Kevin's little blonde head as he remembered. "Well... maybe you did."

"See!" James exclaimed. "I told you I told him!"

"At least everybody's safe and sound," Michael said.

Just then my cell phone rang. I read the caller ID. It was my mom. "It's my mother," I said to the others. "I'll let it go to voice mail."

James furrowed his brow and looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. "You probably should answer that."

Puzzled, I looked at my brother. "Why? I don't want mom to know we're not home."

"Too late," was all he said and lowered his head.

My big blue eyes became two little slits. "What do you mean it's too late?"

My phone kept ringing.

James wouldn't look up and started off slowly with his explanation. "The girl let me use the store phone and I kinda called mom just to ask her for your cell number..."

James quickly rambled through the rest of his stupid reasoning hoping it would have less of an impact, but it didn't, "... so I could call you to tell you I couldn't find Kevin when I came out from the back room. You told us not to leave and I got scared because I couldn't find him."

"That's because I was at the other store telling them you were gone," Kevin said defensively.

Michael patted Kevin's back. "Shhh."

My phone went to voice mail and then began ringing again. I couldn't bring myself to answer it. I put my hand up to my forehead and rubbed. I could feel a raging migraine coming on.

I took James by the shoulders again and held onto them tightly. "What exactly did you say to mom?"

"I just told her I wanted your cell phone number. I know mom's number. I don't know yours."

"Then what?"

"She asked where I was calling from, I told her it didn't matter and she said it most certainly did and why wasn't I with you."

You could tell from the look on James's face he knew we were both going to be in hot water. My cell phone finally stopped ringing, but it beeped telling me that I had a new text message.

I removed my phone from my pocket and read the text. It was from my mom. It said, "Call me immediately or else!"

I let out a deep sigh and reluctantly dialed my mother's phone number. I readied myself for a death-row sentence and a tongue lashing like never before.

• • •

For some reason my mom was whispering. I wasn't sure why. Maybe Brian was standing nearby or one of his family members whom my mother wanted to impress. "I don't know where you are or how you got there," she stated in a monotone that sounded unusually calm and rehearsed, "but you and your brother better get home immediately. Brian and I will finish up lunch here and head back afterward."

She hung up the phone without giving me a chance to explain myself. What good would it have done anyway? What would I have said to my mom, that I didn't disobey her really because I didn't have friends over or go to a friend's house like she instructed? There was no use in arguing that point. Leaving the house and dragging my brother along to meet up with Michael was wrong and I knew it.

Plus, I couldn't believe she and Brian were heading back to the island a day early. They weren't supposed to come home until the next day, Sunday. She would never forgive me for cutting her weekend short. I would just have to move out and wondered how long it would take for Michael and his family to realize that I broke into and started living in their abandoned summerhouse by the water.

I put my cell phone back in my pocket and joined the others near the front of the store.

"C'mon, James," I said to my brother as I grabbed the hood of his coat. "We gotta go."

He recoiled and broke free from my grasp. "Hey! What about the new Zombie Hunt? You said you would buy it for me!"

The expression on my face said it all, 'cause if looks could kill, James knew he'd be six feet under.

Michael took my arm. "Let Kevin and me walk you guys to the ferry."

"Fine," I said and headed out the door. The snow was really coming down now, big heavy snowflakes, which stuck to the four of us like moths to a flame.

By the time we reached the pier, we were all covered head to toe in freshly fallen snow. We looked like animated snowmen, magically brought to life like Frosty.

Michael stopped before we got to the platform and held onto a wooden post for support. He stayed by himself, bent over, and coughed like I had never heard a person cough before. I got scared and looked down at my brother. He looked concerned, too.

Kevin walked back toward his big brother and offered his little, gloved-hand for support. Michael took it, reluctantly, and smiled appreciatively at Kevin. Slowly he looked over at me and I could tell he was embarrassed. He didn't need to be. Michael was ill with a disease, a disease for which there was no cure. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I knew that's exactly what he didn't want. He was strong and proud and not the least bit interested in being the recipient of anyone's pity, especially mine.

Michael walked over to us just as the ferry pulled up to the dock and started unloading passengers.

He stood very close to me and took both of my hands in his. Michael's face was paler than ever and seemed to blend seamlessly with the soft, white snow that covered him. "Sorry you got into trouble."

I shrugged and looked down. "It's not your fault. I should've known better."

The boat blared its horn signaling a warning for its final boarding.

"I don't know when I'll be able to see you again," I said. "I'm not even sure I'll live to see the light of day after my mom gets home tonight."

Michael chuckled and threw his head back. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

The man started gathering the heavy ropes that held the ferry in place so he could leave the harbor. James called to me, "Come on, Willow! Hurry!"

I looked up into Michael's eyes. They did more than just look back at me. They penetrated me, delving deeply into my soul, as if it would be for the very last time.

"I gotta go," I managed and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Michael called. He unzipped his coat, reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. "Here. It's the poem I wrote you the other night."

Michael stuck the paper in the palm of my hand, but told me, "Don't let it freak you out."

I smiled at him, quickly stuck the note in my pocket and hopped on board with seconds to spare. The ferry revved its engine and steered away from the dock.

James and I went inside the warm cabin and closed the metal door securely behind us.

"Who was that guy, by the way?" James asked as he pulled out his DS.

"Just a friend," I answered as we walked toward open seats.

"He seemed like more than just a friend to me. I saw you making googly eyes at him," James said matter-of-factly right before he sat down and switched on his game.

I ignored his comment and stood, staring out the small, frosted window next to me. I tried to see beyond the heavy snowfall, but it blurred my vision and I was barely able to make out Michael's silhouette off in the distance.

I took my sleeve and wiped the condensation from the inside of the window in order to see better. For a few brief seconds the snow completely stopped coming down and I could clearly see Michael standing on the shore watching as the tired, old boat ferried me away from him and delivered me to a cold, remote island situated in the middle of nowhere.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-SEVEN

Pike's Island was completely blanketed in a thick layer of fluffy snow. From a distance it looked like a giant heap of whipped cream afloat in a cup of dark blue liquid. I hadn't realized just how much it had snowed because it didn't stick to the ground in Portland as shoppers walked up and down the streets, disturbing its final resting place.

As the ferry pulled up to the dock, I remembered I still had the note from Michael in my pocket. I had forgotten all about it because I was too preoccupied imagining the inevitable confrontation with my mother. Maybe it needn't be confrontational after all, I thought. I could just humbly agree with everything she said, accept every insult she hurled at me and not challenge her one bit as she prescribed a fitting punishment for me. That's what I would do. I'd shut my mouth and listen.

I took the note out and held the folded piece of paper in my fingers, but wouldn't open it. Why had Michael told me not to "freak out" when I read it? That made me more curious, but also frightened me at the same time.

The boat finally pulled into the harbor and hit the side of the dock with a thud, giving all the passengers a good jolt. I told James to put his game away in the deepest, driest pocket he had because it was going to be a long and wet walk home. I put Michael's note in the inside, front pocket of my jacket and hoped it would stay dry. I'd read it later when I was back in the safety of my room, in case I needed to climb into my bed to find solace beneath my big, warm comforter.

• • •

By the time we got home, James and I were soaking wet. It seemed to take us forever to walk through the deep snowdrifts that lined both sides of the streets.

My brother and I saturated the family room floor as we traipsed through it on our way to the kitchen and the tiny room off of it that served as a laundry room. James and I took turns stripping off all our clothes, boots and coats. We needed to get all of our clothing into the dryer. I went first because I wanted to hop in the shower and warm up. It felt like every inch of me was frostbitten, even though I knew it wasn't.

I let the hot water run over me as I stood directly under the shower nozzle. I reflected on the day and was filled with a slew of mixed emotions. I was happy on the one hand to have seen Michael and been able to spend a little time with him. We had never had a meal together before, although Michael didn't eat very much. It was nice to meet his little brother Kevin, too. He was so adorable and opposite from Michael in the looks department. Michael's hair and eyes were so dark, while Kevin was blonde and blue-eyed. I knew, though, that it was because Kevin was adopted.

I lathered my hair and thought back to what Michael had said to me about wanting my love. Of course it scared me. How could it not? And then he casually mentioned that I shouldn't let the note freak me out. The note! I totally forgot about the note! It was still in my coat pocket tumbling around in the dryer with the rest of the wet clothes.

I turned off the shower and dried myself off. As apprehensive as I had been earlier, I really wanted to read it now.

I went into my room and was searching for some cozy sweatpants and a sweatshirt to put on when I heard the front door close. At first I thought it was my brother and was about to yell down for him to stay inside. Then I heard voices, familiar voices and realized it was my mom and Brian. They were back and I was dead.

• • •

I didn't know what to do. I could stay in my room and try to find a hiding spot where no one could find me. I looked around the small space. That wasn't an option. Or I could go downstairs and deal with the messy situation.

I decided to take a deep breath and get the whole thing over with. I would plan for the worst and hope for the best.

I walked down the stairs. James sat in front of the television, as usual, still wrapped in the blanket he had used when he had taken off his soggy clothes.

I heard noise coming from the kitchen and realized my mom was in there. I closed my eyes as I walked toward it, hoping that her wrath would hurt less if I couldn't see it coming. I walked straight into a wall.

I opened my eyes and found my mom and Brian both staring at me. If they didn't think I was immature and irresponsible already, they did now.

I found my way into the kitchen, with my eyes open this time, looked at both of them and put my head down. "Hey."

"What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"

"I'm sorry."

"Willow, I specifically told you not to leave the house and yet you disobeyed me.

"No," I started to object, "you told me not to go to a friend's house and I—"

My mother cut me off and became irate. "You knew exactly what I meant!

"Besides," she continued, "the weather is terrible and you ventured out with your little brother in the middle of a nor'easter."

I didn't know what a nor'easter was, let alone that we were in the middle of one. I guessed that was another name for a bad storm.

My mom put away dry dishes as she continued her speech. Brian sat back and enjoyed the show. "It was almost impossible for Brian and me to get back here because of the snow. We didn't even finish having lunch because of you."

Yikes! Not only did my mother cut her weekend short because of me, she also cut her special luncheon short, too.

But then I thought about what she had just said. Did they come back early because of me or because of the storm? I wanted to ask her, but I remembered the advice I had given myself earlier about not saying anything, so I just stood and listened.

My mother slammed cabinet doors as she continued her tirade. "I should have forced you and your brother to come and meet Brian's family."

I couldn't hold back and calmly said, "I don't care if I ever meet them."

"Well, you'll have no choice but to meet them very soon at our wedding. In June."

My mother informed me of her wedding date as if she were a nurse reporting my vital signs. If so, my blood pressure would have plummeted immediately.

"This June?" I asked dumbfounded.

My mother nodded. She and Brian hadn't even known each other for a full year. How could she get married so soon to a man she hardly knew, to a man who could very well be harboring a secret girlfriend somewhere else on the island?

I felt as if I might get sick and my face must have spoken volumes.

Brian chimed in. "Willow, I love your mother very much."

My mother put down the dishcloth, walked over to Brian and stood protectively by his side.

Were they a team now? Team Mom-Bri against me?

I didn't know what to say. I was never going to accept that they were going to get married, whether it was this June or in June twenty years down the road.

With a wedding date set, apparently it was no longer up for discussion. My mother shifted her attention toward the real reason I was standing before the judge.

She started off slowly. "Willow, because of today and how you blatantly disobeyed me and," she stopped and, in a show of solidarity, rested her hand on Brian's shoulder. They looked at each other.

My mom continued, "The fact that you broke into Orchard Elementary and got caught by the police..."

My eyes widened with shock. I glared at Brian. "How could you?"

Brian remained calm and stared back. "You gave me no choice, Willow. I warned you."

My mom was stern and serious as she handed down my punishment. "You leave me no choice but to ground you for a very long time, Willow, until the end of the school year. If you're disobeying me at sixteen, what will you do when you're off to college? You need to control yourself now and stop making bad choices and stupid mistakes, mistakes that could cost you your future."

I was stunned and speechless. Only for a moment, though.

"Until the end of the school year?" I shouted. "That's over four months away! That's forever! How can you ground me forever?" So much for receiving my mother's terms quietly and graciously.

Brian piped in. "I think that's a fair punishment considering the crimes."

"Crimes? Crimes?" I asked dumbfounded. "Since when is taking a ferry over to the mainland a crime?"

"Breaking into a school and trespassing are crimes, Willow, felonies actually," Brian stated. He looked to my mother for support. With a slight nod of her head, she gave it to him.

I felt as though my back was up against the wall, like my life was over as my mom sided with Brian. Neither of them cared about what I was going through or how I was feeling.

"I don't care what you think!" I screamed at Brian. "You're not my father and never will be!"

I saw Brian flinch. I knew my words hurt him and I was glad.

"Willow!" my mother scolded. "Apologize this very minute."

"Never!" I yelled as I turned from the two of them and fled from the kitchen. This time I made sure to keep my eyes wide open, even as tears fell from them so I could avoid all obstacles in my way, as I ran to my room feeling overwhelmingly all alone, the most alone I'd ever felt before.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-EIGHT

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. My mom didn't come and check on me or offer me anything to eat for dinner. I couldn't have eaten anyway. I was too upset.

At one point I heard the front door close. I snuck down to my mother's bedroom and looked out her window. I watched as Brian climbed into his car and drove off. He almost didn't make it down the road as the snow was really piling up outside. I was so thankful that he wasn't stuck at our house overnight.

I kept myself busy by working on my project and going onto MyWeb. At one point Michael called, but we didn't chat too long. He didn't sound good on the other end and coughed so much, he really couldn't talk. He just wanted to know that James and I made it home safely. I told him we did even though we were drenched and freezing when we finally did.

Before we hung up he asked me, "Did you read my note yet?"

"Uh, not yet," I said. I felt badly that I hadn't, but I explained to him how it ended up in the dryer and how I didn't want to go and get it while my mother was still downstairs.

"I'm gonna wait until my mom goes to bed. Then I'll find it."

"Sounds good," he managed before another coughing fit. "I'll call you tomorrow."

After we hung up, I quietly opened my bedroom door and looked down the hallway. I could see light seeping from under my mother's bedroom door and knew then that she was in there. I needed to slowly and stealthily creep past her door, down the stairs and into the laundry room so I could retrieve the infamous note.

I tiptoed as best I could and didn't make a sound, carefully avoiding the creaking floorboards. I made my way downstairs and saw that it was completely dark. I let the streetlights from outside guide me. I went into the kitchen and jumped back when I saw two little round balls glowing back at me. It was only my cat and her eyes as she sat curled up in a ball on the kitchen chair.

I walked by her and gave her a gentle stroke. I finally reached the laundry room and quietly opened the dryer. It was already cold inside the house and when I opened the dryer door, a rush of colder air welcomed me. I found my jacket and grabbed it. I reached inside my interior pocket and found the note. I took it out and examined it before I dared open it. It didn't seem to be ruined from being inside my wet coat or the hot dryer.

What could it possibly say that would freak me out? There was only one way to know. I unfolded it and read:

The beginning of forever starts right here,

So take my hand and walk with me, dear.

Let's find our way down a path toward love,

And fulfill all that you are dreaming of.

There it was again. The "L" word. No wonder Michael told me not to freak out. He saw how I reacted when we were in the deli when he merely said the word.

I rubbed the paper between my fingers and looked outside. I watched as the snow fell serenely from the sky and glistened beautifully when it finally settled underneath the glowing streetlights. The whiteness of it was so pure and undisturbed and seemed to mimic how I was feeling inside. I knew in that moment that Michael's feelings for me were honest and I felt at peace with it for the very first time.

I held the wrinkled piece of paper to my chest and headed back upstairs to the warmth of my room, to the warmth of my bed, to the warmth I felt in my heart because of a romantic boy and my first-ever love letter.

• • •

I woke up to someone forcefully nudging me awake. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and found my mother standing over me, still wearing her pajamas.

"Go back to sleep, Willow. I turned off your alarm. Church is cancelled because of the storm," she said. My mom was on a new kick to get us all to go back to church because of her upcoming nuptial.

"Okay," I said before I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. As hard as I tried, I couldn't fall back asleep. I was frustrated because it was only seven o'clock. I lay there and decided what to do. I could go downstairs and watch TV or I could stay in my warm bed and read.

I chose to stay in bed and read a new novel I had just bought. I read for about an hour and started to doze off when my cell phone beeped alerting me to a new text. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and read: "Mornin' sunshine. You up?"  
It was from Michael.

"Unfortunately, yes," I texted back. "How you feeling?"

"Not so good. Didn't sleep much."

"Why?"

"Feeling a little bit under the stormy weather. Do you think school will be cancelled tomorrow?"

"Probably."

"You psyched?"

"Not really. I'll be totally bored all day."

"Did you get in trouble with your mom?"

"Yup. I'm basically grounded for life."

"That sucks."

"Sure does."

"Did you read my note, yet?"

I hesitated before texting back. I had hoped he wouldn't ask me anything about the note. "Yes."

"And?"

"It was nice," I replied. I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to say more, but I didn't feel comfortable doing it over a text message. Even though I knew Michael really meant what he said and I was finally okay with it, I would rather talk about it in person, but because of my punishment, I wouldn't be seeing Michael or anyone else outside of school for a very long time.

It took a while for Michael to text back and when he did it was simply, "Oh."

"I gotta figure out a way to be able to get together with you before the end of the stupid school year." I thought this message would let him know that I wanted to see him.

"Once I'm feeling better, maybe I can meet up with you at school."

"Sounds good, but make sure you're better first."

"I will. I'm gonna go and try to get some sleep."

"Okay," I texted back.

"Bye."

"Bye."

I tossed my phone to the end of the bed and reread the note. Part of me felt badly, but what did Michael expect me to say to him? That I loved him? I wasn't one hundred percent sure what love was. I think I loved him, but I didn't want to text him my feelings and I didn't want to say it to him if he didn't feel it, too. He never did come out and tell me he loved me. It was one thing to write about love, but another to say it, face to face, to someone else. Granted he told me that he wanted my love when we were at the deli, but he never came out and said that he actually "loved me."

Plus, how much did I really know about Michael? He was sick with CF, lived in Portland and had a younger brother, a mother, father and a dog. Not much else really. And how was I to get to know him when we were both homebound; him because of his disease and me because of my own stupidity?

All of a sudden I felt tired and overwhelmed. I threw my book onto the floor, wrapped my comforter tightly around myself and tried to get comfortable. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream a dream that would provide me with the answers to all of life's questions. Very quickly I knew that this was completely unrealistic and decided to settle for just a few hours of peaceful, uninterrupted slumber.

• • •

I finally woke up and glanced at my alarm clock. It was noon and I was instantly ravenous. I heard noise coming from the kitchen and could hear my mom and brother talking in whispered voices.

I got dressed and headed downstairs. My mom and James were in the kitchen. My mom had made French toast and offered me some.

"Yes, please."

"Did you sleep in, Willow? James and I tried to be quiet so you could."

I nodded. "At first I wasn't able to go back to sleep, but finally did."

James pointed out the kitchen window and spoke with his mouth full of food. "Did you see all the snow?"

I hadn't and walked over to the window and looked out. I was stunned. I had never seen so much snow before. Ever. I turned to my mom. "How much fell during the night?"

"The TV weatherman said over three feet and we're close to breaking a record. Thank goodness I had milk, bread and eggs for you kids."

My mom served me two thick pieces of French toast and seemed to be in a rather good mood considering the night before. I was afraid she would yell at me for being so rude to Brian. I didn't care. It was the truth. He wasn't my dad and never would be.

I sat down, slathered butter and syrup on top of my food and gobbled up the delicious breakfast.

"Is there anymore?" James asked.

"Sorry dear, you ate it all," my mom answered. She put the frying pan into the sink to let it soak. "I'm going upstairs to take a shower. You two please finish cleaning up."

She brushed past me, then stopped and backed up. She looked me straight in the eyes and pointed to me. "You and I will be having a serious talk later."

I put my head down and continued to chew. I still had one more piece of French toast on my plate, but suddenly lost my appetite. I slid my plate over to James.

"Here. You can have it."

I should have known better that the yummy breakfast and cheery greeting from my mother would come at a price.

• • •

After James and I cleaned up the kitchen, I spent the rest of the day in my room. Every now and then I would look out my bedroom window and marvel at the amount of snow that had fallen and continued to tumble from the sky. It was now official. The snowfall had broken all records in Pike's Island's history. We were in the midst of a nor'easter, or what I liked to call a blizzard.

I finished my project, hopped on MyWeb and texted Michael. He didn't text me back right away, which was unusual, but maybe he was still sleeping, I figured.

I was afraid to go back downstairs. I didn't want to see my mother and hoped I could avoid the "talk" she wanted to have with me. Maybe if I stayed in my room long enough, she'd forget about it altogether. I was even willing to forgo food and drink for days and become a heap of skeletal remains so I could avoid talking to her.

I checked the time. It had been a couple of hours since I last texted Michael, so I did again. "Are you still sleeping, Mr. Sleepy Head?"

No response.

Worried, I checked out his MyWeb page, but didn't notice any new entries. The only thing he had changed recently was the quote under his profile picture. It said: "The name of a tree, the beauty of a rainbow, and the soul of an angel." I knew that he meant it for me and I smiled when I read it.

I wondered if he was mad at me for not saying more about the poem earlier. At least I told him that I wanted to see him. When we finally did meet up, I would make a point to talk to him about the note. Maybe I'd even call him and discuss it later tonight, but definitely not now over a text message.

I heard light footsteps and then a knock on my door.

I gulped. "Come in."

It was James. "Mom said come down now if you want dinner."

I panicked and quickly rubbed my belly. "Tell her my stomach really hurts, but maybe in a little while."

"Kay," he said before closing the door.

That was a close one, I thought, but, realistically, how long was I going to be able to avoid being in the same room with my mother? I had to see her eventually, especially since we were stuck in the same house together in the middle of a huge snowstorm. Plus, I was getting kinda hungry.

Then I remembered I had some granola bars in my top dresser drawer. I got up too see how many. I counted seven. I figured I could have one tonight for dinner and two more each day thereafter. I could sneak into the bathroom for water or carefully open my bedroom window and scoop some snow off the ledge and slowly let it melt in cup I already had in my room. I did the calculation in my head. That would bide me only three more days to be able to steer clear of my mom. What the heck was I going to do after that?

I guessed I would just have to cross that snow-covered bridge when I came to it. For now I was going to chow down on my fruit and nut bar, which might very well turn out to be one of the last meals of my life.

• • •

The night dragged on as the snow continued to drop. Everyone's MyWeb page said that school was going to be cancelled the next day. I went to the school's website and read that it would, in fact, be closed. I got cozy, read more of my novel and started feeling sleepy. I was surprised since it was only seven.

I put my book down and started to worry again because I still hadn't heard from Michael, even after I had attempted to call his cell phone an hour earlier. It had gone right to voice mail, so I left him a message. As I lay there, I tried to come up with reasons why he wasn't getting back to me. It was so unlike him. Normally, if Michael wasn't able to call me back right away, he'd usually text me saying he'd call me later. It had been over eleven hours and I hadn't heard a word from him.

Just then I heard footsteps coming again, only this time they were louder and heavier than before. I knew what it meant. It was my mother.

I quickly slid my book away from me, got on my side and laid still. I heard a soft knock on the door and then someone open it. I smelled my mom's perfume before she even entered.

She walked over to my bed and I could tell she was peering down at me. It took everything in me to keep my eyes closed and pretend I was asleep. Luckily my mom was a big believer in sleep, especially with kids and teens. She felt that we didn't get enough as it was and said our growing minds and bodies needed a lot of it. I was thankful for her convictions at that moment and was certain she wouldn't try to wake me.

I relaxed as best I could and snored my finest, fake snore. Finally I heard my mom quietly leave the room. I slowly opened my eyes, breathed a real sigh of relief and realized that I was safe. For now.

##   CHAPTER  
THIRTY-NINE

I had done such a convincing acting job the night before when I forced myself to relax, that when I rested my eyes for a split second, I had fallen asleep for the rest of the night. I awoke early the next morning feeling refreshed and energetic. Snow and frost covered my bedroom window, yet the soft glow of the winter's sun streamed ambitiously through it.

I didn't remember any of my dreams or even if I had had any. I just knew that I felt good and was hopeful that we'd be able to go to school the next day so I could finally be reintroduced to civilization.

I checked my cell phone. No word from Michael. I'd text him in a little while. I slowly opened my bedroom door and found the rest of the house quiet. Thank God my brother and mother were still sleeping. I was really hungry at this point, so I snuck downstairs, made myself a waffle and turned on the television.

Every local news station was reporting about the snowstorm, even calling it the blizzard of the century. They showed footage of the northeast and the record-breaking amounts of snow left behind. Like the rest of Maine, Pike's Island was paralyzed by the sheer volume of the fluffy white stuff.

I could hear the plow outside on the road in front of our house. At least the snow had stopped falling and the town could start cleaning up. We should be able to go to school the next day, I figured.

My cell phone beeped and I quickly took it out of my pocket to read the text. I hoped it was from Michael, but it wasn't. It was from Tessa.

"You alive?" she texted.

"Barely."

"Snow sucks!"

"I know."

"School tomorrow?" she asked.

"Probably."

"Cool. Get's me out of being in this insane asylum with my family."

I chuckled at her text. I guessed no one enjoyed being stuck inside their house with their family. I heard my mother stirring upstairs. I panicked. "Gotta go. Text you later."

I ran into the kitchen, put my empty plate in the sink and headed for my sanctuary so that I could avoid any and all contact with my mom for as long as possible.

• • •

Thankfully, I heard my mother go downstairs. She must have thought I was still sleeping. I had gotten under my covers just in case she decided to come and check on me.

I scanned Michael's MyWeb and saw that nothing had changed. I called and texted him again and got no answer. I was really starting to worry. Michael would have gotten back to me by now, unless something was really wrong with him. He hadn't sounded good the last time we spoke, which had been over twenty-four hours earlier.

I tried to look up his home phone number on the Internet, but it didn't show any listing for Anthony Cooper, Michael's father, in Portland or on the island. For whatever reason, their number was unlisted. I didn't know what to do. What if he was really sick at home, or even worse, ended up in the hospital again? I didn't know why I was imagining the worst. It was probably because he hadn't gotten back to me and had wound up in the hospital so many times before.

Then I remembered that I had an old text that Michael had sent me a few weeks back when he was in the hospital, from his mom's cell phone.

I quickly found the text and his mom's number. I finally had a way to find out what was going on with Michael, but I was hesitant to text his mother. What would I say to her? Did she even know about me? I had to calm down and try to think of something to write because I was sick with worry.

I decided to keep it short and simple. I wrote: "Hi, I'm a friend of your son, Michael. I was just wondering how he is doing because I haven't heard from him in a while. Thanks, Willow."

I pressed the send button and felt better immediately. At least I now had some sort of connection to Michael. I just hoped that whatever I heard back was good news. Maybe Michael flushed his cell phone down the toilet and he completely forgot my number or he misplaced his laptop in a huge snow bank and, therefore, wasn't able to send me an e-mail. I sat on my bed and waited, knowing this was just wishful thinking. But, either way, I had to think positively.

As the positive thoughts entered my brain, I got a text message. I looked at the number and saw it was from Michael's mom. My heart dropped immediately. I was scared to read it, but didn't have a choice. I opened it. It said: "Hi, Willow. Michael is in Maine Medical Center, not doing well. He wanted me to tell you this and that he is sorry he hasn't called you. He will contact you if and when he can. Mrs. Cooper."

Oh my God. What did she mean Michael wasn't doing well? Was he so terribly sick that he wasn't able to call or text me himself? He must be and I started to panic and freak out, especially because she wrote that he'd contact me "if he can."

Should I write the mother back and ask her what she meant by that or ask for more specifics on how badly he was doing? No. I couldn't do that. I didn't even know her. I was sure Mrs. Cooper wouldn't appreciate some little friend of her son's bombarding her with text messages, as he lay ill in the hospital. Answering my questions was not her priority.

I got off my bed and paced. What should I do? I looked outside and saw that snow was everywhere. Even though the plow had come by, the road still looked covered by it. Maybe I could pay a taxi to drive me to the dock and I could take a ferry over to the hospital. At this point the taxi would have to be a monster truck with four-wheel drive. So much for that idea.

Another plan popped into my head, but I knew it would never happen. Never. I had avoided her like she was worse than the plague, so I couldn't imagine that she would give me a lift to the dock, especially since I was grounded from everything in life but school. I figured even the desire to visit a seriously ill friend would not help grant me an early acquittal.

But I also realized that I had no other choice. I would break down and ask my mom for a ride, even though I was certain that hell had a better chance of experiencing our latest snowstorm than of her ever saying, "Yes."

• • •

"Are you joking?" she asked as she sat on the sofa and stared up at me.

I shook my head and looked down. My mom's response wasn't as bad as I had thought. I expected at least a couple of expletives.

"You're punished. And even if you weren't, the roads are not drivable."

"Yes they are, Mom. Look outside. The big plow just went by again. And you have four-wheel drive on the Jeep."

My mom shook her head before I even finished. "No, Willow. Not happening."

I got on the floor next to her and folded my hands. "Please, Mom. I'll shovel the driveway myself so you can pull out. Please. I promise I won't ask to go anywhere but the hospital today. Just today, Mom. Please?"

I looked at my mother pleadingly. I didn't know what else to do. How could she deny me visiting my friend who was so sick? How could I convince her to let me see him especially since I wasn't sure whether or not Michael was going to be okay? What if he was really bad off and sicker than I could imagine?

My mom didn't answer me, only stared straight ahead at the television. I started to cry. I was overcome with sadness for a very sick boy whom I wasn't able to talk to, for a very sick boy who wrote me a lovely poem and when he asked my opinion, I only told him it was "nice."

"Stop crying, Willow, and stand up," my mom demanded.

I couldn't do either. I was frozen in place and sobbing, overcome with feelings of helplessness.

"Willow Ann Flynn! Stop crying this moment!" she yelled.

Slowly I got up from the floor, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and turned to my mother. I was more sad than mad when I asked her, "How can you deny me seeing Michael when he might very well die today?" I couldn't believe I said it out loud. I guess deep down that is what I feared. What if Michael did die today?

"You don't know for a fact that he is that sick, Willow."

"Yeah, and I'll never be able to find out unless I go," I quietly answered as I wiped my nose.

My mother thought about it, actually contemplated it for a second and I could tell she was about to say, "No."

I stopped her in her tracks when I managed, "I was never able to say good-bye to Daddy." I lowered my head and began to cry again, slow desperate sobs this time. I couldn't compose myself or catch my breath. My body heaved with sorrow. I hung onto a chair for support. I felt powerless with no other options. I didn't want to miss the chance to tell Michael how much I cared about him, especially before it was too late.

I tried to control myself, but couldn't until I heard my mother start to speak. All those poor sinners in hell must have been completely stunned as snow began to fall upon them when my mother looked at me and said, "Go and grab two shovels."

##   CHAPTER  
FORTY

James insisted he was old enough to stay home while my mom braved the storm in an attempt to drive me to the dock. I knew he just wanted to stay home and have the TV all to himself.

It took my mom and me almost an hour to shovel the snow from around her Jeep, just so she could back out into the road. The snowplow had pushed a ton of snow onto our driveway, blocking the end of it. When we finally finished, we hopped inside the warm, defrosted car and headed out.

Our road wasn't too snowy or slippery, but the further out we drove, the snowier and slicker it became. Even though my mom was driving slowly and cautiously, all of a sudden, we spun around and the front end of the Jeep ended slightly perched on top of a snow bank. My mom was visibly shaken by it. My heart was beating a little faster, too.

"I can't do this anymore, Willow. I'm a nervous wreck," she said as her white knuckles clung tightly to the steering wheel. My mother always hated driving in this kind of weather.

My mom put the car in reverse and tried to back out. Her rear tires spun and we didn't move an inch. She tried two more times, but we got nowhere.

She threw it into park. "That's it. We're stuck. We're gonna have to try to push it out."

No other cars were anywhere in sight. We'd have no choice but to try ourselves. We both climbed out and tried to push, but nothing.

My mom had a thought. "Willow, you push while I get inside and give it some gas."

We tried this a couple of times, but the tires just spun on top of the icy pavement.

I turned to her. "What are we gonna do?"

She shook her head. "Let me call Brian."

"Why?" I snapped. "What's he gonna do?"

"He can try to get us out of here. We have no other choice, Willow. We can't stay here all day."

I turned away toward the window and rolled my eyes as my mom called her fiancé. While my mother was grateful that her hero was coming to help his damsel in distress, all I could think about was Michael and the fact that I might not be able to reach him at all and fearful of what might happen if I didn't.

• • •

Brian finally found us. He pulled up in an unfamiliar, huge pickup truck. He walked over to my mom's side of the Jeep as she lowered her window.

"What were you two thinking? It's treacherous out here. No one should be out on the roads, especially you, Laura. I told you. You need four new tires on this thing," Brian scolded us like we were two of his misbehaving students.

"I know, you're right, but," my mom looked over at me, "can you please get Willow over to the dock? I'll wait here with the Jeep until you get back."

Brian looked annoyed, but relented. "Fine, get in," he said to me.

My mother grabbed my hand. "Call me when you get there. Are you sure the ferry is running today?"

"I'm sure," I said. "I already called."

She squeezed my hand and held onto it for a moment. "Be careful, Willow."

I smiled. "I will. I promise."

I climbed out of the car and said, "Thanks, Mom," before shutting the door. I walked over toward Brian and the big truck and as much as I didn't want to be alone with him, quickly realized that desperate times called for desperate measures. I just hoped ours would be the brief and the silent kind.

• • •

Brian drove as carefully as he could. "My neighbor was nice enough to let me borrow the truck to get you and your mom."

I didn't respond, just stared out the window in awe of the whiteness that surrounded us. Snow covered everything from the tops of trees to rooftops, even fully burying some small cars while on its journey from the clouds above.

I still didn't like Brian nor trust him and he, obviously, couldn't take a hint. He continued. "You know, Willow, I thought about what you said the other night, at your house. I realize that I'm not your father and would never try to be, but hopefully someday, I'll be more than just your mother's husband to you. I've told you this before, I love your mother dearly and care a great deal for you and your brother."

He got my attention, briefly, and I glanced over at him.

Brian turned and smiled at me, a genuine and thoughtful smile. "How can I not? You two are a huge part of your mother, probably the best part of her."

I studied Brian as he looked forward, scrutinizing the road in front of us, driving cautiously and on a mission to get me to a place I needed to be.

We finally reached the parking lot that led to the dock and even though only one of the lanes was plowed, Brian was able to maneuver down it. Luckily the ferry was already there and a handful of people were starting to board. Perfect timing.

Brian stopped the truck right near the entrance so I could safely climb out. I opened up the heavy metal door and was met with a blast of icy wind.

I turned to run for the ferry, but thought better of it and stopped. I decided to swallow my pride and break my silence. "Thank you," I said to Brian as I looked him directly in the eyes and meant it. "Thank you very much."

• • •

The ferry ride took a little longer than normal. The inside of the cabin seemed to be colder than normal, too. Maybe it just seemed colder because I was really nervous about going to the hospital and seeing Michael. I had never visited anyone in a hospital before and didn't know what to expect.

I hailed a cab, even though the hospital wasn't too far from the pier. I was in a hurry and didn't want to waste time walking.

It was no surprise that the city streets were fully plowed, creating mountain-sized snow banks on either side of them. Before I knew it, we pulled up to the entrance of Maine Medical Center. I paid the driver and got out. I walked inside the big and impressive hospital. I went up to the front desk and asked for the room number of Michael Cooper.

"Are you family?" the receptionist asked.

I shook my head. "No, just a friend."

She studied me for a minute before answering. "I'm not sure you'd be allowed to see him. I can send you up to his floor and there you'll have to ask the nurse in charge."

I nodded. "Okay."

She gave me a piece of paper with the number ten written on it. I followed the signs for the elevator and waited along with other visitors. All of a sudden I was overcome with heat and thought I might pass out. I leaned on the wall next to me for support. About a minute later, our elevator dinged and opened. Carefully, I followed the others on.

When I got to the tenth floor, I stepped off the elevator and was immediately hit with another blast of heat. Once again, I felt overwhelmed and shaky. As I walked, I held onto the railing along the wall until I found an area labeled "nurses station."

I cleared my throat to get the attention of a burly nurse. "Excuse me."

She looked up. "Can I help you?"

I explained to her that I was a friend of Michael's and wanted to see him. She told me he was very ill with pneumonia and that she'd need to ask permission from his mother first. She told me to wait near her desk while she went and checked. I took off my coat and tried to cool off.

I couldn't believe I got this close to Michael and might not be able to see him after all. What if his mother said no or what if he was too sick to have any visitors? His mother had never even met me before. She might think I was a stalker or a creeper for just showing up without being invited.

I heard many different sounds as I waited, mostly machines making beeping and whirring noises. I quickly became nauseated by the scent of disinfectant. I didn't think I could ever be a nurse, I concluded. I felt uneasy just standing in the hallway outside of the patients' rooms.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde, attractive, nicely dressed woman walking toward me. Where was the nurse and who was this woman?

"Hello, Willow," she said as she extended her hand. "I'm Mrs. Cooper. It is very nice to meet you."

I took her hand and shook. Her hand was cold and clammy. Immediately I saw traces of Michael in his mother's face. She was an older and more feminine version of her son.

"It's nice to meet you, too," I smiled.

"I understand you want to see Michael."

I nodded.

"Initially I said no when the nurse asked me, but Michael overheard us talking and he insisted you be allowed in to see him."

She smiled as she said this, but it wasn't genuine and she seemed cautious, as though my seeing her son was the last thing she wanted.

"I must warn you, he is very, very sick." She turned away from me, put her hand to her neck and got choked up. "Probably the sickest he's ever been."

I shook my head and slowly backed up. "I don't need to go in, then. I'll leave."

She reached forward and grabbed my arm. "No! Michael insisted!" She tried to compose herself. " _I_ insist you visit with him. Please."

I tilted my head and must have had a look of complete and utter confusion on my face.

Mrs. Cooper softened. "Please, Willow. Come with me and see my son. Even though we've never met until today, I've known about you for quite some time." She smiled and, this time, it was sincere. "Nothing would make Michael happier."

"Okay," I said softly as I followed Mrs. Cooper down the corridor to the room where her son lay, as sick as he'd ever been, wanting so desperately to see me, and I him.

• • •

Mrs. Cooper and I finally reached Michael's room, #1010. A sign outside the door read: M. COOPER. Michael's mother entered the hospital room while I lingered back inside the doorway. I was afraid to walk in and see him. His mother sensed my hesitancy and motioned me toward her. I braced myself and took a couple of steps forward.

Michael rested in bed. His eyes were closed and his head was slightly turned toward the big picture window. There was no sunlight anymore, just gray clouds and the dismal sky beyond.

I was wary of all the machines and the tubes and wires that were sticking out everywhere. They seemed to be either going into poor Michael or coming out of him somewhere.

An oxygen tube stuck out of Michael's nose and as he lay there, I saw his chest heave unnaturally as he struggled to breathe. I was so upset seeing him like this, I wanted to turn and run. I didn't have the chance. Michael's mother called softly to her oldest son. "Michael, honey? Are you awake?"

Michael opened his eyes and slowly turned his head toward his mother's voice. He saw me immediately and, when he did, his whole face lit up. His mother noticed.

"I'll leave you two alone," she said before she turned and walked out.

We both watched as his mother left. I turned to study Michael and wondered. How could he have gone from looking so healthy only a few days before to looking so sickly? I had never seen anyone ill with pneumonia before, especially someone with cystic fibrosis.

Even so, Michael suddenly had a small burst of energy and slid over. He patted the only free space on his hospital bed. Though I was filled with trepidation, I walked over to him and sat down beside him.

"Can you hand me that please?" he asked as he motioned to a Styrofoam cup filled with water on the nightstand next to me.

I gave him the cup. He took a long sip from it and handed it back. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I said and put it back on the table. I noticed another table across the room with a tray of food on it. I pointed to it. "Are you hungry, too?"

Michael looked at his untouched hospital food and joked. "I'll give you every last penny in my savings account if you eat every bite on that tray... without gagging."

"Is it that bad?" I asked, unaware of the terrible reputation of hospital food.

Michael grinned and nodded. "That bad."

Despite the fact that he was so ill, Michael still had that mischievousness in his eyes. And he still looked handsome, even as he lay there, so weak and vulnerable.

Michael winked at me as he took my hand and held it. He raised his arm toward the ceiling, while my hand remained safely in his.

"Look," he said. "Just like two pieces of a puzzle, our hands fit perfectly together."

I smiled in agreement, yet was alarmed by the grayish blue color of his fingernails. Michael abruptly let go of my hand, turned away and had a severe coughing fit. Exhausted, he laid his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

Michael looked so sick and defeated. He was so pale and frail and I couldn't bear to see him like that anymore. I wanted to get up and flee from the room and never come back. It was painful watching him suffer before my very eyes. I couldn't risk loving this boy who might die and leave me all alone. I turned away as tears welled up inside of me. I held them back as best I could. I did not want Michael to see me crying, to see the fear deep inside of me.

Michael turned his head toward me and slowly opened his eyes. He took my hand again and rubbed it. "What's wrong?"

I had to ask it. I couldn't keep it in any longer. I needed to know. "Are you going to die?" I stammered as a single tear escaped and rolled down my face.

Michael brushed it away with his thumb and looked into my moist, blue eyes before answering. He was thoughtful and said, "We are all dying, aren't we, Willow, from the very moment we are born?"

I burst into tears and laid my head on his shoulder. Michael was right. When I really thought about it, I realized that from the minute we entered this world, we embark on our own journeys down the path of life, a path that inevitably merges with the path of death.

Michael tried to console me as he ran his fingers through my hair. How ironic. Michael was comforting me, when I needed to be comforting him.

I sat up and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. I dried my eyes and nose.

"Hey," he said. "None of us knows when the end is near, so why waste time and be sad thinking about it?"

I sniffled. "I know."

"Sweet dreams, my dear, sweet dreams, you dare? Be done with dreams, and face your fear," he recited.

Stunned, I looked at Michael. That was it. That was the very first poem Michael sent to me in the form of a tiny paper airplane back in September.

"You remembered!"

He nodded. "It just came to me. We all need to face our fears, Willow. Otherwise, life isn't worth living."

Slowly I nodded and kept my head down. Michael was right. I was afraid of loving him, of loving anyone, especially after losing my father, but I would never know true love if I wasn't willing to take the chance and find out.

As if reading my thoughts, Michael carefully removed the oxygen tube from his nose and placed it under his pillow. It made a soft hissing sound. He took my other hand and spoke ever so quietly. "Come here."

Right away, the butterflies came. Michael pulled me toward him. The sick boy lying in the hospital bed raised his head toward mine and closed his eyes. I closed mine and somehow found his lips touching mine, the softest lips I had ever felt before, lingered on top of mine.

Michael gently took the back of my head in his hand and kissed me tenderly at first, and then more eagerly, as if it was the last kiss of his life. I felt his desperation and the passion from deep within in him. I cried as I kissed him back, as tears of contentedness fell from my face onto his.

The butterflies in my stomach flew away and were replaced with a sense of knowing, knowing in my gut that everything was going to be all right. I stopped crying, pulled back and looked at him. Michael opened his eyes and met my gaze. No words were needed. We both smiled and came together again as I shared my first real kiss with a boy I was finally getting to know.

##   EPILOGUE

As I straightened my hair, I studied my reflection in the mirror. I had moved to Pike's Island less than a year before, but felt as if I had lived there my whole life. I felt older and wiser than when I had first arrived. A lot could happen in a short amount of time, I realized, as I brushed my hair and fastened a clip with a delicate, red rose to the side of my head.

I turned from side to side and was happy with what I saw. I put on the least amount of makeup, only eyeliner and mascara, and looked naturally healthy because of my tan, which was a fringe benefit of the warm, summer weather.

I picked up the last poem that Michael had written me. It had its own special place on top of my vanity table. It read:

"Days will pass,

Lives will change,

Futures are uncertain.

But love remains the same,

It's timeless and unbroken,

And holds onto good times past.

Always remember me."

Michael

I put the poem back in its special spot and stood up. I slipped off my T-shirt and carefully put on my simple, black linen dress. My mind drifted back to the end of the school year as I did. To me, it seemed to finish off rather uneventfully. I kept to myself, studied, did all my homework and got straight As.

Eventually, my mom and I had the "talk." She read me the riot act and cautioned me that every decision I made had a consequence and it was possible that, someday, I could make a bad one that could be detrimental and irreversibly change my life forever. And, as promised, I was grounded until the end of the school year. I didn't fight it and after a while, almost relished the quiet and calmness that accompanied it, especially after hanging out with some crazy characters, including Tessa.

Tessa Anderson didn't stay idle for very long. Once she realized that I was going to be stuck at home for a very long time, she quickly and effortlessly found a replacement for me. Conveniently, about a week into my sentencing a new girl moved to the island. She was taller and thinner than me, but not as pretty, I felt. Nonetheless, she filled a void in Tessa's life and Tessa quickly took her under her wing and taught her the ropes of being a soph-whore-more at Portland High. Luckily for Tessa, the newbie seemed to be a quick study.

Connor and Rocky were easily cast aside as they were getting ready to graduate and move on to college. With the help of her new protégé, Tessa sought out the most popular, cute and athletic boys that reigned supreme in the junior class. Out with the old, in with the new.

While I would sit with a nice bunch of girls in the lunchroom, I'd watch as Taylor and Erica sat by themselves and continued to gossip and whisper about Tessa and her unsuspecting new friend. The two of them needed to get a life, I concluded, or at least get a clue and figure out what was really important.

• • •

All my fears for this day were for naught, I realized. I wasn't as scared or nervous like I had thought. I walked over to my full-length mirror and adjusted the matching thin black belt. I liked what I saw and was satisfied with the dress, which I hoped to never wear again.

I thought back to months earlier, when I had returned home from visiting Michael during the snowstorm, as he lay so sick in his hospital bed. I had walked through my front door and found my mother standing in the kitchen doorway, her small arms wide open, ready and waiting for me to fall into them.

I sobbed as she held me and, afterwards, we sat and talked for hours. I told her about Michael and how I felt about him. With as much sensitivity as she could, my mom told me that she felt the same way about Brian and she assured me that he would never, ever take the place of my father, her first true love. I wanted to believe her, but I had to get answers to some very important questions first.

Initially I was hesitant and didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings, but I took a deep breath and plowed ahead anyway. I told her about the suspicious woman I had seen Brian with in the store parking lot. My mother had chuckled at this, especially after I had described the "other woman."

Apparently it was Brian's older brother, Greg, who lived in New Hampshire, and his girlfriend, Christine, who lived on the island whom I saw. The two of them had met years earlier when Greg was staying with Brian. Greg was visiting Brian and his girlfriend when I saw them in the parking lot together. That was the reason my mom stayed home with James and it was the same night that I got into trouble with Tessa and the boys. My mom told me that Brian and Greg looked so much alike, they were often mistaken for one another or even twins.

Still, I wasn't done and needed more answers. "Why is it that Brian used to be a principal and now is only a teacher?" I had asked, as I thought back to what Connor and Rocky had said. "And what about the fact that he used to live with some lady!"

My mother gently took my hands, became serious and explained. "A long time ago, Brian did live with a woman. She got very ill and eventually died of cancer. Brian cared for her during this time and was devastated by the loss. He couldn't handle the stress that being a principal entailed, so he opted out of his job and took one as a fifth grade teacher instead. Eventually they offered him his job back, but he realized that his first love was teaching and that he had missed the classroom interaction with the kids."

I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Everything was so easily explained away. I really let my imagination get the best of me, but I couldn't help it. I hadn't liked Brian and would have found any excuse not to trust him. Plus, how many people had siblings who looked exactly like them? It had been an honest mistake on my part.

I lifted each foot and fastened a pair of pretty, black sandals with small, shiny rhinestones on the top. I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. I was home alone and the house seemed eerily quiet on the beautiful, sunny morning.

Princess was cozily curled up at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me when I got closer to her. I bent over and petted her softly.

"I'll see you later," I said.

I grabbed my mom's car keys off the side table and headed out the front door. I was going to drive by myself for the first time, actually the second time, even though I wasn't supposed to until I got my driver's license in two more months.

But this day was an exception and my mother said I was an excellent driver and to be very careful when I did drive off, especially because I was running late. A migraine had kept me in bed much longer than I had planned. At least I felt much better and only a dull headache remained.

Before I backed out of the driveway, I skimmed the directions and luckily knew exactly where I was going. I looked at myself in the small, rearview mirror and was glad that I remembered to wear waterproof mascara. I didn't want to cry, but if I did, I wanted to make sure my makeup didn't run down my face.

It only took me ten minutes to get to my destination. I parked the car and saw that others were there already. I climbed out and grabbed the flowers off the front seat next to me. I had to remind myself that I didn't need to be nervous.

I quickly walked to the hilltop, looked around and realized I wasn't as late as I had thought. I scanned the crowd and spotted Michael's mother. I would talk to her later.

I walked away from the others, toward the back of the event and finally found my mother. I hugged and kissed her. She hugged and kissed me back.

"How do you feel?" she asked me.

"Much better, thanks," I smiled. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said as her pretty green eyes sparkled.

I looked around. "Where's James?"

My mother seemed to panic for a split second until James suddenly appeared, animatedly playing his DS game.

"Put that away, now, James!" my mother scolded. "This is neither the time nor the place."

James looked up, flicked off the game and put it inside his coat pocket. Some things never changed.

"Do you have the rings?" my mom asked my brother.

"Oops!" he said and ran off.

My mother rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently. Even mad, she still looked beautiful.

James quickly came back holding a small silk pillow with two gold wedding bands pinned on top. Even though he was annoying, James was so cute in his little black suit.

"Sorry," he said.

"Ready?" I asked my mom again.

She smiled and nodded.

I casually stepped out from behind the white drape and subtly signaled to the string quartet at the very front. On cue, they began Wagner's Bridal Chorus.

Two guests pulled back the drapes and fastened them with satin ropes. James went first and looked anxious as he walked toward the protected altar, shaded by a weeping willow.

I quickly followed and tried to keep my nerves in check. I smiled at the small groups of people who sat on either side of the short aisle. The sun was still low in the sky and the air felt crisp and clean.

I reached the altar and turned to watch as my mother followed. She looked lovely in the vintage, ivory wedding dress, as real pearl pins held her wavy hair off of her neck. I looked over at Brian. He beamed as he watched her approach. His brother, Greg, stood by his side and served as his best man. I, of course, was the maid of honor.

I looked in the audience and again noticed Michael's mother and the empty chair next to her. She saw me and smiled. I smiled back. I couldn't believe how much Michael looked like her, especially when she smiled.

My mom reached us and took Brian's extended hand. Hers looked so small and delicate inside his. The preacher began his sermon and I anxiously scanned the crowd. Just then I saw him emerge from behind a row of chairs in the very back. He finished coughing and quietly crept forward. He ducked down as he moved to the empty seat beside his mother.

We locked eyes and smiled at one another. Michael looked so darn handsome in his light gray suit and red tie. Finally content, I turned and listened as the preacher spoke about compromise and faithfulness, forgiveness and eternal love, while standing on a hillside, overlooking the ocean, on an island, in the middle of nowhere.

##   ABOUT  
JULIE ANN KNUDSEN

Julie Ann Knudsen received her B.S. degree in Technical Writing from Clarkson University, but found that she preferred writing creatively, especially after penning the play for her children's drama club for many years. She lives with her husband and three children in Connecticut. Find her on the Web at julieannknudsen.com.
