The next morning, I wake to the sweet aroma of bacon coming from downstairs. At first, I think it's all just a dream, that one of my brothers is actually cooking breakfast for once, but it's all real.

Downstairs, Dylan is in the kitchen making what I assume is pancakes and Caleb is on the couch watching television. "Oh, man. She got booted off!" Caleb complains from the couch.

"Who got booted off?" I ask with yawn following right after.

"Rachel! They voted her off at the last tribal council!" He answers. "God damnit, she was the one player that didn't get involved in drama!" Caleb always vents after an episode of Survivor. He always says that he's going to be on the show one day and win us a million dollars, but he doesn't have the skills to survive on some deserted island, especially without working showers.

"Dude, you only like her because she's hot," says Dylan from the kitchen, flipping a pancake.

"That's only half the reason. She was also a badass player and she was the last girl on the show that wasn't eliminated."

Dylan chuckles. "You're in denial, my friend!"

"Shut up and make breakfast!" He orders back.

I roll my eyes at my brothers and walk into the kitchen to grab a plate of two fresh pancakes with a few strips of bacon on the side.  Then grabbing a tall glass of orange juice, I take a seat at the table. This is how I wish we were like all the time. Dylan cooking breakfast, Caleb complaining about how stupid this generation's television is, and me waking up to bacon and pancakes everyday. Mornings haven't been like this since Mom died and Dad started drinking. But now that he's gone, we can finally move on and push those lonely memories aside to make room for new and happier ones. Maybe we can finally pick up the pieces and begin to heal. Maybe, just maybe, we can be a family again.

After breakfast, I went up to my room to get changed. Today is supposed to be another warm day, so I throw on a pair of skinny jeans and a navy blue top, then I put my hair up into a ponytail.

Coming back downstairs, both my brothers are now in the living room watching what's left of Survivor. "Don't you two have work today?" I ask them as they are engaged with the show.

"Caleb does, I don't," replies Dylan. "On that note, do you want a ride to school today?"

"Wouldn't you rather stay home?"

He shakes his head. "No, I have some errands to run anyway."

So Dylan ends up driving me to school today, not that I mind. I'm not used to anyone driving me places. Ever since Dylan bought my car from a friend at work, I've been driving myself everywhere, unaccompanied by anyone.

The drive is pretty much silent. Dylan's car is similar to mine, but his is cleaner and newer. When we arrive at campus, he parks the car next to the field house, which is where the buses usually pull in. "You know you're not supposed to park here, right?" I advise.

"Yeah, hence the sign right next to the car." He notions to the sign that clearly states Buses Only. "But there's something I want to talk to you about first, and it will only take a second."

"Can't we just talk after I get home?"

"No, I want to do it now."

I let my big brother speak while continuously craning my neck to watch for any arriving buses. His eyes are fixed on me and his hands are still perched on the steering wheel. "Rowen, I know you punched someone the other day, and that you won yourself a first class ticket to detention."

Shit.

I figured he would find out sooner or later, but I was rooting for later. "How did you find out?" I question, beginning to fiddle with my fingers as a sign of nervousness.

"The school called the house phone, and I went through the voicemails this morning," Dylan justifies. His face reads a mixture of disappointment and sympathy. "Rowen, why did you do it?"

I slap my hands to my thighs. "So that's why you offered to drive me. To interrogate me," I say with realization.

"I'm not interrogating you. I'm just asking a question."

"If it's just a question, then we can talk about it at home."

"Rowen-"

"Just drop it, okay?!" My words slice the air, and I instantly wish that I can take them back. All we've done for the past few years is fight and argue about the stupidest things, and the thing is, I'm usually the one that starts the arguments. It's not that I want to fight, because I don't. All I want is a relationship with both my brothers. Is that so much to ask?

Dylan is looking away, his lips pursed, his head almost touching the steering wheel. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing," is all I manage to dish out.

"That's bullshit. Okay, I'm your brother. I know when something's up," Dylan says. It seems I'm officially a terrible liar. "You've been acting up in school, starting fights... I just don't know what to do with you. So please, Rowen." He takes my hand in his. "Please, just tell me. What happened to trusting one another and always telling each other the truth?" Not only am I terrible liar, I'm also now a hypocrite. I am the one who's always said that we need to start acting like a family, and now Dylan's using those words against me. "And please don't make me dish out the corny speeches."

I remove my hand from his clasp; it seems that even holding hands makes me feel guilty. "The truth is that I don't even know what the truth is. I feel either sad or angry, black or white. There's no grey area." Dylan nods his head slightly in understanding. "Don't do that," I order him suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Nod your head like you understand. Because you don't."

His back falls into the sit. "See, that's where you're wrong. I do understand. You're just refusing to see that there are others who are going through the same things you are," he explains wisely, as if he's reciting a quote. "Sometimes, you just gotta accept that there are others who support you, whether you want them to or not."

There's a fine line between acceptance and denial, and I can guess which side I'm standing in. Acceptance is something I've had to deal with ever since Mom's death. I could never fully accept the fact that she's out of my life for good. But looking back at everything's that's happened, I'm in denial all over again.

I get what Dylan is trying to do, and it's not that I don't appreciate his advice. It's just that there's so much denial flooding my conscience that I can't pick out right from wrong. Black from white. Good and bad.

After configuring all this into simple words in my mind, I realize that I'm at fault in this situation, and I sigh an apology. "I'm sorry. You're right, we all need to try harder."

A bus soon roles into the bus lane and my concentration crumbles. Dylan's attention is caught and he starts the engine to his car. That's my cue to get out.

Getting out of the car, I pause before shutting the door. "Dylan?" I say with my fingers wrapped around the rim, almost touching the glass.

"Yeah?"

The bus horn loudly goes off, signalling to Dylan to get out of the bus lane. But I speak anyway. "Thank you. I'll think about what you said."

I quickly shut the door of his car and he smiles at me from behind the closed windows, driving away and leaving me standing on the pavement.

~~~~~

Walking down the hallway and past the rows of locker, I feel a calming presence hovering above me - thought instead of a grey cloud, it's more like a white cloud, fluffy and soft and lightweight.

It's as if I've cleansed my soul of sins after confessing my true feelings to my brother, which is something I've never done or felt before. People say the truth can set you free. I'm starting to think that they're right. If only that other part of me that still has some hidden secrets could be purified. If only it were that simple.

After grabbing my books from my locker and heading into the direction of my first class, I begin to round a corner when I hear a quiet argument from the upcoming corridor. I recognize the voices before I slightly look behind the corner. There stood Olivia and Darien.

"You said it was only a one-night stand," Olivia says.

"It was a little more than just a one-night stand," Darien replies, sounding guilty. "But it meant absolutely nothing, I promise."

"She meant absolutely nothing, or I meant absolutely nothing?" Olivia asks, grimacing.

Darien takes a step towards her and reached out. "Baby, c-mon. You and I both know that-"

Olivia steps away. I back up more behind the corner. "Don't you call me baby, you asshole. I want a straight answer."

"Babe, she was just a fling," Darien claims. "I never cared about her, honestly."

"And I'm supposed to just... believe you?"

"Have I ever steered you wrong, babe?" I almost throw up in my mouth, the disgusting taste already gathering. In everyone's mind, Darien and Olivia are the most envied and most shipped couple at this school. Who would've thought that there's trouble in paradise?

Olivia pulls away again and begins down the hallway, and I back away quickly. "Where are you going now?" Darien asks, following her.

Olivia turns around and faces him. "I've just about had it with this. It's about time someone knows the truth about her." She begins to walk away but he jumps in front of her, blocking her path. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I thought that we agreed that this was going to stay between us," says Darien, still standing in front of his girlfriend like a brick wall.

"Yeah, that was before you told me what was really going on between the two of you," Olivia hisses back. "Now get out of my way."

She tries to shove him away but he doesn't budge. "Hun, if this gets out, it will ruin me. You have to keep this to yourself."

"If this gets out, it will ruin the both of you. And as long as she goes down, I could care less about which poison she chooses."

"Olivia, I'm not screwing around. You tell someone, we're done."

She moves in closer to him, not afraid of his side compared to hers. "You're such a pathetic waste, Darien. Don't you see? We're already done. We've been done ever since you started screwing another girl and got her pregnant!"

I jump backwards and almost trip over the heel of my shoe, releasing a shaky gasp that almost gave me away. I back away from the scene as quietly as I can muster. What I just heard can't be unheard, and the white cloud of purity above me turns black.

~~~~~

Nothing feels right throughout the rest of the day. Gravity feels off. The sky seems darker. Every person seems estranged. It's like I've fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up in Wonderland, only I can't get out of the hole.

At lunch, Sam is talking with Danielle across the cafeteria, hopefully sorting out their issues so we can all move on with our lives. They seem to be having a pretty intense conversation with few smiles added into the mix, not that I'm paying much attention. All of my thoughts have been focused on one simple subject: Olivia and Darien.

"So do you think that they'll make up?" Taylor asks, completely dazed on Sam's conversation with her girlfriend.

"I don't know. Maybe," I reply before taking a sip of my bottled soda.

"Okay, you've been distracted all morning," says Taylor, finally turning away from Sam. "Something you want to talk about?"

I shake my head, twirling my soon around in my apple-sauce. "No, it's nothing."

"Ha. Well this 'nothing' of yours is making me super depressed, so I suggest you cheer up before I slap the shit out of you." To humor her, I give Taylor an effortless grin, but that's as far as I'll go. "Hm, better, but I know how I can get some teeth in that smile of yours."

"Yeah? What's that?"

She leans forward into the table, her body turned towards me. "Okay, so there's a book signing for Walter Henley's Searching for Recognition at the library today and I thought it would be good for you to come with me."

"Wait, Walter Henley is here?"

"Yes!" She answers. "And if you come with me, we can both get signed copies of his book, along with his signature on our phone cases!"

I take another sip of soda, wiping my lips with the napkin. "Aren't best-seller visits really exclusive?" I ask her.

"Yup, and that's why I purchased two tickets in a week's advance." Taylor jumbles through the front pocket of her backpack and pulls out two tickets. "Now we can both go meet one of the best authors of all time, as well as fill in the last spot on our celeb-signed phone cases?"

I study the tickets and the instant urge to snatch one right from her hand comes over me, but I repel it. I want to go, but at the same time, all I really want to do is curl up in my bed where I know that I'm safe. "Um, you know what? I can't go this afternoon," I say while rubbing the back of my neck.

"What? Why?"

"I've got a biology project due soon and I really need to get started on it," I lie.

Taylor folds in her arms, the tickets hidden under them. "Okay, first of all, you don't take biology, and second, there aren't any more major projects this year," she says. I don't know why I thought she would fall for it. Her GPA may not be the highest, but it's not the lowest either. "You're sold out of excuses, Rowen. You're going."

Eventually, I accept her invitation to the library. It's not that I don't want to go, it's that I... don't want to go. Walter Henley is one of my favorite authors of all time, and Searching for Recognition is one of the best stories of all time, but there's this feeling that keeps telling me not to go. What is it with me and my six emotions, each with mixed-personalities of their own?

~~~~~

At the book signing, a line of people travels from the front desk of the library and all the way to the double doors that lead outside. Taylor and I are making slow progress as we try to survive this large cluster of anxious Henley fans. I can't say that I blame them. He is a best-selling author after all.

Taylor taps my arm and catches my attention. "Sam just texted me," she says with eyes fixed on her phone. "Apparently, she and Danielle are back together again."

"Figured that would happen," I reply. I looked ahead in the line and grown at the length. "How much longer are we gonna have to wait in line?"

"It shouldn't be much longer. I think we're speeding up." She's right. The line is speeding up, but not by much. In the last few minutes, we probably only moved up by a few feet.

A few more minutes past and thankfully, we're almost at the front of the line. I can clearly see Walter Henley sitting at a table, stacks of books built in towers around him. I've seen pictures of him, but I've never met or even seen him in person. I watch as he signs book after book with his specialized signature. It's hard to deny my excitement to finally meet him. The excitement is visible in Taylor's face as well.

Suddenly, a head of blonde hair with a familiar shade catches my eye, and that excitement disperses into anguish. He's standing by a shelf full of books, not knowing that I'm just yard away, about to throw my copy of Searching for Recognition straight at his head in hopes that the impact will be enough to make him pass out.

As Silas begins to move further away, I ask Taylor if she can hold my spot in line. "Ah, sure. But be quick. I wanna get a selfie of the three of us and use it as my new screensaver," she says. Thanking her, I hop out of my place in line.

I'm now right behind him, Silas facing the bookshelf. "It's bad enough that you're blackmailing me, and now you're following me?"

He turns around, and I'm greeted with a face that's not Silas'. Instead, flashes of his face jar my mind and I'm forced to swim in the deep waters of my past. His eyes meet mine and they are not Silas'. The auburn brown in them is all too familiar. I never thought I would see those eyes again.

"Noah?" I say his name as if I haven't said it in centuries.

"Hey, Nyc."

A/N
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