"So class, how was your weekend?" Mr. Wilson asked his third period class. As usual, no one responded. "Molly, what about you?"

"Ordinary," the girl called Molly answered.

"Savannah, did you do anything worth sharing?" Mr. Wilson continued.

"Nothing I'm allowed to say at school," a girl mumbled. The class started chuckling.

Mr. Wilson ignored the comment. "How about you, Aiden?"

"Nothing, a quiet boy in the back answered.

"Mr. Wilson, you DO realize this is ninth grade, right? We don't ask how our weekend went anymore," a rowdy kid blurted out. Most of the class retaliated as well. Mr. Wilson managed to quiet them down after a few minutes of riot. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Mr. Wilson said, "I have small children at home. I'm used to babying people," He began the lesson before he got harrassed any further.

"Remember your finals are this Thursday. Studying isn't recommended, it's required. I have study logs for you that your parents need to sign," Mr. Wilson said as the bell rang, signalling the end of class. "Please grab one on your way out."

After class Molly and Aiden met up together. "I can't believe Mr. Wilson is making us study," Molly complained.

"You weren't going to otherwise?" Aiden asked innocently.

"Oh, shut up, like you were actually going to study either," Molly shot back. "Do you want to study together?It'd be more fun if you were there."

"Can't tonight. I've got street hockey," Aiden returned.

"Hey, man. What's up?" Aiden's senior friend asked.

"It's bogus: I've actually got to study," Aiden said miserably.

"Come hang outwith me tonight and you can get out of it," the senior said.

"Sorry, Brady, no can do. Street hockey tonight," Aiden declined.

"Take care, then. Can't say I didn't try," Brady, the senior, said. He slapped Aiden on the shoulder and walked away.

"Your friend scares me," Molly admitted when he was out of ear shot.

"Brady? How?" Aiden asked, genuinely startled, "He's a gentle giant."

"But it's weird. A year ago, he was literally laying on his death bed. Now, he just walks around as if he never had cancer."

Aiden sighed. "I'll admit, it is weird, but I'm not complaining. Brady's my friend: I was crushed when he told me he had cancer."

"He was dying one day and at school the next. That's unnatural!" Molly cried.

The bell rang.

Aiden shrugged. "I'll see you later, Molly."

"Okay, bye," Molly sighed and headed to her next class.

The rest of the day was quiet. Classes were ordinary, the bus ride home was normal, and homework was usual. Molly was on her bed, reading a book for English when a little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl ran into the room. "Hide me!" she squeaked and dove under the bed. Just then a man in his late thirties knocked at the door. "Have you seen Erika? It's time for her bath."

"Nope," Molly lied.

"Well, if you see her, tell her the water is getting cold. And if she gets in within the next five minutes, I'll give her a cookie."

"Will do," Molly said, saluting her father. He smiled fondly and shut the door to her room.

The little girl crawled out from under the bed and bounced on top of it.

"Erika, your bath water is getting cold," Molly told her sister.

"Yeah, yeah. What else is new?" Erika said. "Whatcha doing?"

"Reading." Molly answered.

"Whatcha reading," Erika asked.

"The Outsiders."

"What's it about?"

"Greasers."

"What's that?"

"Poor people from the fifties. Like Danny Zuko from Grease."

"Like Aiden?" Erika asked.

"No," Molly responded, "Aiden isn't poor- he lives in a gated community. His hair isn't greasy AND he doesn't live in the fifties."

Erika threw her small hands up in the air. "Ya coulda fooled me."

Molly grunted and turned the page of her book.

"Where is AIden?" Erika asked.

"Street hockey."

"When are you gonna date him?"

"Probably never," Molly answered thrying to sound casual.

"What about -" Erika began.

"Erika, please just go take a bath," Molly snapped.

"Your mean. Next time I need somewhere to hide, I'm going to Sophie's room," Erika said and stomped out of the room.

Molly sighed. She closed her book and turned over on her stomach; automatically picking at loose threads of a stuffed animal she got when she was a todler. She couldn't stop thinking about Aiden. They had been best friends since second grade. She started to fall for him a few months ago, but she didn't know if her feelings of affection were ever going to be returned.

A little pounce of five-year-old energy woke Molly up the next morning. "Wake up, wkae up, wake up!" Erika shouted.

Molly turned over to look at her clock: it read 6:30AM.

"Go back to sleep, Erika," Molly said.

"You're in trouble, Molly," Sophie informed her.

"What did I do?" Molly asked. The she remembered how she hid Erika from her father when she neede a bath last night. "In my defense," she said, "Erika told me to hide her."

"It's not about that," Sophie told her. "You've got a visitor on the front porch."

"What?!" Molly screamed and headed towards the front door.

"Dad found him when he was going to work this morning," Erika said.

Molly met her mother at the front door. "Molly, wake him up and tell him to leave, please," her mother said.

Molly walked outside to find Aiden sleeping on the floor of the front porch, wearing ripped jeans, a red shirt, dirt, bruises, and roller blades. His bag that he kept his hockey stuff in was next to him.

She shook him gentally, but he didn't even respond. Then Erika came out and body slammed him in the gut. He jolted awake and cursed. Erika giggled and headed back inside.

"Aiden, what are you doing here?" Molly asked, half concernec, half furious.

"Could I stay here a while?" Aiden asked, ignoring her question.

"Why?"

"My parents," Aiden started, "They were murder last night."