1st Chapter: Introduction to the People and Stuff

"Trent, you need to clean house! Aunt Rachel's coming over!" he heard his mom yell from somewhere downstairs. But at the moment he was a little busy, as he had about a bazillion instrument magazines spread across his bedroom floor.

He had wanted a guitar for so long. He asked for one every Christmas and birthday since he was eleven. Now being sixteen, he has stopped expecting a guitar-shaped package under the cheap, plastic tree or on the kitchen counter top every present-giving holiday. Never the less, he was determined. He'd even work five hour-long days three days a week, tirelessly flipping hamburgers for his fat and happy fellow Americans for the money to buy himself one. But sadly his mother Fiona would never let him leave the house for a job outside of the homestead he must help uphold. And of course there just wasn't enough flexible expense money to buy an oh-so-pricey, wanna-be rock star electric guitar.

Nope, all that money was for the rent of the right half of a downtown duplex, and food for two very hungry teen boys, along with Fiona and her boyfriend Steve and any other minor necessities such as beer, cigarettes, whiskey, cigarettes, the occasional porno for Steve, -oh- and did I mention cigarettes? Obviously, there just wasn't enough money growing in the front yard to buy the public high school's dollar twenty-five lunches but Trent and his fraternal twin Jered had learned to accept their rank of importance on the budget over the years.

When he finally rose to his feet, he decided to clean the more highly trafficated rooms of the house such as, the living room and places of the like; the rooms that would probably get messed up before his Aunt Rachel would arrive. Even if the fact was that Steve had disguised the nearly spotless room as a post-tornado trailer park with his boots dragging dirt across the carpet, the food he'd drag in with him, his over shirt slung over the couch, and as small as their living room was, this created a total mess.

Lucky for Trent, today Steve had left because he hated Fiona's sister. He would say Rachel put ideas into her head, bad ideas. But Trent couldn't think any more polar. He thought she was thee coolest aunt anyone could ever hope or pray for. She was protective over her older sister, which vexed Steve to his very soul.

Trent cleaned quickly; for Rachel, drunk or sober, was never late.

Jered bebopped through the door with his track bag and jersey still on about quarter after seven. Trent acknowledged his brother's return with the daily question on how his day went. Most people when asked this question pass the question off with "fine" or "not bad, how 'bout yours?" but not these two. They'd actually retell what happened. But Trent usually had longer tales of his daily troubles (which we'll pick back up on later).

"...So now Sarah and Miguel are fighting about the 'Loretta Scandal'", Jered finished.

Although, Jered's spoiled, shallow friends didn't interest him much, he actively listened. Hearing about Jered's circle of popular friends gave him a sense of almost being apart of society. Obviously Trent was a loner.

Trent and Jered were different. Very different. In fact, Trent would bet the money he didn't have in his pockets that over two-thirds of the school didn't know they were twins. And they probably didn't. They were just that different.

Jered being in the school track was Fi and Trent's idea. They had a system that if Jered was home a little as possible he might turn out as normal as possible. And you could count on it that Jered was at every after-school activity available. And just another example of the boys being different, Trent was more of a stay-at-home kind of kid; he was never out. While Jered was a outgoing, popular guy with an almost nieve veiw of himself and others.

"Jered, go clean Moms room. Our room is done already so please dont mess it up with your track crap. Then when youre finished, which shouldnt take long because I already got the dirty clothes taken care of, come help me with the dishes, please."

"Kay," he responded in a happy-go-lucky manner but then more seriously, "Steves gone, right?"

Trent nodded. Then he drifted off into another daydream. He often daydreamed and usually of the same things. A) When Steve would suffer a cruel and unusually bloody torturing session then put out of his misery B)*think of this one said in a romantic undertone* When he would save the girl of his dreams in some heroic end-of-the-world scenario then, the two must repopulate the earth. And of course theres C but C didnt happen everyday, only on really bad days. C was, put in vague terms, death but in actuality was suicide. He had never attempted it. He just thought about in great detail every now and then. He always knew that it was wrong. Thats why he only jumped off the roof of school, took one of Steves guns out from under the bed, tried his noose on for size, drove the Bird of a cliff, downed a full bottle of "DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL" pills and take each tablet with a shot of liquor, or make toast in the bath tub, taught a boulder how to scuba dive while tied to his ankle, used bleach, wind shield wiper fluid, ammonia, antifreeze, and Cherry Coke (now thats what I call a suicide) to make a mixed drink, took up law enforcement and try to literally stop a speeding car on a highway, or took a cold shower with his clothes on, in igniter fluid and came to school with a box of matches always in his mind and let it stay there. He knew any of these were all a bad idea. But of course this only happened on really bad days.

2nd Chapter: Aunt Rachel

In his daze he did not realize aunt Rachel walked through the door to discover Trent staring out the kitchen window, washing dishes in a trance. He also hadn't realized that he had been handing her dishes to dry.

"Sun don't shine as bright over, does it?"

"WHAT??" Trent exclaimed surprized as he dropped and broke a glass. "Crap! Steve is going to get so pissed!"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"No." He said calmly. "It was my fault. I should have been paying attention. We just have to get a new one before Steve gets back."

"Why would you need a new one? It's not like that was your only glass."

"Because. Steve looks for things like this to bitch about. And I don't like to be the cause of the problem; believe it or not."

"Oh." she said understandly. "Okay then. I'll drive you to the store," she simpathetically offered. "Do you wanna let Jer tag along?". He satred blankly at her. "Your call," she added.

"No." he flatly answered.

"Allright then, let's go."

Trent hopped in the Oldsmobile(which justly deserved the title)parked just outside, along the sidewalk. He was glad to get out of the house for once, without having to go to school. Bouncing steadily out of the driveway, Rachel tried to stir up conversation.

"So, I hear from a...classified source that Steve has been more irritable latly."

"Pshh." He flipped his hand and the remark. "If by irritable you mean violent and psychotically paranoid then, yes. I mean, the guy nearly throttled me for releasing information from a pentagon of a house to the neighbors."

"What was it that you said?"

"This neighbor lady came to the front door and asked me if she could talk to Mom. And I told her that she was out getting groceries. So then she asked if there was some other adult there and I told her that my mom's boyfriend is here. But then I told her the horrific truth. DUN-DUN-DUUUUNNN...he was ASLEEP."

She laughed at him. "And yet you retain your sence of humour? But seriously now, I don't think you should take all his bull shit anymore. You're sixteen now and I know that you're strong enough to take him, maybe even when he's had a few, so he won't be able to react as fast."

Trent sighed as he stared at things go by in the passenger's window. "And I as well know I'm strong enough too. I've probably been strong enough since I was thirteen and smart enough since I was probably nine or ten. I mean, he's no Hulk Hogan to say the least. I've had every chance." Trent sqeezed his fists while he said the next thing. "Every time he hurts Mom, I feel like it's just another reason to kill him. But I haven't and I won't because that's one of those big, bad commandments. And that just seems like something Steve would do. And I don't want to be anything like him. The only reason that I'd ever even try to combat-combat?" he laughed at himself. "I mean, fight him was if he had Mom or Jered's life in immeadiate danger."

With a silent smile spread across her face she said, "You've got class, kid."

When they arrived back home Trent put the glass away. Then, quickly went up to his room for some "west and wewaxation". Jered was finishing up the dishes like he said he would. Racheal came up from behind him, tapped him on the shoulder, whisphered something into his ear, he nodded, and followed his brother's footsteps.

With the kitchen empty, Racheal sat down on a squeaky dinner table chair next to her older and only half sister.

3rd Chapter: Aunt Rachel Part II

"So. How are...things?"

"Just so peachy I could make a pie," she repiled not looking up from her book, which she had lost any real intrest in the moment she saw her sister walk through the door.

She studied her face for another few quiet moments. Then asked, "That bad?"

She put the book down and looked up to her with glassy eyes. "I think the nieghbors are catchin' on to us. We have way to many different people comming over everyday to not be suspisious. And I don't think they like us all that much to begin with." She explained to a readily listening younger sister. "I'm so scared that they'll get some damn cop on our tails again or start tapping our phone or somethin'. And they always complain about the noise when Steve and me are fightin' and arguin'. And that-that newly-wed, house wife, woman across the street is always comming over and wantin' to talk to me or Steve. Probably wants to talk about marrige cousleing but, we ain't even married but, that's besides the point. What am I going to do, Racheal? "

She shook her head and sighed heavily. She always had an answer to this perpetual question. "Leave." Fi made a rasberry at that sugestion. "Well, do you have anything better stored up in that delightful little coconut of yours?"

Silence.

"See. If you can't hink of anything better to do than leave the bastard, then maybe this is one of those miraculous signs from the great Heaven above that you should leave." Racheal had left Fiona feeling helpless. Then, she fianlly broke into tears and fell into her lap. Rachel, ignoring her great frustration for the time being, compastionatly stroked her sister's short, thin, strawberry blonde hair. "I-I don't underst-stand it but he's been s-slapping me around more often than usual." She began to calm as she felt comforted then, began to explain, " guess cause he's been under so much pressure and all. There seems to be alot more drug addicts in this town for some reason. And the boys, don't even get me started on the boys. Trent has been so depressed and I can't even help him . I mean, you can't really help someone if you yourself need it. And since they're twins, Jered ain't doin' so great either. It's weird. They've always been connected like that somehow; in some way that only they can understand."

"You know, I'd take you in and you and the boys could live wi-"

Fi got up and sat back in her chair. "I can't leave," she interupted.

"Why?"

"I just..can't."

Rachel leaned in toward Fi. "It doesn't and shouldn't have to be like this," she said quietly as if it were some secret.

"I know..."

"Then why do you stay?" she asked becomming agrivated with all these dead end questions.

"Because he needs me here." she explained. "With him."

"Why??" she moaned.

"He just does! Okay?"

Rachel said giving up, "Well, the boys shouldn't have to suffer through your mistakes. You should have just stayed with Tom. He loved you. I could tell. But nooo. Now, they render the consequences of having a mom who is too scared to leave her bastard boyfriend." She left her sister to go say goodbye to her two favorite nephews.

As she entered the room she noticed the boys were looking through some worn looking magazines. She made a surprize entrance by saying in tone like she had just caught them red handed. "What are you lookin' at?" They both jumped a little. "Pornograpgic paraphinallia?"

"Music catalogs," they repiled monotoniuosly in unison.

"Well, I just came up to say good bye and to remind you that you can consider my house a safe house if things get too hot down here, you know...in hell."

"Thanks," Trent grasiously excepted her offer.

They hugged and she left. As Rachel was flying down the stairs she ran into something (dun, dun duuunnn), Steve.

"Of all demons," she said under her breath.

"Oh. Hello, Rachel, glad to see you too," he replied trying to sound pleasant.

That alone was enough to set her off. "Dont give me that bull shit. I know what youve been up to." She snapped at him.

"I-I dont know what youre meaning," he said playing it cool.

"You know very well what I mean. I saw you the other night with that younger looking brunette. Oh! But dont I didnt tell her. She wouldnt believe me anyway." Now, if you can imagine a feisty toy-size poodle in a laid back Rotweilers face, do so because this is how it looked when these two went at it.

"Ive got her trained good, dont I?" he said smiling.

He just enraged Rachel even more with hearing his words come out of his mouth. She shoved her finger with candy apple red nails and said, "You wait-you just wait and see. Ill find Tom. I know he wouldnt do what you said he did. Ill get her back some day."

He grabbed her finger with his sweaty palms and let his nice guy mask fall and shatter to the floor. "But until then, shes mine." His words rolled out like an unholy fog. Rachel glared at him as if her stare just might kill him. She ripped her finger out of his hand and she began to storm down the stairs. "And Rachel," he said to her while he stopped trodding up the stairs. "The brunette? She wasnt my type anyway." She had nothing more to say to him with breaking into a violent outburst. Fortunately, this blind rage did not stop her from hugging and kissing her sister on the forehead before she sped her way home.

4th Chapter: We Meet the Villin

Fiona buried herself into the book she had been reading until later that night when she had finally mustered up the courage to go back up to her room and probably face Steves interrogation. He always did that after her sister left. He just wanted to make she wasnt taking any of Rachels running away ideas to her big, broken heart or getting anywhere near it. No she needed to stay, or at least not get out of this alive; she was way to far into it now.

Smoke drifted out of the master bedroom door as Fi slipped in. There he was again: sitting at the foot of the bed on the floor with his knees up and elbows resting on them, joint in between his thumb and first two fingers.

He didnt move. Just went about smoking whatever was left of his life. Fi denied his existence as well. She pulled out her neatly folded long nightshirt, which reminded her; she forgot to thank Trent for cleaning the house. She pulled off her shirt and to her surprise Steve didnt seem interested (not that her intent was at all sexual, she just wanted to go to sleep) or even take notice. She then let her pants slide off without unbuttoning them, with a tug at their sides. She pulled the over sized U.S. Navy shirt over her rib bearing abdomen. Then she slipped under the covers with a smile, thinking that he was too fried to remember Rachels visit.

"So, (*dammit*) what did you and sis chat about?"

"Nothing in particular tonight." She answered smoothly.

That set him off right there. "Dont lie to me! She got you thinking about something. I can tell by the way you came in. So tell me, what did you two talk about? And remember dont lie. I can see right through you."

"I just told you! Nothing!"

"Dont you raise your voice to me!"

"Then dont you raise your voice to me!"

"Do you need to be put back in line? Girl, youre about to cross me."

"Youve already crossed me!"

"Thats it. BOYS! GET IN HERE!"

When Jered and Trent heard Steve beckon them they put down their magazines and got up. Jered scurried his way into the bedroom just up the stairs. But he had to wait for Trent plod his way in. he dare not speak until he had the comfort of his twin at his side.

"Yes, Sir?" he squeaked. Steve smiled. He loved it when anyone or anything feared him. That may have been why he was a bit more lenient with Jered; he was down right scared of him. But what Trent did next would start a new chapter in all of their lives.

He crossed his arms, stood comfortably, left leg a little farther than his right, and spoke in the cockiest voice he could grasp. "What?"

His brothers jaw dropped. Fiona widened her eyes in disbelief. They all just starred at him with their own stunned expressions. Then, Fi and Jered looked to Steve to see what he was going to do about it.

Finally, after shaking his amazement off, he said, "I called you in here to teach you what happens when one of you steps out of line. But now it seems like you also need a lesson." Then looking over from Trent to Fi, he said while reeling his hand back in his classic clam killer tone "School's in session."

*Crack* was the sound it made as he slapped Fi across the face. Fiona squeaked at the sudden, hard shock. Her chin next to her shoulder and her strawberry-blonde was hanging over the big, red handprint on her cheek. And watching the few tears that cascaded down her cheek wouldn't ket Trent not feel anything but completly responsible.He hung his head so his long hair would cover his face. He felt the skin under his eyes become tight but he would never breakdown before Steve. His self-hatred boiled up inside of him.

Steve noticed Trent harnessed pain and just for the sake of science he did it again but harder and he took great pleasure in it as well. Fiona cried out in pain. Trent wrenched his eyes shut; despite his efforts of masculinity (otherwise known as a basic lack of emotion) one tear still leaked out. He felt a physical pain in the center of his chest, like his body was trying to eat itself to escape. No punishment that Steve had ever enforced was quite as harsh as this and Steve never laid a finger on him.

"You may now go," he said calmly.

"But you-," Jered stammered.

"I SAID you may now go."

Trent's glare burned deeply into Steve. He was so infuriated with rage that he didn't know what to do with himself. All that he ended up doing was giving the door a foot-sized hole and before that yell, "You bastard! You mother fucking bastard!"

But Steve didn't care. He was basking in his glory. His theory was proven without a shadow of a doubt.

Trent's weak spot: His mother.

5th Chapter: the Hole in the Wall and in Trent's Head

POMP-POMP-POMP-POMP-POMP

"Trent, stop it." Jered said.

"No." POMP-POMP-POMP-POMP

"Well, at least use the bed or a pillow! You'll bust a hole in the wall again! And then you'll be in more trouble!"

POMP-POMP "That's were we sleep." POMP-POMP "We don't need this wall." POMP-POMP-POMP-

POMP-POMP .....He got his fist stuck in the wall. "Whoops."

"I told you."

"No matter." He walked over to another empty part of the wall.

Jered got up off the bed and started comming toward him. "Trent, stop it!" He stood between the wall and Trent.

"Jered, move." He didn't. "Jered, I'm not in the mood for this. Move or I'll hit you too."

"No, you won't."

Trent glared at him and Jered glared right back. They both knew that he was lying. Trent turned around and sighed angrily and paced around the room. Jered smiled and sat back down on the bed.

Later that night, after he was sure Jered was asleep, Trent reached under their bed and took a cigar box that lied hidden from underneath. He held it under his arm and slipped out their window onto the roof.

His butt hit the damp roof with a bit of discomfort. He placed the old box before him. His finger lifted the lid and his hands took out a sheet of the thin phone book paper stored inside and ripped it in half. The marijuana in the small wooden box was sprinkled into a tiny, long hill along the center of the paper. Trent folded it in half, rolled it up, twisted the ends, and just to make sure none got out he licked the ends and along the fold a little. He opened the box again and got out a lighter. He scraped it along his pant leg and lit the joint in between his lips. He closed the lid of the lighter and took a deep breath. He slowly counted to five and blew the smoke out into the night's dark air.

He stared at the primitive looking cigarette and felt weaker than he'd ever felt in long time. And being weak scared Trent. He couldn't be weak. He had to stay strong for his mom. But even with that in mind, he still felt he was melting into a puddle. He was becomming dependant on something other his (God-given) inner strength and anything (to Trent) outside of himself was not dependable. He used to just come out on the roof with his box when things were almost unbareable but now he was comming out when he just felt lonely. And I can assure you this boy's been lonely for a long time.

His eyelids started to fill with tears and he angrily took long hit. He switched hands with the joint and rubbed his face stressfully with his free hand and tried to wipe the tears away. He took another hit while trying to hold back the tears. Trent took yet another draw and now it was like he was trying to get stoned faster to try and forget why he wanted to cry in the first place. But it wasn't working because he started to build a little bit of a tolerence to the marijuana and only one joint wouldn't put him in heaven anymore. He sucked it down to where he couldn't hold it anymore, thus, he made another. But this time on the first draw, he inhaled to his lungs full capacity and held it in for as long as he was able. As he held his breath, he felt like he was being compressed, like he could just feel the drug being absorbed into his body. And when the smoke drifted from the dragon's nose, the dragon lied on his back and sighed with great relief. He felt void. There were no tears because an empty jar can not leak.

Trent stared up into the stars, which seemed to be of all sorts of different colors tonight. His dad used to tell him about the stars and the thought of his father made Trent smile. He had many fond memories of his dad, Thomas Kruffton. Trent was the one that looked like his dad while Jered looked like a male version of Fiona, except for their eyes. Trent and Jered both had their father's brilliant emerald green eyes. They seemed so caring but the weren't intense. They were like shining, polished stones of jade. Trent's eyes seemed more sad though. As if Trent were to allow someone to look into his eyes for long enough they would be able to feel the depression and how alone he felt inside.

Trent looked at his whatch ...and then realized he never wore a whatch. He figured that it was a late anyway and the next day was a school day. He stood up but lost his balance on the slippery roof. But just as his fear hit the fan two hands grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Jered pulled him back onto the roof. Trent sat back down, as did his twin. They sat in the calm silence for over a minute.

Trent turned to Jered. He was looking up into the stars and he knew he was thinking about their dad too. "You heard me, didn't you."

Jered nodded his head without looking down from the night sky.

Trent was refering to their telepathic comunication, that comes and goes with their highs and lows but it always seemed to kick in at moments when one or the other would become suddenly very scared. Trent resumed his star gazing.

Jered's eyes then grazed over to the old cigar box that sat inbetween the two of them. He reached into the box and handed Trent the little wooden box with a dragon carved onto the top. Trent looked down at him then the box. "Will you make me one?" Jered asked.

He looked his brother in the eyes. "No," he answered firmly.

"I don't know how."

Trent tore the box from him. "It's really easy to make one but that's not the point. No, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself."

"Then why have you been smoking so much lately if it's so bad?" Trent didn't answer at first. "Trent?"

"I don't want to talk about." he snapped. "But it doesn't matter why I do it, I'm not going to let you start. Ever."

"Why? It's just weed."

"Yeah, and I'm sure that's how Steve started out." He looked over to Jered. "Do you want to be anything like Steve?" Jered shook his head. A great silence passed before anyone spoke. Then Trent said in a less harsh tone, "Besides, you've got alot going for you right now. Alot more than I do anyway. You've got friends- good friends at that.They care about you and really do like you. And you're in track, right?" Jered gave him a duh look. "Track and dope don't mix very well. And plus Jer," Trent leaned in as if he was going to tell him a secret, "The kind of girls you go for aren't the type who like pot heads. What would your cute little girlfriend Tina say about you two-timmin' her with Mary Jane here?"

Jered stared blankly at his brother. "Trent?" he asked as if he was talking to mentally chalenged person. "I broke up with Tina six months ago and I've dated three other girls since then."

"I see."

"You're stoned, man. I've gotta get you to bed. It's like 2:30 in the morning."

"Allright, but you gotta help me up this time." Jered stood up first to assist his brother.

"Ally-oop!" Trent said giddily.

"Trent, who's Mary Jane?"

Trent laughed but didn't answer him.

They crawled through the window and Jered sort of tucked Trent into bed then climbed aboard too. Trent was just about to drift off into blissful sleep but he suddenly realised he forgot something and it wasn't the cigar box he left on the roof. "Jered?"

"Yeah?" he asked in a tired voice.

"Thanks."

Jered smiled with his eyes still closed. "Any time, bro. Any time"

The next day at skool wasn't going to get much better than that night, which Trent will learn later.

6th Chapter: Trent's Life Outside the Busted Walls

It was the end of third hour, gym. Trent was getting on his regular clothes in the locker room. All of a sudden, Trent was covered by shadow. Trent looked up from tying his shoe and saw seven football jocks hovering over him, looking down upon him (in more than one way). They stood there with their arms crossed, waiting for Trent to acknowlege them further than just a quick glance. But he didn't until it came time for him to get up.

He stood and brushed himself off and looked at all of them knowing their intentions. "What?" he said in his cocky tone that he used on Steve the night before.

"We've all heard around that you sold our plays for some pot to the San Mariono Scorpians. Did you?" A very deep-voiced guy said a bit passive-agressivly, named Jordan Copperfeild.

"Not to my knowlege."

"Dude, you're lying!" another one acussed. His name was Bennie. He was an ex-best freind of Trent's. Over the summer, they grew apart after Bennie started to hang around different people. Bennie was just a different person than the one Trent once called "friend".

"Dude, no I'm not," Trent said mocking him in a retarded voice.

"You're dead, man!" Bennie charged. The biggest one snatched him by the scruff of his shirt and Bennie hit an invisible wall, like a dog runnig to the end of its leash.

"Save it for later!" the bigger guy barked (nice one, huh?). And with that warning the athletes left. Trent shrugged it off and grabbed his bag and left the locker room to his next class.

By the end of skool, Trent felt worn out from everyone asking if he traded the playbook for weed. He was sick of it. Trent was sick of alot of things at this point. He was kind of glad that Steve had recently been talking about leaving this town. They'd been there for many years, more years than Trent even spent in his own hometown which was probably states away by now. He was tripped countless times that day. And everytime someone would do that thay'd say, "Watch your step, stoner, or you might start trippin'!" Trent was beginning th think there was a meeting these kids attended where they discussed how to best humiliate other kids!

He stood against a wall, waiting for his two friends, Kim and Adam. A song kept repeating in his head, one he made up earlier that day in his algebra class.

He had music all planned out to it and everything. It was going to be a slow tempo drum line in the back then a high pitched gitaur making it sound like it was raining. He reached into his book bag and retrieved a writting utencil and and ragged, mangled notebook that had somehow survived the harsh enviroment of his locker, book bag, and bedroom. He wrote the short verses of lyrics down. His notebook was full of short thoughts like that, which usually transferred into his journal and became a whole poem.

"Whatcha writtin'?"

Trent looked up from sitting on his honches and to his interagator.

"A pretty poem?" It was his friend Adam. He looked down to Trent with childish curiosity, and yet it didn't seem a pure and honest curiosity.

"Kind of," he said a bit meekly.

"Get off his back, Adam!"

Adam was shoved forward but regained his composure before he completly lost his balance. It was Kim. It was the only face that Trent looked forward to seeing everyday. Trent smiled a little and Kim returned the gesture.

Adam and Kim were both a year younger than Trent and were in a different building as well so this was the only time they ever got to see each other. The fact that they didn't attend the same building meant that Kim or Adam didn't have any idea of what the other kids at skool thought of him. Unbeknownced to Trent, they looked up to him and thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, so to speak; even if Adam treated him a little less than that.

"So, do you think we could come over and you know just hang out?" Kim asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Definetly not."

"Did you get in another fight with Steve?"

"Yup."

"What happend this time?" Adam said with a great sigh.

Trent thought about it for a second and didn't really feel like being open about it. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"That's ok, dude, we don't really wanna hear about."

Kim puched Adam in the side. "Adam!"

"What? We've all got our problems but you always make yours sound like their so tramatic and cause so much turmoil in your artistic, tourtutred soul; espeacially with your poems. Though very creative and creepy, they make it sound like if someone else lived in your shoes for a day they'd hang themself before your mom called you down for dinner."

"Wow, that was a really good analogy," Trent replied ignoring the rudeness of his observation.

Later, after they walked about a half mile, Trent parted ways with Kim and Adam. But not before he said goodbye. He and Kim hugged each other. Trent held her in his arms and for some strange reason it felt like this was thier last, so he hugged her more tightly and brought her closer to his chest. She responded like wise.

"Bye, Trent. Call me later, kay?"

Trent nodded and let Kim go -forever.

She crossed the street to catch up with Adam who was waiting on the other side for her. She waved to Trent, looked back and smiled that geinuin smile that made Trent feel. It made him feel inside-something that didn't have any dark, depressing feeling atached to it. Which made him smile as well.

7th Chapter: the Chase

Trent pulled his walkman out of his bookbag and turned on to his favorite rock station. He started to think about what happened the previous night. The thought of what Steve might do the next time they were alone made him nervous. Trent wished he could just beat Steve to a pulp just to pay him back for everything he ever did to his family. But Trent wasn't going to repay evil with evil. That was something he learned along time ago.

Without thinking he started to sing along under his breath with the radio. Trent was starting to feel relaxed. Music always did that for him. Like most angst-ridden sixteen year-old boys, he dreamt of being a star- a rockstar no less. He could just imagine himself on stage playing his guitar with his bandmates and the crowd cheering. Oh, the crowd. How he desired the love of thousands of other people and finally being accepted as himself.

The thought came faster than any normal one ever would. It had ergency in it's message. Trent looked up from watching his feet walk. He began to feel tense again. As his heart sped up little by little, that feeling of being watched turned into one of being followed. Some sort of alarm was screaming within his body. Trent's right hand instinctualy clenched itself into a reddened fist. And once he collected enough enery in it, his arm swung around behind him...and hit something! It was something alright that he hit. It was Jordan from their episode earilier in the lockeroom!

Jordan froze in shock and gently grazed his finger tips over the eye Trent had just punched. Trent as well was in great disbelif and began to cower slightly as he stared at Jordan with that deer in the head lights look. Jordan then retaliated with a right jab, Trent ducked quickly down to the pavement, balanceing himself with his hands and swung his leg around and brought Jordan to a pratfall.

That was cause now here's the effect, with Jordan down, the rest of his gang closed their dropped jaws and gave chase.