A/N Hello lovelies!
Here is chapter seven! Yay :)
A warm welcome and massive thank you to all of our wonderful fans and followers from Twitter and Scratch!! We love you guys :))) <3

"Izzy!" I scream into the reciever. "Izzy, I'm so glad to hear from you!"
Issac chuckles. "I miss you, Birdie."
"Me too." I tell him, sliding down to the ground. "How's New York?"
"Wait, first I want to talk about you!" Izzy says and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I heard the hurricane was pretty bad... I was really worried about you guys."
"Oh. How'd you even get this number?" I question. Ty sticks his head around the door and peeks in. I wave him away.
"I called the Marina like a billion times." Issac explains. "Finally, that girl,
Katie or... what's her name again?"
"Kittie." I inform him and he continues.
"Yeah, she told me that you guys were staying with Larry."
"Leon." I correct, twirling the phone cord around my fingers.
"Yeah, Leon and his grandson Tyson." I don't bother to correct him this time. "Was the storm really bad?"
"It was awful." I moan. "Our house has a tree in the roof!"
"Oh no!" Izzy cries sadly. "Can Papa fix it?"
"Of course!" I answer. "It will take a while though..."
The other end of the line is silent for such a long time I have to ask, "Izzy? Are you still there?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm here, little bird." Izzy says with a sigh.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Izzy cries. "Nothing's wrong! I'm so glad the your guys are okay. I was just really worried, that's all."
"Oh."
"Now, let me talk to Papa, Birdie."
"Okay." I say goodbye and then set the phone down. In the kitchen, Papa and Leon are still eating as Ty taps away on his phone.
"Who was on the phone, Birdie?" Leon asks, swallowing a mouthful of food.
"Izzy." I tell him and Pa stands up.
"Is he still there?" he asks and I nod. My father leaves to talk to Issac and I sit back down at the table.
"We have to go out of town tomorrow to get the lumber." Mr. Koppinger states, scraping the remainders of his foods into the trash. I nod.

The next morning Ty hobbles sleepily into the kitchen, his eyes drooping.
"Morning!" I say cheerily and he grunts.
"I'm going to the marina." Papa calls from the other room. "And remember, we're going to go pick up the wood in a few hours"
I nod, then remember my fallen tree house, the shattered fort. I get up and call, "I'm going out, I'll be back in a bit."
"Oh, Tyler! You should go with her!" Leon smiles, tapping the boy on the shoulder. Ty
shakes his head.
"Oh, go on, Ty! It'll be good for you to get outside more."
I sigh as Tyler tucks his phone into his pocket and follows me to the door.
"Where are we going?" he grumbles, pulling his hood over his head and stepping outside.
"My old treehouse." I explain, ignoring his little eye roll. "I want to see if it's okay."
Tyler trails behind me as I stalk through the woods. Many trees are twisted and
fallen, snapped into little splinters of wood.
When we reach the thick, but stubby downed tree that once supported my treehouse, I
feel my heart catch in my chest. Magazines are scattered everywhere, stuck to
branches, the pictures smeared making the women's faces with stab mark through
them distorted and eerie. The house itself is shattered, the boards spread out
across the forest ground.
"Oh no." I whisper. "No, no, no."
Ty stares at me like I'm a lunatic.
"I am a lunatic." I tell myself and Tyler chuckles.
"Now you're starting to get it!" he exclaims, stepping forwards to step beside me.
"What is this place, anyways?"
I don't reply. He'd never understand. He'll never know what it feels like to have
the whole world against you for no reason at all. He won't understand the
feeling where you just need to get away from everyone, to go somewhere where
it's your own, where no one can judge you, hurt you, or bring you down even
farther. There are somethings that are impossible to comprehend unless you've
done it.
I kick at a magazine, searching for the pocket watch.
Ty reaches up and tears down a picture stuck through a tree branch. "What the
heck?" he murmurs, staring down at the ripped picture in his hand. "Birdie, what
happened to her face?"
I take the picture from him and stare at the eyeless woman. I crumple it up at
hand it back to him.
"Nothing."
I lie, turning away so he can't see how terrible of a liar I am. "That must have happened in the storm."
I continue poking through the dozens of magazines as Ty exhales, clearly
bored.
"Ugh," he moans, sitting down on a fallen trunk. "Why are we here?"
When I don't acknowledge him, he drones on.
"God, this place is so boring." he whines, rolling his head back. "Can we go home
now?"
"Would you just shut up for a minute?" I snap, getting down on my knees to spread out a
different pile of magazines.
"Don't tell me to shut up, Kessie." Ty sneers, getting up and hanging from a sturdy
branch. Or at least it looked sturdy before it crashed to the ground.
"Oww..." Ty groans, lying flat on the ground. I can't help but let the giggle escape my
lips. Ty pushes himself up into a sitting position and glares at me. He has a
leaf stuck in his eyebrow, dirt covering his blonde hair. His appearance is so
hilarious that I laugh even harder, doubling over and clutching my belly.
Ty stares at me in horror as I explode in laughter.
"I'm sorry Ty." I manage to squeak out between my cackles. "It's just so-" I'm
laughing so hard I can't breathe, but the laughter fades quickly as Tyler holds
up his arm to show the blood seeping from the cut ranging from his wrist to
nearly his elbow.
He swallows hard, fighting back tears as he climbs to his feet, his injured arm tucked into his chest.
"I really didn't think that you would be one to laugh when someone got hurt." he
spits, turning and limping exaggeratedly back down the cluttered path towards
home.
"But Ty!" I call after him, getting up from the ground. "Ty, I didn't know!"
He doesn't turn around to face me before turning the corner and hobbling out of sight.
The
forest screams silence as guilt crawls into my gut. I search through a couple
more stacks of magazines before lowering myself down onto a stump and resting my
throbbing head in my hands.
My pounding head replays Tyler holding up his arm to show me the blood dripping
from the wound over and over again, my laughter echoing hauntingly in my head. A
new memory pushes its way through, one I had tried to bury with new thoughts,
but never really succeeded.

I laugh amusedly as Izzy and I throw the ball back and forth on the dock. Papa is
busy on one of the boats, finishing getting them ready before they depart for
their long trip the next morning.
It's one of those days that all of Wrenside's habitants enjoy, starting off sunny and
warm and then cooling off as the sun gradually climbs across the sky and sinks
past the horizon. The first stars were starting to peek out when we heard the
scream.
"Papa?"
Izzy calls in the direction it came from, catching the ball and holding it in his hands.
"He's fine." I tell him, anxious to get on with our game. Izzy shrugs and tosses the
ball back to me. We play for another hour until it's too dark to catch the ball
in front of our faces.
We sit down on the bench to wait for Papa. We wait five minutes, ten minutes, half
an hour. After an hour, Izzy pokes me and tells me to go find our father to tell
him we've been ready to leave for a long time.
I step onto the big, creaky boat and go down the stairs into the belly where Papa was working and where I had been stacking boxes earlier. I hear a moan and gasp as I spot Pa, twisted and lying on the floor, his mouth gaping open, eyes shut with the heavy crates fallen on top of him. Blood drips from his skull, his back bent in unnatural angles.
"Papa!"
All I can do is scream at my motionless father. "Papa! Get up!"


I shudder, my eyes growing damp. I shove the pile of books I was looking through off my lap and they land in the mud with a splat. I get up and pace back and forth, shaking the flashback from my brain, but the image of Papa lying there unconscious is burnt into the back of my eyelids.
After I'm calmed down, I head back to Mr. Koppinger's house through the fresh woods, trying to imagine what to say to Tyler.
"I'm sorry." I practice on the trees. "I didn't mean to laugh. You see, I'm just a very strange person and..." I shake my head and decide to improvise my apology, humming loudly to prevent anymore flashbacks.
When I get back to Leon's house, Mr. Koppinger is seated on the couch, attempting to hem a pair of trousers by hand, and from what I could tell, failing miserably.
"I can't sew." Leon sighs, dropping the pants into his lap. "So what's up, Birdie?"
I look around the room and ask "Is Ty home?"
Mr. Koppinger shakes his head and folds up the pants messily, dropping them on the table, obviously unsatisfied with his handiwork. "I thought he came with you...?"
"Yeah."
I sit down on the armrest of the sofa. "But he came home a little while ago..."
"Hm."
Leon rests his feet on the wooden coffee table. "Maybe he went out with some
kids from town."
"Yeah."
I say, sliding onto the couch beside Mr. Koppinger and resting my head on his shoulder. He pats my frizzing red hair kindly and then gets to his feet with a grunt.
"Well, I'm gonna go help out your father at the marina." He smiles, pulling on his shoes. "Do you think you could find Ty and then the two of you could make some sandwiches for our ride to get lumber this afternoon?"
I wrinkle my nose. "Yeah, if you're alright with lunch tasting terrible."
"Such self-confidence." Leon chortles, tugging his coat onto his shoulders and zipping it up. "See you later."
"Bye."
I lie lazily on the chesterfield for a little while, the drag myself outside.
"Where would Ty be?" I ask myself, entering the green forest.
"Tyler!" I holler, the wind carrying my voice and bouncing it back to me. "Ty!"
I'm almost out of the woods when I notice a single trail of footprints down the
overgrown path that it rarely ever used.
"Idiot." I mutter, following the tracks farther into the bush. I walk down the narrow
path with the gnarled roots poking from the long grass for what feels like hours
until I see him.
Ty sits on a swing hanging from a tall branch, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looks up as I clear my throat, then scowls back at the ground. I swallow at the sight of dried blood on his shirt sleeve, but work up the courage to walk up to him.
"What is this place?" I peer up at the treetops blanketing us and shielding us from
the sun.
"I don't know, I think it's probably some little kid's hideout or something." Ty mutters, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Let me see this." I lean over and gingerly lift his arm. He cringes and tries to pull away as I gently roll up his sleeve, but I grip his arm tight enough to keep him steady.
"Oh, God." His arm is bloody and torn, scraped with bruises creeping all the way up to his shoulder.
Ty inhaled sharply as I slip off my sweater and press it firmly against the cut to stop the little blood still oozing from the wound.
I help Tyler to his feet and then we head home, where I clean and bandage his injured arm.
"You're okay." I assure him as he flinches while I spread on a large glop of cream on
his forearm. Once he has the gauze plastered well enough to satisfy me, I lead him to the kitchen and start piling ingredients on the counter. I slap on a scoop of mayonnaise and start slathering it on the bread when Ty grabs it from me.
"Ew, Birdie! That's way to much!" He scrapes over half the mayonnaise off the slice and into the sink.
"Sorry." I shrug. "I'm a really bad cook."
Ty sighs. "I'll worry about making the sandwiches. You just..."
"Chop things up?" I suggest and he nods.
"Sure, just don't cut yourself." he warns. In no time at all, we have six sandwiches sliced diagonally and zipped into plastic baggies. Ty places them neatly in a cloth bag and I sling it over my shoulder. We don't speak as we walk down to the marina, but Tyler walks beside me, instead of dozens of metres behind me to pretend as though he doesn't know me.
"Mm these look great, guys." Papa takes the bag and looks into it as we arrive at the marina. "I just need to put some stuff away and then we'll be off!"
The car ride is incredibly boring. I stare out at the blur of trees rushing past my window, my eyes growing heavy.
"Ew, get off!" My eyelids flutter open, and I realize my head landed on Ty's shoulder. I sit up straight and stick my tongue out at him. Papa and Leon exchange smiles as we speed down the bumpy highway.
Pa unwraps his sandwich and takes a big bite. After chewing for half a second, he turns around to face me, alarm in his wide eyes.
"What's wrong?" I cry, worried. "Are you okay?"
My father swallows the mouthful of sandwich. "No, I'm fine. It's just-" he wipes the mustard from his face. "It's delicious!"
"Oh. Yeah, Ty made them."
Papa nods, and sends me a smirk. "That makes a little more sense"
I pout half-heartedly.
Tyler doesn't say anything, just continues to stare out his window, but I see the tiniest proud smile creep onto his lips before disappearing as fast as it came.

We finally reach or destination; a yard with neat stacks of freshly cut lumber piled everywhere. The old owner races out to greet us and leads Pa and Leon away.
"Now what?" Ty asks, looking around the shady enclosure. I shrug, poking through a pile of wood aimlessly.
"Hey, come help us, kids!" Leon gestures for us to come over, then piling an armful of planks into our arms. We haul them to Papa's pickup truck and dump them into the back. After many trips, we have all the necessary boards and Mr. Koppinger, Tyler and I pile into the car while Pa goes to pay.
"Wait!"
Ty clambers out of the car and runs up to my father. He explains something, pointing at the wood, at the truck, at the wood once more. Papa nods and grabs some more boards and adds them to the others. Tyler climbs back in and sits beside me.
"What'd you say?" I ask and he just shakes his head.
"Nothing." Papa returns to the vehicle and sits flops down in the passenger seat.
"Thanks for driving, Leon."
"No problem." Mr. Koppinger winks. "It keeps me young."
Ty snorts, resting his head against the glass pane.
We bounce down the gravel driveway, our hair nearly bumping the ceiling as we fly over every bump.
"That's a lot of wood." I remark, twisting in my seat as far as my seatbelt was allow me to look out the back window at the tons of planks rattling around.
"Sure is." Papa grins. "We'll be able to fix up our house and Redman's with this stuff. Oh, and Ty came up to inform me that you wanted to rebuild your treehouse."
Tyler's ears are bright red. I try to remember saying that, but nothing comes to mind. Still, I wanted to rebuild my fort, even if I was already too old. I had no idea how Ty knew.
"You said that?" I ask him and he nods sheepishly.
"Yeah..." He mutters, turning to look at me. "I just... You really seemed upset."
I nod and blink at him. "Thank you, Tyler."
He doesn't smile, but politely replies. "You're welcome, Ke-Birdie."
I turn to look out the window so he doesn't witness my smile growing into a full beam.


A few hours afterwards, the four of us have finished driving the wood to different places around town. Papa is setting up a sawhorse, and I am sitting on the dock with my feet in the water. It's very serene. Every once in awhile, a little fish comes up to swim around the surface, but otherwise I am left alone.
I can see fog whisping above the water, and in the distance, there's cliffs on the other end of the bay that are reflecting in the ocean.
"Look who we have here" Ty and Claire stand behind me, with a boy from my childhood that I can't put a name to.
"Why don't you go help your Papa with rebuilding your house, instead of being completely useless here" Claire smirks. Her outfit is disgustingly revealing, and even though they're feet away I can tell there's goosepimples across her arms and legs. "Right? Ty? Kenny?" My brain identifies the lanky teenager as Kennedy O' Keefe, who is the son of the lady that owns the embroidery shop downtown.
Ty looks at his two friends guiltily before answering.
"We should just leave her alone. Someone as weird as Kessy doesn't deserve our attention" I smile at him, not paying attention to his insults, but to the real meaning behind his words.
Tyler is trying to help me.
The mere thought is preposterous, but at the same time, comforting. Not only does he think of me as a human being. Ty wants to help me, and that's a giant improvement from only a week ago.
Smiling the whole time, I stand up and walk away from Claire, Kennedy and Tyler.
"I know" the other two stare daggers at Ty, who has his hands up. I'm just far enough away to hear their short conversation.
"What the hell?" The girl bickers, crossing her arms across her midsection.
"Hey, sweetie, I got her to leave!" Ty pouts, running fingers through his quiffed hair.
"I don't know why I even TRY" Claire gives up being provocative and tugs on Kennedy's sweater. Without another glance to her friends, she storms off towards town. I dodge her as she thunders past me.
Once Claire's out of sight, Ken pats Tyler's shoulder before leaving.
"You did what you should have, dude"
Instead of getting run over, I sprint off the dock and meet Pa by the house. He's destroyed the whole roof, and is in the process of tearing up uneven floorboards with a crowbar.
"Need help?" I crouch next to him,  examining my father's handiwork with the crowbar.

"No thanks, I'm fine" he flashes me a smile before going back to his work. "You can
go home, it's getting pretty late"
"If you say so"
I catch myself popping into my crushed room before I leave, and scanning the dusty furniture. It's hard to leave the scene, but Papa insists that I go home and have some rest.


When I get back to the Koppinger's, there's no one home yet. I venture over to the fridge and notice a slip of paper clinging to the rough cork board on the wall. Carefully, I unpin it and read the note.

Going to Yarmouth for food and supplies. 
Be back late this evening.
-Leon

I crumple up the piece of paper and toss it into a wastebasket. Even though Yarmouth is only about a half hour away, but I silently hope that Leon doesn't stop to visit a knickknack shop on the way home.
Being alone in the house of someone I've known for barely a month has a bit of a strange effect.
I snatch a pudding from the fridge and plastic spoon from inside a cabinet, before burrowing into the blankets on the chesterfield and grabbing the remote, even
though there's barely any interesting programs that I can find on the
television. Once my snack is finished, I stick to a random channel and have it lull me to sleep. 

I wake up to the sound of footsteps. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I look around to see Ty sneaking across the dark living room.
"Ty?"
He stops. "Yeah?"
"Thanks. For... earlier."
Ty awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.
"You're-" he coughs. "You're welcome, Birdie"
I smile and close my eyes once again, letting my mind wander.

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

"Ow!" I suck on my purple thumb, rocking back and forth on the roof of Redman's.
"C'mon, you're almost done!" Gregory whines, looking up to me from the back lane. He takes a sip from his slushie, and I pick my hammer back up. There's only a few adjustments left to do to the aluminium. I shove the hurt hand into my pocket and bang at the roof. A couple of raindrops splash onto my head as I finish up nailing it in place. I cautiously climb back down the ladder to the cement where Mr. Redman sits.
"Done?" He takes another gulp of his drink.
I nod. "This should be good. Well, for a while, at least."
Papa sticks his head out of the door from inside the store.
"Good work, Birdie. This looks perfect."
"Thanks." I brush back the hair sticking to my face and gather Papa's tools. I spot a girl standing farther down the lane, her hands in her pockets. 
"Kittie!" I call. She turns her head and gives me a little wave before continuing.
"Hey..." Gregory pats his pant pockets. "Where did my wallet go?"
I look back at Kittie and without a hesitation, I sprint towards her. She panics and starts to run, but I manage to grab her wrist and hold her back.
"What?!" she screams, yanking her arm back.
"Did you take Mr. Redman's wallet?" I accuse, jabbing her in the ribs.
"No way! Get away from me!"
"Don't lie! Did you take his wallet?"
"No!" Kittie shoves me away. "I didn't! How dare you-"
"Okay!" I raise my hands in surrender. "Okay, I believe you."
"Thanks." Kittie snarls, marching away. I stare after her for a second and then walk back to Gregory.
"Oh!" he exclaims when I get close. "I was sitting on it the whole time! Silly me!"
Guilt punches me in the gut as I turn to look at the sad girl hobbling away. 
"You ready to go, Birdie?" Pa asks, carrying his toolbox.
"Yeah."

A/N- Sorry, this one's a tad bit short...
chapter seven! Wowee... this is crazy...
I (What. it seems it's mostly me who makes these Author Notes) have been real sick lately, so we're pretty much pooping out chapters. haha. Hope they're good...

WEEP

This chapter's dedicated to Aiden, because he bought us a poutine. Thanks, buddy :)

A/N YAY AN EARLY CHAPTER WOOT WOOT
This Monday is Thanksgiving here in Canada and both of us are going out of town, so we decided to post chapter six early!! YAYYY :DD

In the days after I was left to drown, I stayed cooped up in my room, nothing to do but remember and relive the traumatic event. I lay in my bed, tears staining the pillowcase, sheets tangled around my ankles as I sobbed for hours on end.
"Birdie, you're so stupid!" I would tell myself every time I would think of what happened.
"We're so sorry Birdie!" Claire had insisted, the other kids nodding. "We want you to be our friend!"
"Really?" I asked, blinking in astonishment.
"Absolutely! We feel terrible about how we treated you!" A boy had said, and I beamed.
"You wanna come for a walk to the docks with us?" Claire asked and I nodded earnestly.
I followed them down the path to the docks, laughing along with them as they joked and played games. First the first time in my life, I felt wanted.
The feeling was washed away immediately as the nets lying on the dock tangled itself around my legs.
"Guys, can you help?" I call and they looked at each other deviously. Without hesitation, Claire stepped forward and shoved me into the black water.
I can't believe I fell for that again.

Papa drags me out the woods that crawl behind the barn, fuming with anger.
"Papa, I swear, I-" I  start but he cuts me off with a sharp look.
"Birdie, I can't believe this."
"Then don't!" I exclaim, pulling out of his grasp. "It's not true!"
Papa glares at me. "Don't talk back to me, Kestrel. We're going back to Mr.Koppinger's. You're in big trouble."
He turns around and yells "Come on, Tyler!" to the boy sulking behind us. The night is silent except for the crunch of leaves beneath our feet and my father's loud breathing. 
"You need to believe me" My eyes well up. Papa thinks that I'm the kind of person that would do something as horrible as force other people to do illegal things. What else does he think I do?
We arrive at Leon's quaint house, and Pa tugs us inside. The old man is sitting by the kitchen island, wrapped in his housecoat and drinking a mug of tea.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here, I was worried!" Leon runs toward us, spilling scorching liquid all over the hardwood floor. Papa's face reddens, and he storms ou the door, about to explode. "What was that about?"
We sit down on the disheveled couches.
"Papa's mad at me b-because he thinks he saw m-me doing something illegal" I sniffle, realizing that Leon would never believe me. "But I wasn't!" I add. Ty shifts uncomfortably, probably wanting to say something, but deciding otherwise.
"I believe you, Birdie" Leon smiles, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry about your father. He just needs to get over the initial shock of the situation" A smile brightens both of our faces.
 After a few minutes of us slouching on the chesterfields, he speaks again.
"Tyler, I would like to have a word with you, if you don't mind"

With two steaming mugs of mexican hot chocolate in my hands, I maneuver my way over to where Papa is sitting. He motions me to sit next to him on the rotting old bench, and I gladly accept. For awhile, the two of us drink our cocoa quietly, enjoying the stars.
"Birdie, I'm sorry about accusing you of... that... I know you'd never dream of doing such a thing." I hhug him, tears threatening to overflow once again.
"P-papa" I wrap myself around his torso, letting my mug topple to the ground. "It was so s-scary" My voice is muffled by his warm turtleneck.
"I know, I know" He comforts me by rubbing my back in soothing circles. "I'm sorry for my actions"
"Me too" a smile flashes in his eyes. Rattling comes from Leon's house, and the two of us turn around.
"Is that Ty and Mr.Koppinger?" Papa asks me, knocking back the bitter dregs of his drink. "Why was Tyler with you earlier anyway?" He says, looking at my eyes hesitantly.
"He... I hfollowed him to the barn. All of my childhood bullies were there, and they said that they wanted to be my friend again" I take a deep breath before continuing. "I must be pretty stupid and gullible to believe that joke twice" A forced smile flashes through the tears dripping down my cheeks.
Papa shakes my head, and positions his empty mug beside mine on the mossy earth. "You know that's not true, sweetheart. They're just jealous of you" He grins.
"Why would anyone be jealous of me? I'm a pathetic, ugly, mean, talentless girl who could use some curves" I point at myself, pouting.
"C-come here" Papa's eyes shine, and tugs me in for another hug. "You're the most amazing girl on the planet. Don't forget that" He unlatches from me, gathers our dishes and stands up with much less difficulty than a few days ago. "I'll be inside, someone needs to break up those two" Yells continue to emit from the cottage, and I sigh.
After my father leaves, I decide to take a walk to the beach. Halfway to my destination, rays of sunlight begin to light up the sky. For the first time, I scour the small town of Wrenside for any wrecked buildings.  Most of them are pretty banged up, but none as badly as my house. I groan. If there wasn't a giant tree lodged in the ceiling, the night's events would never have happened.
Mind you, Ty would have been in much more trouble... and more drunk. It suddenly makes me happy to share the blame with him, Tyler isn't one to let an argument go. He'll just get hurt more.
I walk the short distance from my house to the Marina, and gaze at the rickety dock. Luckily, all of our customers were able to take their boats out of the water before the storm hit. That happiness is clouded when I realize that the whole shack that once lay at the very end of the dock has vanished.
I run across the creaking panels, and stare down at the ground where it had stood. There's snapped pieces of board scattered in the ocean, but no shack, which contains all of our supplies, to be seen.
The lack of sleep and amount of worrying causes me to curl up on the dock and doze off.

"Yeah, I found her here, completely passed out" I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and sit up groggily. Kittie and Papa are sitting on the picnic bench, which has miraculously stayed bolted to the dock, and talking quietly.
"Thanks for taking care of her, Kittie" Papa smiles and pats her on the back. Kittie turns to leave, but stops after taking a few steps.
"Uh... Boss... I have something to ask you" She stuffs her hands in her grey sweatshirt.
"Sure, ask away"
"I- I've been having financial issues lately" From what I can see from my end of the marina, he raises his eyebrows. "Birdie told me it'd be okay to ask you, but I've always been sort of nervous about this kind of stuff..." She blushes and looks away, before inching towards him.
"Dear Kittie, you don't need to worry. I'll always be looking out for you!" He hands her a wad of bills, and smiles. Papa is always so kind and generous.
The young woman leaves hurriedly. Papa looks towards me, and I smile before dragging my feet over to where he sits.
"You always seem to disappear, don't you?" He laughs, and shoves his wallet back into the back pocket of his jeans. I giggle. "Oh yeah. Are you still going to the beach with Tyler? We could grab more stuff from the house if you need a bathing suit"
"Sure" I moan, snacking on a bag of vegetable chips.

We scramble over broken dishes, branches and glass to reach our bedrooms. A huge limb from the tree covers my bed, but I walk around it to get to my overturned set of drawers. It takes quite a while to flip it over, but after I finish with that job, a backpack is filled instantly with clean clothes. On my way out of the room, I snag a purple sweatshirt that hangs from my door handle and tug it on.
When Papa and I meet in the hallway, I laugh at all of the stuff he has in his arms.
"I'm sure Leon has some extra toothpaste for our week-long stay" I point to the boxes of toiletries piled in a basket he's holding. "You pack like a girl" I giggle.

"ALMOST DONE" I scream through the bathroom door, while trying to tie my swim suit. It's my least dorky one, with ties on the hips and halter. The bright green colour brings out the colour of my eyes, and I smile. Izzy gifted it to me last Christmas. I finally finish the strain of tying a bow behind my neck, when I hear the door creak open.
"Are you done yet? Ty peeks into the bathroom, and I cover myself quickly. He smirks at my blush, and throws a beige towel over his shoulder. "We're leaving soon" I rush out, and grab my goggles that are on the kitchen counter.
"Ready to go?" Leon asks, hiking up his ridiculously neonic swim shorts. 

When we arrive, the first thing I notice is a mob of my childhood bullies crowding around Ty, who drove to the beach instead of walking. They all turn around to see the rest of us hiking down the path.
"Oh. My. God." Claire giggles, hooking her arm around Ty's. "What is with your bathing suit?"
"Nothing" I reply monotonously, and gesture to the ocean, waves lapping up onto the sandy beach. Random debris is scattered across the sand, so I hop around them carefully. The water is the perfect temperature, and diving in isn't a problem. Underwater, it's live with colourful fish.The fish flash by within an arm's length, willing me to reach out and touch their rough scales. As I surface to take a breath, I catch a glimpse of Ty bumping a volleyball back and forth with his new friends. I try hard not to notice the bright blush creeping up his collar as Claire slips off her dress and exposes her bathing suit, which appears to be a couple sizes too small and doesn't cover where it really should. 
I glance down at my own swim attire, which is much different than her's. I still like it though and decide that I really don't care what they think as I slip below the waves again. 
I sink down to the sandy bottom and land gently on the soft ground. The calm water and serenity of it all never failed to amaze me. I had loved swimming since I was very young. 


"Mommy! Hurry up, I wanna swim!" Izzy dragged Mom down the path towards the beach, Papa balancing our belongings and carrying me towards the ocean. 
"I don't want to go to the beach." I whine, tugging on the bottom of Pa's shirt. He scoops me up in one arm and tucks me into his shoulder. 
"But Birdie, you've never even been to the beach!" Papa chuckled as I pounded his chest. 
"I don't care! I hate the beach!" I wailed, my father still completely calm as his little girl acted like a complete brat. When Papa put my little feet onto the hot sand, all my grumpiness was forgotten as I immediately started grabbing shells and piling them in a bucket. 
"Look, Mama!" I called every five seconds. "Look what I found!"
Every time she would push herself to her feet and jog over to where I had wandered to see my little treasures. 
"Look at this rock, Kestrel!" she smiled, tucking a red stone into my plastic container. "Isn't this fun?" 
Once Papa and Izzy were in the water, I immediately wanted to join them. My mother carried me in, dipping my toes into the salt water as she waded in slowly. 
"Can I swim, Mama?" I ask Mom and she glances sceptically at Papa. 
"Sure, Birdie." Pa grins. "Swim from Mommy all the way over here to me."
My mother sets me into the water and my legs and arms are instantaneously paddling as fast as they can. I reach Papa in no time and beam up at his proud face. 
"Again!" I cry and I race back to Mom. 
"What a big girl, you are!" she exclaims, hugging me in her arms. "I can't believe how good that was!" 

I push off from the bottom and tread water at the surface, my head hurting from the memory. That feeling of pride and accomplishment was so rare lately that it felt weird to even think about it. 
Claire, Ty and the rest of the group are slowly wading into the refreshing water. I roll my eyes at Claire's girly squeals every time the water rises a tiny bit. It wasn't even cold. 
Ty stops walking in at about waist level, staring out at the water unsurely. Claire gingerly continues to step in as I duck into the ocean once again. 
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale, the bubbles from my breath tickling my nose. I slowly drift to the bottom and lie suspended in the water, staring up at the sky through the rippling waves.
The calmness and tranquility vanishes in an instant as I feel the string loosen around my neck. I grab for it, but it slips off. I flip around to see Claire floating in the water beside me, my top dangling between her fingers. 
I throw my arms around my chest, panicking and charging at Claire. She slips away before I can snatch back my bathing suit. 
I swim to the surface, being careful to only poke my head out of the water. Claire stands closer in shore, holding out my top like it's a dead animal. 
"This thing is hideous!" she hollers, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The others laugh as she pretends to throw up. 
I look around desperately for help, but Papa and Leon are nowhere in sight and Tyler is back on shore, wrapped up in his towel. 
"Please, Claire." I beg, my legs growing weak from kicking. 
"You want it?" Claire sneers. "Go fetch!" 
She tosses the bathing suit further along the beach and I swim after it as fast as I can. I reach it quickly and wrap it back around me, tying the strings in an improvised knot as tight as I can. I climb out of the water and head to the beach, my face hot.
"What's wrong, Kessy?" Ty smirks as I walk past him. I shoot him a harsh look and continue to the pile of our towels stacked by the pinic table. Papa and Leon have disappeared, so I search though the bag of items and pull out a ham sandwich. I chew on it and watch the other teenagers frollick and giggle in the ocean.
I long to jump back into the waves, but I don't dare. Claire is a devil.
I pull out my sketchbook from underneath the stack of towels and start to draw the beach. I can't get the waves right, so I crumple up the page and drop it onto the sand beside me and start fresh.
"What's this?" Claire unrolls the ball of paper before I can grab it from her. "Ooh! A love letter! To Ty!"
"It is not." I mumble, closing the sketchbook and trying to get away, but Claire blocks my path.
"Ty, come here!" she calls, waving to the blonde boy. He dashes over and stands beside her.
"Listen to this," Claire laughs, pretending to read from the page. "Why I love Ty Koppinger, by Kestrel! How sweet."
Ty chuckles, "Gee, Kessy, sorry but I don't feel the same way... You're just too..."
My heart sinks. "Too what?" I ask as Claire drops the terrible drawing of the shore into the water.
"Too you" He rolls his eyes, and his hand floats over to the girl's shoulder. "Let's go"
I watch the two walk back to their friends, but after they've faded into the distance, I rest my head in my trembling hands.
"Why doesn't anyone like me?" I moan.
"Birdie, it's time to go!" Papa beckons me over to where he and Leon stand on the boardwalk. "We need to tour around town to see what damage's been done" He grabs my hand once I reach them, and we walk back to the Koppinger's in silence, leaving Ty behind with his friends.
After a few minutes pass, Leon speaks up.
"I'm sorry about what happened last night, Birdie. When we're driving around, I'll have a word with the children's parents" He receives a nod from Papa, but I refuse his offer.
"Leon, as much as I appreciate that, I don't want anyone else to be hurt because of me"
"If only everyone thought like that" he sighs, and pats my shoulder comfortingly. "The world be much more of a better place" The old man pauses. "But I'm still talking to their parents. They should know about this incident, it's their right" 
"Sure"
I run into the house, and race into the bathroom. Luckily, I'd left my clothes in there when Ty forced me to leave, so I snag them and change quickly. On the way out, I grab some energy bars and bottled soda from the fridge, knowing we'd get hungry.
Papa maneuvers the car through the tight streets, turning around fallen trees and chunks of plaster. After the first two blocks, we stop to see how the businesses are taking care of the recent hurricane.
There's only a few different stores in Wrenside, and they're all condensed into one street. From where I sit, behind the passenger's seat in Leon's Hummer, I have a good view of the shops. The only one that's banged up is Redman's. The pet store, embroidery supplies shop, barber, and ice cream parlour seem to be in decent shape. The three of us hop out of the vehicle, and step into the grocery store, which seems to have a chunk taken out of its tin roof.
"Hello, hello, nice to see you again!" Mr. Redman runs up to my father,  and pats him on the back.
"Hey, Gregory" Papa smiles, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. "We're going around town, to see if everyone has a house" The man doesn't listen, and instead turns to me.
"Oh, my! Little Kestrel! It's been a long time" Mr. Redman gushes, giving me friendly one armed hug.
"Yeah. It's good to see you!" I smile, despite the fact that I had visited his store only a short while ago. As Papa and Leon chat with him I venture over to the corner of the building, looking around for any further damage.
"Is it okay if I check the back for leaks?" I yell to the plump store owner, and am replied to with a nod. The back of the store is musty, and the floor creaks with every step. Pots and pans are scattered randomly across the whole room, protecting the floor from any more damage. I step over the kitchen supplies, water dripping from the ceiling onto my face. Brushing the drops from my cheeks, I open the back door and step outside into the humid air. The stench from a nearby dumpster stings my nostrils.
The three men pop out of the door, fresh water droplets clinging to their hair.
"You need to get that ceiling fixed" Papa sighs, running a hand through his thinning red hair.
"Really, I don't even notice anymore" He shrugs. Leon trails behind them, obviously the third wheel. I give him a glance of reassurance and he smiles appreciatively.  
"Well, we should get going." Pa says, heading back through the store, the three of us trailing behind. In the dark room, I don't notice one of the pots in front me. I stumble over it and land on the ground, my legs twisted awkwardly beneath me.
"Ouch!" I rub the scrape on my leg as Mr. Koppinger, Mr. Redman and my father rush over. Leon grabs me by the elbow and hauls me to my feet.
"Are you okay, Birdie?" Papa asks as I lean on him.
"I need to fix that ceiling." Mr. Redman stares up at the little holes in his roof.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I hobble back to the front of the store, and plop down in a chair behind the till. Pa comes and stands beside me, Leon joining him seconds later.
"Here!" Mr. Redman rushes over with a box of bandages. "These are for free. Take the whole box."
Leon sticks a dozen colourful band-aids on the wound on my shin.
"Thank you, Mr. Redman." I try to smile, but I cringe with the pain in my leg.
"Gregory." he insists. "Call me Gregory, Kestrel."
I nod and get to my feet, following Mr. Koppinger and my father out the door.

"Stay in the car, Birdie, you don't want to hurt yourself more" Leon orders, winking to confirm his hat flavour. :))))))))))
"Okay, but I'd rather go to the pet shop." I tell him and he chuckles.
"Well, if you feel up to it..." Papa trails off and I bounce up and down on my toes in joy.
"Yes! I'm fine!" I race down the street and into the pet shop. The bell above the door jingles as I enter the store, and when I take a breath I notice that it smells strongly of mud and sawdust. I smile when I notice the bird cages. Ever since I was little, I've been fascinated by birds. Their feathers, wings, and of course, flight.
A speckled chickadee chirps, and I turn around. It hops across its little perches towards me, and I snag a stool that's been left unattended and slide it in front of the cage.
"Hello, sweet bird" I coo,  jam my finger between two bars of the cage, and wiggle it around as if it were a worm. The chickadee hops over to my finger, and steps carefully onto it.
"Why aren't you flying?" I pout, and am surprised when someone behind me answers.
"We clip our bird's wings, so that they don't escape" A woman smiles behind me, her atmosphere bubbly and happy.
"Isn't that cruel?" It must be horrible to have the ability to fly, but you're not allowed to.
"Oh, no, the birds appreciate it" The lady pats me on the shoulder and hops away. I roll my eyes, and focus my attention back to the cute little bird chirping a tune.
"You know, in a way, you're just like me" I sigh, leaning into the cage far enough that my nose is squished against its metal bars.
A while later, Leon, Papa and Ty peek through the door of the pet store.
"Birdie?" My father asks, and I usher them over to where I sit.
"Isn't it so cute?" I giggle, the little bird pecking at my finger. "OW!"
"You're so weir-" Tyler stops himself before he goes too far, and slinks away to watch the fish.
Leon sighs, before saying "Anyway, we're leaving now. Your father and I took the liberty of stopping by the rest of the houses while you were here." he says. "Luckily, there's only a few other houses that have damage like yours" I grin. There's definetely been worse years.
"I'm going to go now" I tell the chickadee, and place the stool back beside a giant aquarium. We fetch Ty, and head home.

I poke at the generous helping of unappetizing lasagna on my plate. The kitchen is silent as we chew on the cheese with the texture of plastic. 
"So-" Leon starts, but is interrupted at the ringing of the ancient phone hanging in the hallway. He begins to push himself to his feet, but I jump up.
"It's okay, I'll get it!" I call, sprinting out of the kitchen and towards the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi... Is this... Who is this?" The line crackles.
"Well, who's this?" I ask, leaning against
the wall.
"This is Issac. Issac VanTaraden."



A/N We actually finished this on Wednesday, but yeah :)
It's been a relatively busy past two weeks, but I (what) took the week of Tae Kwon Do. We can finally be a little ahead in the story!


So... here's a beautimous picture of the two of us :D

AN EARLY CHAPTER! A LONG CHAPTER! HOW ABOUT BOTH?
YYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

******THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SOME UNDERAGE DRINKING- READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
sorry about this, but we sorta got stuck about ideas, and had to have something bad and completely stupid happen. I hope no one is uncomfortable with that, because, if you are we could change it around :)
Y'now, as scary as it is, this stuff happens in real life. Alot. The two of us had no better ideas, and, they're 17 for goodness sakes. 17 year old mean people who think they're so cool almost always leads to underage drinking/substance abuse.
terrifying thought...

Okay, now that you've read my life lesson, on with zee chapter!

The door opens to Papa and Ty.
"Yes, the cellar's over here. Don't worry about lights. We have quite a few" I turn my head to see Tyler with his duffel and a grocery bag full of snacks. 
"Hi" I state, trying to be nicer than I thought he deserved. I toss the rest of our supplies into the three of us climb down into the dank hole before a large crack lights up the sky. "She's here" I whisper, laying out water bottles and flashlights.
My backpack lays in the corner, its contents including my sketchbook, the cookies I could save from my incident earlier, and a blanket. Tyler sits himself down on the stack of foamie matresses, and starts to play video games on his cell phone. Rain starts to ricochet off the metal roof like bullets. I plop down next to my father, and lay my ear to his chest. The sound of his beating heart always calms my nerves.
"I'm worried about Leon...I should go see if he's okay. If we don't come back, we have found shelter somewhere else. Okay?" Papa readies a pack of his own and kisses my forehead. "Bye" He leaves the two of us alone with the raging storm above.
I curl up in as many fleeces as I can find and lay out Grandpappy's sketchbook before me. "Okay, Birdie" I reassure myself, and start to form a deeply shaded eye. "You can do it" It takes me ten tries to perfect the brow, and even though it frustrates me, I continue drawing. Minutes later, I jolt up to find Ty crunching up beside me.
"Why are you talking to yourself, Kessy? Are you some sort of alien?" He laughs. I snarl at him.
"It's true. By the way, what's your drawing of?" I peer down at my opened page, and see my work.
"Well... There's the start of a face, but with a giant black line across its nose. I wonder how that happened?" I pout.
"I think it looks better like that" I punch his arm. "Okay, chill, I'm sorry" He takes the rubber eraser from beside me and positions it onto the paper. "See? All better." He tears a blanket off of my cocoon and wraps it around himself, pulling out his phone once more. Ty swears quietly about how he doesn't have any service, so I look at him inquisitevely and lay down my stick of charcoal.
"What do you think? We're in a cellar after all" I focus back to my drawing, and begin to
erase the scribble carefully. Wind blasts against the shed and a cold gust reaches us slightly in our small hiding spot. Tyler shivers beside me, and pulls the blanket closer. Storms had never been a problem for me, but as the boy sitting next to me begins to turn pale, I realize that they may be a little scary.
"Something wrong?" I ask nicely, shutting my sketchbook and looking up at him. His blue eyes glisten in the dim light, and I can tell that he's upset.
"You'll probably think I'm a wuss"
"I already do, so it won't change my opinion of you" I say, earning a bop on the head.
"I've never been in a hurricane. What if Grandpa's house gets destroyed? Where will I live?" I peel off another layer of blankets and tuck them around him.
"There's no need to worry. My house has lived through many storms, and it's still standing. So am I. As long as you keep a positive attitude everything'll be fine" I ball up a sleeping bag for a pillow and lay down next to Ty. Every few seconds, a crack of lightning lights up the sky and wind beats against the aluminum exterior of the shed. "It's all fine" I mumble before drifting off fitfully.
Trees envelop me, their leaves rippling in the wind. Each direction I look there is only the rustling foliage. Nothing else.
Suddenly, a feeling overcomes me, a feeling of loss. I zig-zag through the forest, dodging stumps and twigs. After what seems like hours of running, I am nowhere nearer my destination. Voices whisper in the wind, putting me down.
"You're so weird" Says Claire's whispy voice. "And ugly" Whisps of inky coloured smoke emit from the tree's branches and soak into my hair, leaving it black as a raven. 
"NO!" I shake my head, sending splatters of ink all over. I run away from the demon. At one point, I reach a meadow, once colourful with its flowers, but now ruined by dark splotches of ink. A whirlwind lives above it, enveloping everything that is around it.
"Papa" I cry. 'Don't leave me!" He twists towards the center of the storm, debris flying around him limp body. "Papa!" I scream, throat raw. My knees are muddy, and hands curled into fists as I Iower myself to the ground and curl up into a fetal position. 
"Kes-Birdie?" My eyes fly open and I sit up, looking around for the voice. Tyler turns on a flashlight, and shines it right into my face. "I can't sleep because of your yelling. Stop it, will you?"
"Papa" I whine, pulling my layers of fleeces closer into my body and rubbing my eyes. 
"They aren't here yet. Just fall back asleep" He sighs, laying back down on the mattress, and closes his eyes.
"I can't" I reply. "Want to play a game? It always calmed me down during storms when I was little." Noticing Ty's ragged breathing, I pass him another blanket and scooch closer.
"Sure" He flinches with my closeness, but doesn't move away.
"Okay, so you count how many seconds there are between the lightning and thunder"
"Sounds boring, but sure" He groans. A large crack sounds and the two of us wait until lightning brightens the sky.
"That one's a seven" I state.
"Six"
"Five" We repeat this for a bit, not interacting otherwise.
"Two. it's getting closer" My muscles tense.
"One" Tyler shifts, burrowing further into the warmth of his blankets. It is barely milliseconds later when lightning and thunder combine, creating a powerful blast that rocks the earth we lay on.
"Zero" I gasp, rolling over onto his outstretched arm. 
"Go away" I snap out of it, and look over to Ty. "Get off my arm, Kessie" I pout at the nickname as the boy glides away.
"Stupid" I huff, hiding my face.
"Weirdo" I lay back onto my makeshift pillow and try to calm down, but right afterwards, harsh winds begin to thrash against the creaky shed, causing it to moan. A crash in the distance makes the two of us jump.
"What's that?"
"I think a building got hit" I shudder, remembering when the same thing happened a few years back. 
I curled up into Papa's arms. He had been so reserved the past few weeks, and when my father beckoned for me to share my warmth with him, I accepted gladly. Suddenly, a giant bang fills the air.
"It's okay" My big brother, Izzy, came in closer and began to stroke my long, wavy hair.
This is when I begin to think about Mommy. She had left the day Papa started to get sad. I didn't understand. If she had been there at that very moment, our family would have been much more... whole.
I still didn't know her reasons for leaving, or why she didn't tell us first. I sighed, and wiped a tear from my eye.
Yes, I did miss her. I realized that moment how much I needed my Mommy, but she was never going to come back. Ever.
The next five hours are spent trying to sleep, but neither of us is willing to give in to nightmares of being sucked up by the hurricane. I keep playing the game in my head until whipping wind turns to hail and hail fades into the lulling pitter-patter of rain. I roll over, and am surprised by Tyler looking straight into my eyes.
"Is it over?" He's staring at me, sandy blonde hair sticking to his face with sweat.
"Hopefully" I sigh, scratching my head.  Footsteps above our heads interrupt the conversation and Ty tenses up again.
"There's someone coming"
"It's probably just Papa and your grandpa"
"Stupid Kessy, I know that" He rolls his bloodshot eyes as our relatives climb down the stairs. I turn the other way and pretend to sleep. My father lays down next to me and starts to untangle my hair with his fingers.
"I'm back, sweetheart" He whispers in my ear, and takes off his windbreaker. I get a glimpse of the face of his watch in the process, noticing that Tyler and I had spent the whole night in the cellar. Papa snuggles up next to me and continues to play with my wavy locks.
Leon groans as he sits down on the hard ground.
"That was some storm!" he chuckles, shaking water droplets from his tangled hair. "But it's mostly over now."
With Papa's warm arms around me, it's easy to drift off and when I wake up, I am alone in the cellar. I drag my few belongings up the stairs and carry them back home. Fallen trees dart the path to my house and sand blown from the beach clings to the leaves and rocks. A paper flutters from underneath a branch and I bend down and slide it out from where it is trapped. A turn over the ripped page in my hand, the glossy pictures evidently torn from a magazine.
"My treehouse..." I murmur to myself, spin around to face the direction in which it stood for years.I decide that I'm really not in the mood to see the shelter where I hid in for my entire childhood destroyed and keep trudging over the sticks and trees thrown across the trail.
The first thing I notice when I get home is that my house is still standing. Barely standing, but not completely wrecked. The relief quickly disappears though as I realize that a heavy tree has snapped and crashed onto the roof, leaving a massive dent and making the building look ready to cave in on itself. Papa stands away from the home, his hand shielding his eyes as he inspects the damage.
"How's it look?" I question and he drops his arm to his side.
"Not so good." He sees the alarm on my face and quickly adds, "I mean, I should be able to fix it in about a week, but I don't think that it's safe to stay in for the time being."
"Oh." I place my stuff down on the only visible patch of ground that isn't strewn with debris and pull my father into a hug. The hurricane must have been worse than I suspected and I feel hot tears sting the corners of my eyes at the thought of all the damage done to the all the buildings in town.
"Hey, hey, don't be upset, little bird!" Pa pulls away and tilts my chin to look me in the face. "We'll just have to stay somewhere else for a little bit!"
I nod and dab at my watery eyes with Papa's shirt sleeve. We stare at the broken house for a second before my father smiles and informs me that he's going to go to the marina and call to see where we're going to stay.
Once alone, I sit down on a tree stump and pull out my sketchbook. I try to draw my house when it was still beautiful, but it looks unfamiliar, like a stranger's house. I add a couple holes in the roof and some cracked windows, but it still isn't home. I crumple up the page and tuck it into my backpack, then pace back and forth to stretch my legs.
I peer up at the house, trying to remember my room. It's hard to forget; pale blue paint chipping from the walls, the bed with the bumpy mattress and faded gold bars as a headboard. The window is smeared with dirt and dead bugs squished against the glass and then there's my wooden dresser with the broken handles on the drawers. It's a very tiny bedroom, if I stand in the middle of the room I can spread my arms and touch the walls in every direction with ease, but at the same time it doesn't need to be big. It's a place where I've always been comfortable.
I climb up the front steps and stand in front of the front door. Without even thinking, I push open the door and step into the building. Water drips from the ceiling and forms puddles on the hardwood floor and the pictures hanging on the walls were crooked or lying smashed on the ground. The entire house groans as I walk through the living room and to my room. The soggy bedspread is tangled on the floor and I scoop it up and throw it back on the bed. I pull the wet drawing of Grandpappy from the wall and fold into a little square. I tuck it into my pocket as the house structure trembles.
"Whoa!" I grab onto the door frame as the roof makes a terrible cracking noise. I hear a cabinet crash to the counter in the kitchen and I slip on the slippery floor.
"Birdie?" a voice calls from outside. "Birdie, where are you?"
I crawl down the hallway, soaking my knees and scraping my hands on the broken glass on the way to the exit. I throw the door open and step right into the puddle on the other side. I fly down the many steps and land on the hard ground with tears streaming down my dirty cheeks.
"Birdie!" Leon grabs my arm and helps me to my feet. "Birdie are you alright?"
"Yeah." I swallow and wipe at the tears, smearing mud across my face.
"You shouldn't have gone in there." Mr.Koppinger shakes his head. "It's dangerous."
"Very dangerous." I turn to see Ty seated on a stump, waving a scolding finger at me.
"I know." I scowl and grab my grandfather's sketchbook from the ground and tuck it back into my bag. "What are you guys even doing here?"
"We came to get you." Leon smiles, picking up my backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
"What?" I ask, confused.
Ty grimaces and drags me by the shirt to the idling car.
"Come on, Kessy." he spits, opening the door and pushing my back so I get in. "You get to stay with us."
                                                                     * * * * *
I lug my bag into Leon's home, and drop it beside the green couch. Papa is already unpacking his things at another chesterfield. There is barely anything in my backpack; only the things I had been able to salvage from my house were a few day's worth of clothing from the laundry hamper full of dirty clothes overflowing in the hallway and a toothbrush.
I cautiously sniff one of the t-shirts thrown into my bag and cringe.
"Whatever, it will have to do."
"Stop doing that, Kessy."
I turn to face Ty, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Stop doing what?" I fold up the shirt and put it back in my bag.
"Talking to yourself." Tyler grumbles, walking across the room to look at a photo framed on the wall. "It's creepy."
"Well, sorry." I stick out my tongue and he chuckles.
"That's not an attractive look for you, Birdie." He points at my pout.
"Tyler..." Leon warns from the kitchen.
Ty frowns and leaves the room, closing his bedroom door roughly behind him.
Pa flops down on the sofa, testing it out.
"Not bad." he says and I lie down on mine as well.
Mr.Koppinger enters and plops a tray of snacks down on the coffee table.
"Well, if you guys are finished getting settled in, I'm going to go tend to my garden." He grabs a pair of gardening gloves from a shelf covered in miniature trains. "That storm tore it up pretty badly."
My father gets up and stretches. "Yeah, I should go finish fixing up at the marina."
"Do you need any help, Papa?" I stand up and smooth out my shirt. Papa shakes his head.
"No thanks, Birdie. You stay here with Ty. Hey, don't make that face!" I quit wrinkling my nose in disgust as Pa grabs a sweater from his own bag and pulls it over his head. He kisses me on the cheek and then I am alone, not a sound in the house but many clocks ticking simultaneously.
I sigh and sit down on the bright couch, pulling a book from the resting on the carpet beside the chesterfield. I open the album on my lap, each page filled with joyful pictures of a family. One in particular makes me take a second glance.
"Who is that?" I ask, staring at the picture of a young woman holding onto a bouncing baby, Mr.Koppinger  resting a strong hand on her shoulder.
"That's my mom."
I jump when I look up to Tyler seated on the sofa beside me, peering over at the photos covering the sheets.
"Oh." I look back at the picture, then back at Ty. "That doesn't look like you."
Tyler scowls. "Well, maybe it's because it's not me."
"Oh." I repeat, studying the yellowed photo once more. "Who is it then?"
"No one." he snaps, grabbing the scrapbook from me and slamming it closed. "I don't want to talk about it." He shoves the book onto a shelf in the bookcase and then sits back down on the couch next to me, glaring down at the coffee table.
Part of me wants to ask more about his mother and the boy in the picture, but I know better. Years of being asked about my mother has taught me when it's a good time to stop asking questions.
"Kestrel, where's your mommy?" the girl looks up from my family portrait I had so proudly drawn."I think that you forgot to draw her."
"No, I didn't." I reply. "I don't have a mother."
"Oh. That's sad." she says softly, peering pitifully at me.
I shrug and continue drawing a flower. The petals weren't right. I scribbled over the picture and restarted.
"Is your mom dead?" the girl whispers, wide eyed.
"No." I answer, the start of a cat forming on my page.
"Then where is she?"
"She's..." I hesitate, putting down my marker and looking at the curious girl. "She's in America."
"But she's still you mom, even if she's not around!" the child insists, pointing at the painting of my small family hanging to dry. "You have to draw her, the teacher said we had to draw all of our family!"
"She's not my family." I mutter, getting up from my desk and ripping the picture down from the little clothesline. Dozens of pairs of young eyes watched me as I tore it into tiny pieces and left it in a pile on the classroom floor. "She's not my mother and she never will be."
"Birdie, you're doing it again."
"Hm?" I blink, Tyler waving his hand in front of my face.
"You're talking to yourself again." he informs me, staring intensely into my eyes like he's trying to find out what's wrong with me.
"Oh, sorry." I shake the scary memory from my head and exhale.
Tyler rolls his eyes.
"Oh, Birdie," he laughs, scratching his ear. "Why are you so weir-" He stops and pretends to cough instead of finishing his sentence.
"Different." He corrects, once finished his wheezing into his elbow. "You're different, Kessy, definitely different."
I can't help but smile at his attempt to be nice to me.

That evening, I am approached by Leon.
"I hope he didn't cause too much trouble this afternoon" He sits down next to me on the couch and fluffs my pillow slightly. "Tyler, I mean"
"Actually, He's made some progress" I inform, gathering my hair into a ponytail.
"That's good to hear" he ruffles my hair and walks to the kitchen. The smell of spices cuts through the air when he starts to season our meal, mushrooms and chicken that are sizzling in a pan.
Papa walks out of the bathroom, tugging on the string of his pyjama pants, and motions for me to enter.
"It's all yours" He grabs a towel from the leaning tower that is placed by the bathroom door. I grab my bag and walk in. The interior is painted blue like a sky, dotted with little seagulls and clouds. I drop my stuff behind the door and fiddle with the shower tap, trying to get the head to turn on.  When it finally begins to spit out cold water, I brave the chill and dive in, willing to wash off the events of the past few days.
                                                                     * * * * *
After I step out of the shower, I consult my shabby appearance. There are freckles all over my face and shoulders, and there is a giant birthmark on my neck. I rub the brown splat as if it were a chunk of dirt. Quickly, I change into my nightclothes and run out to join my friends at the dinner table.
"Ah, Birdie, how nice of you to join us!" Leon calls from where he, Ty and Papa sit crowded at the counter. They eat from styrofoam bowls, shoveling the old man's concoction into their mouths.
I snag a bowl from the microwave and open up the drawer to get cutlery, but Leon stops me.
"Use a plastic fork, please, we need to get rid of them" I grin at his efforts to conserve space, and reach into the highest cabinet to get some utensils.
I pull up my chair to the counter and start stuffing my face with the surprisingly not-horrible chicken.
Ty stares at me in disgust.
"You eat like a pig." he says, exposing the half-chewed food in his mouth for all of us to see.
"Right, 'cause you have such great table manners." I retort, taking a swig from my glass of milk.
"Shut up,the two of you!" Papa laughs.
When I finish, the sky is already beginning to darken. Leon and Papa leave to tend to the debris on the beach. Ty and I are left alone once again. 
I surf through the channels, stopping to view programs for minutes at a time. My eyes begin to feel groggy and my arms feel heavy. Soon my eyelids begin to droop and I am fast asleep.
I wake suddenly. I can hear my father's snores from the other couch. My heart skips a beat as the clocks begin to chime loudly. I count silently. After the clocks ding twelve times, I lie back down and close my eyes once more.
I sit up at the sound of a crash and look to the door.
"Ouch." the figure hisses, before getting up from the ground and opening the door. He slips outside and into the night.
"Ty." I call quietly. "Where are you going?"
There's no reply so I get up from the soft sofa and trudge to the door. I slide into my shoes and follow Tyler outside. The night air is cool enough to make me shiver as I dart across the yard and after the boy.
Ty walks through the forest, fully dressed, occasionally stumbling over a branch or root. Eventually, he slips through the open door of an old barn. The weakened structure sways in the wind, creaking as if it were about to collapse.
I kneel down next to the wide double-doors, trying to overhear why Ty has ventured into an abandoned barn. From the inside, I can hear a few faint voices, so I press my ear against the door frame and listen.
"Well hello there, weirdo" After about ten minutes of eavesdropping on the boring coversation going on inside, a voice hidden by the double-doors makes me jump. "I thought you would join us" Tyler's hand reaches outside and pulls me into the barn.
The time of night hides everyone's faces, but I can tell that they're the kids from around town, from their rude remarks towards me.
"Look who's here" Claire remarks, pointing a beer bottle towards me. Everyone laughs.
"You shouldn't be underage drinking" I pout, hugging my knees up to my chest and trying to keep my hands from shaking with nerves. These people, they've done so many horrible things to me. Why would they invite me to talk with them?
"Whatever. Want one?" A boy who has his arm wrapped around the girl calls. I shake my head, declining the offer.
"Okay. We'll spit it out. All of us have been discussing it, and have decided that we're sorry about what you had to go through" Claire shrugs. The rest of the room nods in agreement, and they all take another sip.
Would these people really want to be my friends? I ask myself, giddy and angry at the same time. The people who are gathered around me, they're bad people. What they did to me, and what they're doing to me, is unforgiveable. But, there's a small voice inside my head that makes me smile like a little girl.
Another boy tosses a drink at me. The second my reflexes kick in and I grab the bottle before it shatters on the ground, Papa groggily peeks his head through the door.
"Are you here, Birdie and Ty?" He looks up to see me holding a bottle of beer. "Kestrel, what are you holding?" His face reddens, and the middle-aged man storms into the stuffy barn. "ANSWER ME!"
"Mr. VanTaraden, it was all so scary! Ke-Birdie brought us here, and forced us to drink this alcohol- we're not even 19 yet!" A voice pipes from behind me, and I turn around in astonishment.

A/N EEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee we tried to write a cliff-hanger this time. it failed.
So, who's this mystery person that's blaming all these horrible things on Birdie? The poor girl!
Anyway, We're sorry about the lack of ideas. Although, if everything went our way, we'd already be done this story, made billions of dollars, bought times square and built a llama shaped gummy-bear store there. Just sayin'
So, I hope everyone's fine with the slight inappropriateness of this chapter... eep

~Fedora and What

A/N Hello everyone! Here's chapter four, I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a comment/critique! :)

"One second" Papa slams the receiver down, and stares intensely at me. Reflexes make my hands shoot up into the air. "Where have you been all day?"
"I helped Mr. Koppinger clean out his house. I'm so sorry!" I run towards my father, who is jamming the hold button on the phone with his thumb.
"I told you not to make me worry again" He pouts as I wrap my arms around his stomach. My forehead barely reaches Papa's shoulders even if I stand on my toes. Pa lets go of the button and reattaches the receiver to his ear. "Sorry about that, Leon." is followed by an "Of course, we'd love to" as a smile creeps across his wrinkled face.
"What did he have to say?" I question once he finally hangs up.
"We're going to go out to dinner with the Koppingers soon! By the way, what's his grandson like?" He nags, and a groan escapes me.
"Um... Honestly, he needs work" I adjust a strap on my overalls. My eyes trail to Papa, who is clutching his center and laughing.
"I thought so. Now, go get dressed in something nicer" He wags his finger as I drag my feet over to my bedroom. "Want to look sophisticated for our trip to the fancy restaurant" I shut the door and tug on khakis and a t-shirt, knowing that the fanciest eatery around is a trucker stop. I brush the tangles out of my unruly hair and give the mirror a little satisfied nod before I walk out the door. Papa ushers me down the porch steps to Mr. Koppinger's idle hummer, and we jump into the back seats. The car smells of bubblegum and spearmint. By car, it usually takes a little less than an hour to reach the restaurant, but with Leon's powerful vehicle the ride whizzes by in much less time. There is not much talking between the four of us, except for the occasional directions given by Papa.
 There are few restaurants in Wrenside. The four of us pull up to a familiar greasy spoon and tumble out of Leon's car. The building in front of us has siding peeling off of the outer walls, and the structure leans slightly towards the left. A typical trucker's stop.
Ty stares at the ancient diner and shudders. I hear a murmur emit from him, "What a dump! There's better garbage cans in Salt Lake City" He flips open his cell phone and taps away on the keyboard while walking through the door. The interior of the restaurant is stuffed full of sweaty truck drivers. We seat ourselves at the only empty table and an elderly waitress hobbles over to welcome us. The stand up comedian at the front of the room was telling horrible jokes, but there are a few people who roar with laughter. We order our food and sip on sodas while we wait. The comedian says something that seems important, and I turn to catch the rest of his sentence.
"Two lovers sitting over there, so cute" The greasy-looking truck drivers turn towards our table, and I can hear Pa and Leon laughing behind me. Ty's face is red with anger. "Why don't you come up here?" The crowd roars and I realize that the dull entertainer is talking about Tyler and I. The boy's hands clench at his sides, and he screams at the comedian.
"We're NOT lovers! We'll never be! Look at her" I look down at my shaking hands and stick them under my legs to make them stop. The whole room is quiet. Ty looks even more embarrassed when he sits back down, obviously ashamed that he yelled like that. The customer's attention is back on their food, and the entertainer is back to making bad jokes. 
"Well, it's true" Ty says, wanting to confirm the fact that he hates me. My eyes suddenly well up with uncontrollable tears, and I rush out of the door and into the scape of woods behind the restaurant. Paths wind and bend around each other and the knots created by tree roots are hazards as I dash through the thick wood. I reach a climbable tree, and scale it with ease. I sit a few feet from the ground, and let myself cry. The tears roll down my freckled cheeks, little drops of worry landing on my shirt. I crouch on the sturdy branch like that for awhile, until I hear footsteps approaching.
"Birdie? Little bird?" Papa and Leon appear in the distance, with what I can see is a moping Tyler trailing behind them. "We have your food here... I'll just put it down" my father places a foil-wrapped hamburger and a box of fries down on a tree stump. When they start to leave, I hop down from my perch and unwrap the burger, chowing down on it hungrily, and do not notice the boy sulking back towards me.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I guess" I look up, meat crumbling from between my lips. Ty stands before me. "I was being... uh, mean"
"No problem" I manage to say without spitting out any more of my dinner, or thinking, it seems.
"Good. By the way, Kessy, Grandpa wanted me to ask you to go to the beach tomorrow... so yeah" I stare at him in disbelief, and swallow a giant bite of burger.
"I can't BELIEVE you! Why would you be so rude to me? No, I don't forgive you. How can you say anything like that?" I throw my meal on the ground, causing sauce to spray up everywhere. "I didn't think it was this possible for someone to be so rude!" My words hit him like a wildfire and Ty puffs out his chest. "Well, aren't you one to talk" He replies snarkily.
I stand up as straight as I can, trying to match his height. He just laughs and sneers down at me.
"You are the most disgusting person I have ever met." I spit in his face.
"You're the most disgusting person I have ever met." He imitates in a high pitched mocking tone. It takes all of my strength not to punch him in the stomach.
"You're immature." I jab my chin high into the air and place my hands on my hips.
"And you're annoying." he jeers, neither of us willing to break eye contact. "And you're so weird!"
His words sting more than he could have ever imagined. The ground swerves and my knees give out. I can't stop the memories of the tears and bruises, the solitude and the unshakeable feeling of worthlessness, never being accepted, all because I was "weird."
"Isn't Kestrel weird?" they would ask each other as I walked by. "She just so stupid and weird!"
Sometimes I would call out to them, "Why? Why am I so weird?" and they would just pretend as though the words had never even left my mouth. Then it got worse. Papa would ask about the scrapes and swelling, and I would lie and tell him I fell.
"My clumsy little Bird!" he would ruffle my hair and hold me on his lap while I would silently cry into his shoulder.
I think that Izzy knew, but he didn't know how bad it was until that dreadful night on the dock when they tangled me in the net and dipped me in the ocean for the minute and a half that lasted an eternity.
Pa pulled me out of school the next morning. When the children were confronted, my father told me of how they begged and pleaded, insisting that "it was just a game". There was no punishment.
Papa fumed for weeks. He was considering getting a lawyer, but everyone knows that there are no lawyers in Wrenside. There was nothing that we could do.
"Hey..." Ty kneels beside me. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head and push him away.
"Ke- Birdie?" he pushes himself from the forest floor and peers down at me. "Where I come from, weird isn't much of an insult but I've never been to Wrenside before so-"
"Go away." I mumble. Tyler still hovers above me, looking around the forest as though he's trying to find someone to help.
"Go away!" I repeat, much more forceful this time. Ty backs away.
"I'm sorry Birdie." he says softly. "I'm sorry..."
I tilt my head up to look up at the blonde boy apologizing. Despite my anger and annoyance, not to mention the rawness from the unexpected flashback, I reach up and take his hand. He pulls me to my feet and leads me back through the twisting forest towards the restaurant. When we near the door, I stop abruptly and stare him straight in the face.
"I still don't like you." I growl, then turn on my heel and leave him standing by himself outside the unsightly establishment.
"Where's Tyler?" Leon asks as I sit down at the table again.
"He's coming." I frown, grabbing a handful of fries from Papa's plate. Sure enough, seconds later, Ty is seated beside me, chewing obnoxiously on his burger. I avoid any eye contact with him. 
"Well, should we get going?" Leon asks, gathering his things from the tablecloth and carries our check over to the desk. While he pays, Papa, Ty and I head outside to warm up the car's engine. I haul myself into the passenger's seat and await Mr.Koppinger.
"Move it" Ty snarls greedily. "Please"
"I'd rather sit here, thank you very much"
"Hey, Hey, I'm going to sit in the front seat!" Pa rounds the corner, and shoves me out of the vehicle goofily. "You two can sit in the back" Ty admits defeat and the two of us pile into the squished seats, but he shuffles as far away as possible from me. As Leon climbs into the driver's seat, my father strikes up a conversation.
"We'll have to deal with your boat tomorrow." he says to Mr.Koppinger, who steers the car out of the parking lot and down the bumpy road.
I lean forwards and stick my face in between their seats.
"How are you going to do that?" I ask curiously. Ty sighs loudly.
"What?" I snap at him. "I want to know."
Tyler just shrugs and stares out his window at the trees flashing by.
"We'll have to get some help." Papa twists in his seat to face me, grinning.
"Oh." I sit back in my seat and roll down my window. At the car's high speed, the wind smacks me in the face and sends my hair whipping in every which direction.
"Roll up the window!" Ty snarls, glaring at me.
"Tyler!" Leon scolds, flicking on the radio to a classical station, one of the only signals we can pick up in Wrenside. "Birdie can keep her window open if she wants to."
I smirk at Ty and he just scowls in return. After about five minutes, I'm freezing and wrap my arms tightly around me.
Ty notices the goosebumps dotting my arms and sneers.
"Why don't you roll up the window?" he asks, and I shoot him the meanest look I can manage.
"I'm fine." I reply through my clenched teeth.
"My goodness, they fight like brother and sister!" Mr.Koppinger tries to whisper to Papa, but his whispers are more like talking in a raspy voice, so both Ty and I hear him perfectly.
"Imagine living with someone like you." I hiss and Ty just smiles.
"Imagine living with someone like you." He retorts. "That would be h-"
"That's enough you two." Pa says sternly, turning and tapping my leg. Both of us are silent all the ride home.
When we get home, I say a curt goodbye to Leon and climb out without a word to Tyler.
I grab grandpappy's sketchbook the second I get in my room, needing a break. I flip through the pages of . My father appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
"Hi, Papa." I don't even look up.
"Birdie, tonight wasn't good." he says calmly. "I expected you to be more mature."
"But Pa-"
"No buts, Birdie." My father interrupts, waving a hand in the air as if to erase any excuses. "That boy was out of line, but you could've handled it so much better."
I stare up at Papa, the stress from the hard work at the marina etched into his freckled face. My throat is feeling tight, so all I can do is nod. Pa seems satisfied and leaves me be. I look down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, and decide that it's okay to draw in my grandfather's book. For about an hour, charcoal scratches against bumpy paper and I smile at my accomplishment.
"Pretty good"
I study the drawing for a while, however each second that I stare at it, it turns uglier and uglier until it is nothing but a horrible blob scribbled on the yellowed page. Each little mistake that I find makes me want to cry.
"No." I whisper, tearing the sheet from the book. "It's all wrong!" I smash the paper between my hands into a crumpled ball that fits in my fist. I toss it across the room and it rolls under the dresser. I bury my face in my pillow and try not to cry, but I can't help but let out a few muffled sobs. I get up from my bed, my eyes puffy and red, and drag myself to the kitchen. I open the fridge, then close it after not finding anything I wanted to eat. I grab a box of cookies from the counter and sit down the couch. I flip aimlessly through the channels, but nothing particularly catches my eye as interesting.
After about two hours of surfing through different shows, I drift off, the cookies resting on my stomach, remote in hand.
I wake up to someone shaking my shoulder gently. My eyes open to the dark living room and Papa standing above me, pulling on his jacket.
"Birdie, get up." He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. "It was called that the storm will be arriving earlier than expected. We have to get Leon's yacht out as soon as possible."
The cookies all spill onto the carpet and I scoop them up and dump them roughly on the coffee table.
"I'll just get dressed." I say, trudging to my room, bumping into the side table in the dark.
Pa and I take the short walk back over to the Marina, and I scan the sky for signs of approaching storm clouds. Dark grey clouds roll, but the hurricane doesn't look like it's hit yet. Behind the fog I can see Leon rushing in and out of his ship hauling out the odds and ends he had stored in there. The first raindrop splashes right into my eye and I jolt into action. My first order of business is to gather up my friend's things and stuff them into plastic bags while he and Papa maneuver the yacht onto a monstrous trailer. I then tug my hood over my head of soaked hair and drag the sacks over to the shed, a building by our house that is much more stable and trustworthy during a storm. Pa and I are carrying matresses and food rations into the small shed's cellar when Leon calls out to us.
"Come on, the sky's beginning to look stormier" He yells from his truck. I throw the foamy matresses down past the opened hatch and lay down the bags of food. Afterwards, we slam the door closed, lock it and climb into the back of Mr.Koppinger's truck. He speeds off down the road bumpy road. Despite the windshield wipers flying as fast as they can, the street ahead of us is still blurred from the rain pounding the vehicle.
"Well, that came fast." Papa remarks, peering out his window at the dark clouds moving in quickly from the south. "How about we drop you, Birdie, off at home to grab the rest of our things while Leon and I go and put the boat away and pick up Ty? We'll meet you back in the shed."
"Okay." I reply as we pull up beside my house. The wind is already strong enough to bend the trees and send debris flying past me as I dash up the steps and into the rickety building. I grab grandpappy's sketchbook from beside my bed and stuff a couple of dry pairs of socks for Pa in my pockets. I scan the room for anything to bring and decide to throw a deck of cards and some ancient novel from the nearly empty bookshelf into a plastic bag. It was definitely going to be boring trapped in that little cellar for who-knows-how-long. I shove the sketchbook under my sweater to keep it dry and pull on my hood once again before sprinting outside and through the cold to the shed. I slam the door behind me and sit in the dark shed. I brush away some spiderwebs tickling my face and pile the stuff that I had brought onto the floor. It had been quite a while since I had last been in here.
I sit down and pull out my sketchbook, but before I can start to draw, I hear something above the howling wind outside. Definitely a girl, but she didn't sound distressed. It sounded more like a laugh. I throw open the door and see two figures walking out in the rain.
"Hey!" I call, waving to them. "You should really get to a shelter!" They either can't hear me or choose to ignore me. I pull on my hood once again and run after them. I freeze as I get close.
"Oh hey, Kestrel." the girl sneers. My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
"Hi, Claire." I whisper and she puts her hands on her hips. "You really should get inside. The storm is getting worse."
"Hey, Kessy, why don't you just go away already?" the boy says and I squint.
"Ty?" I ask and he just smirks. "Ty, go home and get your stuff. Papa and Leon are probably looking for you."
"Uh, no." Ty rolls his eyes, rain rolling down his head and dripping from the ends of his hair.
"Go back and draw some more stupid pictures, Kestrel." Claire snaps, grabbing Ty by the elbow and starting to walk away.
I stare after them for a moment. Ty twists from her grasp to turn back to look at me. I start to chase them again.
"Tyler, really!" I beg. "This is dangerous! Go home!"
The boy snorts. "Home is Salt Lake City, and if I could go home, trust me, I'd be there in a heartbeat."
Claire nods. "Wrenside is probably the most boring town in the world."
I ignore Claire and grab Ty's shirt. "Come on, Ty."
"Whoa," Claire steps in, pushing me away. "Back off."
"Shut up." I growl, glaring at her.
"Ooh, Kestrel, still as angry and weird as she was when she was a child." Claire spits. Ty backs up and stands there watching us. I look to him for help but he avoids my gaze.
The wind whips my wet hair into my face. "Please don't say that."
Claire laughs. "Why not? You know that it's true. I mean, come on, you know why you don't have any friends, rights?"
I shake my head and stare down at my soaked shoes.
"It's because you're you, Kestrel." she jabs a finger into my stomach. "You're stupid, you're weird, you're ugly. Even your mother didn't want you."
I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek. Ty is completely silent.
"Do you hear me, Kestrel?" Claire demands and I nod.
"I can't hear you." she puts a hand to her ear.
"Yes." I choke out.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I hear you. I'm weird and stupid and nobody likes me."
Claire smiles maliciously and shoves me hard enough to knock me onto the wet and muddy grass.
"Now come on, Ty." She starts to walk away, but Tyler doesn't move.
"Actually, I should probably go home... I forgot about... something." he replies and she shrugs and disappears down the path into the trees.
I bury my face in my hands and sob as Ty comes up to me and pulls me to my feet. He doesn't say a word as he leads me back to the shed. I close my eyes as he pulls me by the arm through the door and sits me down in the corner. He pulls a blanket from the pile stacked against the wall and wraps one tightly around me.
"Stay here, idiot." he says harshly. "I'm going to go get my stuff before the storm gets worse. Don't get in anymore fights."
I scowl at him and he chuckles.
"Wow, this is going to be fun staying here with you, isn't it?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Trust me, you're just as great of company." I say through clenched teeth. He rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and disappears outside into the growing storm. I crawl over and grab my sketchbook from where it lays, flipping through the pages. One drawing makes me stop. It's a little girl with waves in her hair clutching a pocketwatch. The date scribbled in the corner tells me that it was the last drawing he drew before he died. I start to panic at the realization that I had left the watch in the treehouse.
I get up and race outside and into the woods. I sprint down the familiar, twisting path to the old fort and scramble up the ladder. Halfway up, a sneeze from inside makes me stop. Peeking up, I spot Claire digging through my stuff. She scoops up some magazines and casually tosses them out the window to the soggy ground. The wind rattles the small house and I quickly jump to the ground as the wooden building shakes violently. I spread the magazines out, searching for the watch, but it isn't there. I dive behind a tree as the rope ladder creaks and Claire descends. She walks off down the path away from the docks, but before I can get into the treehouse, a gust of wind with great force sends the tree waving, branches breaking off and scattering in every direction. The fort lets out a groan before the tree crashes to the ground and shatters the old wooden planks that made up my treehouse.
I gape at it for a second before some tiny hail plummets from the clouds and I run back to the shed. The pellets pound against the roof as I try not to cry.
"It's going to be okay." I reassure myself. "We'll find it as soon as the storm ends." I huddle back into the blanket from earlier and rub my toes to thaw them out.

A/N Okay.... where do we begin...
Sorry this chapter is out late, and that it's a few hundred words short! I (What) accidentally forgot about our chapter-by-chapter plan, wrote the rest of this chap, looked through the plan, deleted half of the story.
Nuggets.
But whatever, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and leave a comment!
OOOOOooooooooooo next chapter should be awesome!
-Fedora and What, signing out :)

A/N Chapter three? Whoa! We are going to redo chapter one... sometime...
but don't worry! It's not going to be as bad next time :P we promiseeeee
This chapter Ty is coming! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee


The next day, I find myself spending the day in Leon's cottage once again. The old man stands in front of the yellowed mirror, examining his ragged appearance.
"Maybe I should get a hair cut" He runs his fingers through the untidy hair draping over his shoulders. I glance at my reflection behind him, comparing my short, choppy locks to his long strands. "I'll just brush it" Mr. Koppinger cringes as he detangles his rat's nest of hair. I walk over to collect the pots and pans scattered over the kitchen island, trying to continue the chore we had started earlier. I stack them into an already stuffed cabinet, and shove the door closed, walking over to the cutlery drawer to continue our work.
"Don't worry about the kitchen, Birdie, I'll handle that. I would love it if you could organize the spare bedroom, though" He motions towards the hallway, and I gladly shuffle into the small room. The bed is crowded with multicoloured duvets and soft pillows. Books are stacked on the rugs covering the floor, dirt collecting on the torn covers. I flop down on the bed and a cloud of dust billows out around me.
"We have a lot of work to do." I cough and Leon peeks his head around the door.
"Pull all the covers off and we'll hang them outside." he instructs and I drag the heavy blanket through the house, down the front steps and throw them over the crooked clothesline. When I get back inside, Mr.Koppinger is balancing on top of a teetering stack of boxes, trying to reach something behind the tall chest of drawers. 
"Oh, Leon, let me get it!" I cry as he wobbles dangerously. He climbs down slowly and I hop onto the massive pile of boxes and strain to reach behind the dresser. I grab something square and then before I can stop it, I topple over and crash to the ground. The picture frame slips from fingers and shatters.
"Birdie, are you okay?" he grabs my arm as a stagger to my feet.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I sit down on the couch and rub the welt on my head. "But I don't know about your picture" I hold up the busted frame and peer at the photo trapped inside. The picture is of a family. A little boy stands between his parents, and I can see Leon resting his hands on the boy's shoulders, a smile plastered on his face.
"Ah" Mr. Koppinger grins and takes the cracked frame from my grasp. "That's my son-" he points to the father, "That's his wife, and there's little Ty, when he was four years old" Leon slides the picture from the wrecked frame. He grabs another frame from a stack in the corner, and slips the photo into it. He passes the photo back to me and gets up to sweep away the shattered glass. I position the frame beside the numerous vases on the coffee table.
"I'll finish cleaning the spare bedroom" 
Back in the dusty room, I begin to carry the multiple piles of books and dump them on the kitchen table. I go back to the bedroom and peer under the bed. I suddenly scream and jump onto the bed. 
“What’s wrong?” Mr.Koppinger races in.
“A mouse!” I shriek. “There’s a mouse under the bed!”
Leon leans over and looks under the bed frame.
“Oh, it’s dead.” I shudder and curl up into a ball. He pulls in the vacuum and maneuvers the nozzle underneath the bed. After  I hear the rodent’s bony body travel through the tube and land in the vacuum bag, I tentatively step back onto the floor.
"You can't have mice in your house!" I cross my arms over my chest. "It's unsanitary!"
Mr.Koppinger looks embarrassed.
"Okay, okay, I promise to go buy traps later, okay?" He sighs, unlatching the vacuum bag and dumping its contents out the window. I finish getting the room ready for Ty, and head to Leon's bedroom.
"Holy guacamole!" I exclaim, as the whiff of curdled milk and mouldy sandwiches hits my nose like a semi truck. "Good thing we're cleaning, this is even less sanitary than the dead mouse" I stumble through sweatshirts stacked high, clutching my nose.  The bed smells like greasy narwhals, and by this point I have vomit in the back of my throat.  I begin to pile various articles of muddy clothing into a hamper, and repeat the action into the twenty other hampers Leon has folded in the corner. Ten minutes pass before I hear Mr. Koppinger speak.
"Say, why haven't you been working at the marina lately? You used to be there every day" I turn towards the man, who is dusting off crates of knickknacks. He raises a furry eyebrow.
"It's like this every hurricane season" I explain, placing a newspaper on the bed so that I can sit down. "Papa is always worrying about the storm hitting earlier than expected, so he shuts down the docks early" I reposition the sheet of paper, making sure not to get a grimy patch on my butt from the comforter. "I never really have to do any work when there are no customers" I giggle, and scratch the healing burn on my shoulders. The room looks much neater than when we entered, because there aren't mountains of clothing piled up to the ceiling. Picking up a stuffed hamper in each hand, I manage my way over to the washer, which is located outside of Leon's bedroom. The drum is filled to the brim with only one hamper-full, so I groan and plop the others down beside the clothing washer.
"Whew!" Mr.Koppinger exhales, wiping the imaginary sweat from his brow. "That was a lot of work, I think that we deserve a little break!" I follow him down the hall to the kitchen and sit down at the table as he rummages through the nearly-empty refrigerator. He grabs everything in one armful and plops it all down on the counter.
"Just take whatever you want." he says, pulling two glasses from the cabinet and filling them both with tap water.
I avoid taking the suspicious smelling cheese and settle for the safest thing I can find; a chocolate pudding cup. Leon sits down at the table beside me and sighs. I look at the pile of food on the counter and then back at him with my eyes narrowed.
"I know, I know. I should've went shopping." Leon raises his hands and then hides them underneath the oak table. "But I've just been so busy lately!"
I open the pudding cup and sniff it it tentatively. It smells alright, so I cautiously dip my spoon in and lick it.
Mr.Koppinger drums his fingers on the table and sips his water. The sun pours through the now-clean window pane and lights the kitchen in its soft glow. Beautiful days like this make me wonder about Mom. Thoughts like where she is and if she's happy. Does she ever think of me? Maybe even regret leaving her daughter? Miss me?
Then I remember her new family and imagine their big house in the city, all of them cozy in their fancy living room, crowded around the electric fireplace. Does she remember her old house, with the tearing wallpaper and the holes in the roof? Does she remember that she left me there?
Sometimes I think that I'd like to see her, even for just an hour. I could talk to her, hug her and then when she left with a proper goodbye, it would be some sort of closure for me, so that I'm not always feeling so empty and lost. But then I think about her pulling up in her nice car with her new daughter with her friends laughing in the backseat at the loser daughter with the mommy issues. I think about seeing my mother look at me and thinking, "Good thing I left!" I just want to know if she kept her promise about always loving me. Maybe she has, or maybe she's simply forgot about the little girl that she left behind. I shudder and lick the remaining globs of pudding from the little plastic container.
"You know, you really should buy some more food." I say, putting the spoon inside the empty cup. It tips over and rolls towards me. "You're going to have a teenaged boy living around here."
"Oh, I never thought of that!" Leon sighs, running a hand down the back of his neck. He rummages in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Slapping a couple bills down onto the table, he grins.
"Do you think you could go, you'd know better what to buy."
I get up and take the money.
"Sure. I'll be back in twenty minutes." I reply, turning and walking outside into the sunny afternoon. Walking down Main Street, I barely see anyone out around town. There is a soft breeze caressing my face, and as I cross the creek that seperates Leon's house from the small village, I can feel the chilly water splash up onto my ankles.
I get to the store merely minutes later. I grab a basket and head straight to the snack aisle.
"Ty must like chips..." I mutter to myself, pulling a bag from the shelf. "I mean, everyone likes chips!"
I pile more and more food into the basket, adding whatever I think Ty will eat. I buy mostly frozen food or junk food, remembering Leon's horrific crepe. When I turn down the aisle with the shelves stacked high with canned goods, I am surprised to see Kittie at the other end of the aisle, browsing through a variety of baked beans. She picks up a can examines it before pulling her wallet from her purse. She skims through the bills and sighs, shaking her head and placing the food back along the identical cans.
For a second, I feel bad for her. She can't even afford to buy food for herself. The pity vanishes quickly though, as I see her take the can again and slip it discreetly into her bag. Kittie looks up and her stare bores into my eyes.
She raises one finger, places it to her lips and then slides it across her throat in the well-known sign for 'tell and you're dead.' My heart hammers and all the terrible things that she could do to me flood my mind. Before I can stop myself, I nod shakily and satisfied, she turns on her heel and walks away.
I follow her to the checkout. She pays for a few items, but the cashier doesn't seem to notice her bulging purse. She leaves quickly and I pay for the food I'm purchasing as fast as I can and chase after her.
Kittie walks rapidly down the street and I jog after her calling her name.
"Kittie, stop right now!" I holler, and she breaks out into a run. I sprint behind her and feeling cornered, she reluctantly slows to a shameful trudge.
"Kittie, what was that?" I jab my hand angrily in the direction of the grocery store. Kittie looks me straight in the face and frowns.
"What was what?" she asks innocently, tilting her head slightly. I glare at her.
"Don't be stupid." I growl. "We both know what you did." I rip her bag from her shoulder and open to see all her stolen things. There's some cans of food, a tube of toothpaste, probably ten dollars worth of candy and a magazine.
I empty the objects onto the sidewalk.
"Look at all this!" I cry, waving my hands in the air like a maniac. "Kittie, you can't st-"
Kittie slaps a hand over my mouth.
"Shut up." she hisses, gathering her stuff and leading me down a back alley. It's dark and cool, and for a second I panic, thinking that she's going to beat me up. Shockingly though, she crumples to the ground in sobs.
"I walked in there with every intention of paying, Birdie, honestly!" she whimpers, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "It's just so expensive... I mean..."
I exhale and sit on the ground beside her.
"You could have asked Papa for money." I say pointedly. "I'm sure he could've helped you."
"I know..." Kittie whispers. "But it's just so... embarrassing!"
"We'll help you." I answer, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "Just promise never to steal again." Kittie throws the items back into her purse, and walks away. I watch the slight body fade into the distance and sigh. I pick up my various bags of junk and pop open a box of cheese puffs. By the time I have finished my snack, I am back standing on Leon's porch, as I have done many times before. As I walk in, I can smell the strong scent of cleaning product. I set the paper bags on the counter and begin to stock the food into empty cupboards. Leon rounds the corner, and smiles at me. I can tell that he's been working on the laundry.
"Ty's mother called. He'll be arriving shortly" He folds a sweater and places it into a growing pile. I hear the creak of a door and tear through the hallway to straighten the guests's bedspread. I catch my reflection in the mirror hanging in the hall and wish that I had brought a hairbrush. I try to stick my hair behind my ears for a moment before giving up and racing to finish the chores. There's a knock on the front door and Mr.Koppinger answers cheerily.
"Ty! Come on in!"
I peek around the corner, trying not to be noticed, but Leon sees me and calls "Birdie, come meet Ty!"
I enter the living room and turn to face Tyler. 
"H-hi" I stammer, avoiding look him in the face.
He nods and Leon claps his hands. "I hope that you two are going to be friends!"
I take a deep breath. "Hi, I'm Kestrel." I wrinkle my nose at my unused name. "But you can call me Birdie. I work at the marina where your grandfather docks his boat!"
"I'm Ty." Ty rolls his head back and I finally get a good look at his eyes.
"Nice to meet you." I reply and stick out my hand. He stares at it and then tucks his own hands in his pockets. Mr.Koppinger doesn't seem to notice though and beams at his grandson.
"I'm going to go get some snacks!" he calls, heading to the kitchen. "You two make yourselves at home!"
Ty flops down on the couch and grabs a magazine from the side table. When I sit down beside him, he not-so-subtly inches away.
"I don-" I start, but he interrupts me.
"Look, I won't bother you as long as you don't bother me, got it?" Tyler threatens, putting his feet up onto the coffee table. I catch the frame that was replaced earlier and fold it underneath the chesterfield. Before I can reply, Leon is back, balancing a tray of drinks.
"Thank you." I take one from him and place it on the table. Ty take one, but it slips from his fingers. He swears as the cola soaks into the carpet. Mr.Koppinger and I are on our knees, cleaning up the mess while Ty turns to lie down on the sofa.
"Aren't you going to help?" I snap, dabbing the rug with a paper towel. "You're the one who spilled it."
Ty exhales loudly and rolls his eyes. He gets down on the floor and is wipes at the stain with a napkin. He then gets up and drags himself to his room.
Leon is oblivious to Tyler's rudeness.
"Isn't he just the best?" His eyes sparkle with pride. I shrug, but don't say anything, not wanting to hurt the old man.
I get up and see Ty's bag lying by the door. It feels surprisingly light considering he is staying for two months, but I shake the feeling off.  I lay the duffel outside of his room, and walk back to the kitchen where Leon is sitting, giddy, at the island. I slide in beside him, and pluck a cheese cube from the giant platter of snacks he had readied. While I munch on the squishy delicacy, my good friend twiddles his thumbs for awhile, but finally speaks up.
"I know that Ty isn't exactly the most well-behaved boy out there" He sighs, and stabs another cube with a toothpick. "Like I said a few days ago, I think being here will be good for him. Please, Birdie, will you put up with him for that long?" I look up, Mr. Koppinger's eyes sincere. I ponder his suggestion for awhile. I was never too good at handling people who were unrationally rude and I wasn't exactly willing to be up to that challenge. As much as I hated the task I was put up to, it was my duty to complete it. 
"Of course" I smile. 
"Hey, Birdie, I have a present for you" Mr. Koppinger reaches into the satchel hanging on his stool and heaves out a thick book, with sleek black covers and a strap of leather tied around the middle. I gasp, taking the sketchbook from his hands, and hug it to my chest. Tears pop out of my eyes and roll down my flushed cheeks.
"This- is it? It's Grandpappy's?" On the Sundays we spent together, we would always sketch things after eating lunch. Most of the time, Grandpa would just look at me while I drew, not using his sketchbook much at all. I can still see him sitting beside me, the book I hold resting in his lap. "I can't believe it" My tears are hitting the open pages as I flip through the first few sketches. "Thank you so much" Leon 's hand pats my back comfortingly.
"You're welcome, sweetie"
I grab a tissue just as Tyler walks into the room and snags a handful of pretzels.
"Why are you crying? Such a wuss" He spits, spraying bits of food onto the clean counter. I swallow my tears before I say anything rude, remembering my promise to Leon. Ty opens the fridge, and grabs a cola. "I'll be at the beach" 
"I should probably go, too" I hug Mr. Koppinger, thanking him greatly for the memory of Grandpappy, and walk out the door behind Ty. We trudge down the dirt road leading to our destinations for awhile. He doesn't talk, and neither do I, until the path finally fades into the sandy planks of the beach's boardwalk. Before we part ways, I stop to look at the tall boy.
"Have a good day!" I skip off, pulling the sketchbook in closer. I can hear him grunt, but don't really pay attention to it. On the short way from where I dropped off Tyler to my house, I am greeted by many people. I smile at each, and by the time I reach my front door I'm in a very cheery mood.
Deciding to go and sit down by the docks, I gather my own sketchbook and bring it along with Grandpappy's. I dangle my feet over the edge, my legs nowhere near long enough to touch my toes to the water. I open my Granfather's sketchbook and flip through the pages. The drawings are simple, yet breathtakingly beautiful.  My grandfather's extraordinary talent is visible in each stroke and I stare at each sketch for a good five minutes. One drawing makes me freeze. I run my hand over the page, a child with her sketchbook open on her lap etched into the paper. It takes a minute for it to register; that young girl is me. A tear rolls onto the page and I slam the book closed to avoid wrecking it. I put it down on the ground beside me and pick up my own sketchbook.
My drawings were ugly and horrible compared to Grandpappy's art. I sigh and try to draw the late afternoon sun reflecting off the ocean, but it was impossible to capture the moment. Frustrated, I violently scribble across the page, a black smear over the endless ocean. I'm out of control, covering ever corner of the page as dark as I can. The book slips from my lap and lands with a splash in the water below.
"No!"
I reach as far as I can, but I am unable to grab it. Panicking, I consider jumping in, but get a better idea and sprint down the dock.
I race down the dirt path to the shore and grab one of the kayaks from the small beach. The water is as smooth as glass, reflecting the setting sun across the sparkling ocean. I inhale at the stunning sight as I paddle rapidly to the docks.
As fast as I can, I thrust my paddle into the ocean and push myself over to my sinking sketchbook. I shake the water from the pages, but I'm doubtful that it will ever be usable again. I swallow and try to hold back the tears, but I had had the sketchbook since my grandfather had given it to me for my fifth birthday.
"I saw how you admired my sketchbook," I remember Grandpappy placing the sketchbook in my outstretched hands. "So I got you one just like mine."
I'm sobbing now. I tuck the book beside me in the boat and take off down the shoreline, too upset to think about what I'm doing.
Gliding across the water, I breathe in the salty air. The serenity of it all calms me down and soon my eyes are dry. I paddle for an hour before the sun dips further below the horizon and I am forced to head back.
A sudden cry followed by a splash makes my pulse quicken. Turning slightly I see someone behind me thrashing in the water beside an overturned kayak.
I paddle over as fast as I can. The boy struggles to swim, his head dipping below the surface and then popping up gasping. Finally he grabs a hold on his kayak and floats limp in the water.
"Climb on, I'll give you a ride back." I say as the boy turns to face me. "Oh, it's you."
Ty scowls at me, water running down his face.
I'm not sure why my heart flutters as he climbs on the back of my kayak, but I try to stay cool. His shirt clings to his broad shoulders and I quickly look away so he doesn't witness my blush.
"Are you okay?" I ask, but he just shivers in reply.
I start to paddle, dragging the soaked kayak along beside me.
"What were you doing out here by yourself?" I ask, nervously eyeing the darkening sky. Papa is going to be mad if I stay out late, especially since he's been working so hard in preparation for the hurricane.
"None of you business." Tyler snaps, staring at the land.
"Hey, you don't have to be so rude..." I feel my temper rising but try to remain calm. He just fell into the ocean, he has a right to be upset.
"Fine. I followed you." Ty grumbles. "But only because this town is so freaking boring and I didn't know what else to do. Apparently kayaking isn't as easy as it looks."
"You've never kayaked before?" I paddle harder, anxious to drop the angry boy off.
"Good observation." he replies sarcastically.
I'm getting mad now.
"Excuse me, but I just saved you so if-"
"Saved me?" Tyler snorts. "You think that you saved me? Don't be an idiot."
I spin around to face him.
"Idiot?" I practically shout in his face. "Are you calling me stupid?"
He stares me right in the eyes, puffs out his chest and answers cooly, "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Without thinking, I shove him and he topples into the water. He cries out, splashing and waving him arms. He grabs a hold of my kayak tightly.
"Get off." I snarl, trying to pry his fingers from the boat.
"Birdie!" Ty cries, desperately clinging on. "Please don't leave me!"
"Why not?" I challenge, crossing my arms defensively.
Ty stares up at me, a different look in his eyes. He looks weak and vulnerable, maybe even scared.
"Because you can't." he says, obviously trying to hide his fear. "I know that you're too nice to just leave me here."
I swallow. His words ring true; I knew that if I left him here in the dark with a sunken kayak and no directions to get back to town, I would feel massively guilty. I sigh and nod. He climbs back on the boat and is silent all the way home.
We reach the shore, and Ty hops out into the rising tide, sending splashes of sandy water up onto the shore.
"I'll be leaving now, I guess" He looks at his feet, kicking up sandy billows in the shallow ocean. He trudges away without a thank-you. I sigh and collect the water-logged sketchbook from the bench beside me, its pages too wrinkled to salvage, colours bleached from the salty water. I swing myself over the side of the kayak and drag it underneath the dock, tying an expert knot to keep it from floating away during the hurricane.
"Shoot!" In the distance, I can make out my grandfather's sketchbook laying open on the edge of the dock in danger of tipping into the water. Its leather ribbon is caught in the breeze but has yet to escape the pages of Grandpappy's book. I run as fast as I can towards the keepsake before it blows away. "Thank goodness" I exclaim, trying to keep it away from the sopping wet sketchbook I clutch in my other hand. My job was to keep my relative's book safe.


A/N This is so bad! We're sorry :P
I hope you enjoyed it! We've been practising our writing lately, and I think it's gotten better!
Critiques and comments of any kind are loved! We appreciate any feedback :)
~Fedora and What

A/N Just a reminder, we already wrote chapter one and two, and are working on chapter three right now. So yep :P


I wake up in the morning feeling rejuvenated. I drag my feet over to the kitchen table and find a reminder from Papa that says I need to head over to the marina at noon. I crumple in up and put it into the trash can before I get a bowl of cereal and eat in front of the TV. I have never really paid close attention to the weatherman's reports, but this certain bulletin snags my attention. I listen closely to what the stout man has to say.
"The forecast for this week looks almost flawless. Next week, on the other hand, will be a little difficult as hurricane Nicholai migrates up towards eastern Canada. I recommend readying storm shelters if you would prefer a safe and happy hurricane season. And this has been Up to Date Weather. On to you, Karen."
I tune out when the plastic-looking woman starts rambling about designer clothing and chihuahuas. When I finish my cereal, I ready a pot with water and get it on the element to boil. While the stove heats up, I sprint quickly to my bedroom and grab my sketchbook. I get back to the stove just in time to beat the whistle. My foot is lodged between the door and frame while I grab a box of charcoal and run out of the house with a mug of steaming tea in my hands.
Sitting on a mossy tree stump, I set my hot cup down and flip open my sketchbook to a blank page. I start to sketch out a circle, letting my hands decide what to draw instead of my brain.
I let my mind wander. Hurricane Nicholai is coming. We've had storms before, but this particular hurricane 
sounds bigger than any of the storms that's ever hit Wrenside.
The biggest hurricane I can remember is when I was only four years old. The house rattled and shook 
and the waves crashing violently against the shore could be heard for great distances.
I stood at the great window, staring up at the sky as dark as night. Papa and Mommy were racing around outside in their matching bright yellow raincoats, tying stuff down and piling tools in the shed.
"Birdie!" Izzy called from the kitchen. "Birdie, come here!"
I got there just in time to see the huge maple tree in front of our house come crashing down with an ear-splitting crack. My brother and I just stared in shock at the branches sprawled across the yard, leaves being spun everywhere in the strong wind.
And just like that I started sobbing. I screamed and cried, terrified. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and Mom ran up behind me in her large rubber boots. She scooped me up in her arms and held me close to her wet coat.
"It's okay, Kestrel." she whispered soothingly in my ear. I grabbed and a loose strand of her sopping hair and clenched it tight in my fingers.
Mom rubbed my back gently. "It's okay, Mommy's here."
The charcoal slips from my trembling fingers and I scramble to pick it up from the ground. The grey sky spins around me but I manage to sit back up before I fall over.
I examine my picture, a face with hair falling in soft waves around it. Definitely a woman's face, a very familiar one at that. Without a doubt, it was a portrait of my mother. I run my hand along the page, then I freeze. A nervous giggle escapes my lips, then I'm in hysterics. I jump up and the book slips from my lap into the dirt. I kick it away, then on second thought, rip out my latest drawing and crush it with my heel.
I'm laughing uncontrollably now, tears spilling down my cheeks. 
I take the demolished paper and squeeze it in my fist. Afterwards, I run out towards the 
dock, my feet sliding in the mud. I throw the ball of paper as far as I can into the rough water and take a deep breath of the salty air. I sink down onto the dock and bury my face in my hands, letting out one last giggle.
"What is wrong with me?" I ask the ocean, gathering my knees up to my chest.
The waves just rumble in reply.

I push myself up to my feet and head back to where I sketched. I pluck my sketchbook from the dirt and leaves and brush off the leather cover. There are maybe a few more bent pages, but no serious damage from my tantrum. Clutching the book tightly, I trudge up the steps to the cabin. Once I get inside, I bury myself into the couch and let the tears flow once again.
 
* * * * *
“You’re late, Birdie.” Papa scolds, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorry.” I murmur, bending down to tie my shoe to avoid meeting his gaze.
My father frowns.
“Is everything alright?” he asks. He leans down and gently touches my shoulder.
I stand up and scowl.“Everything’s fine, Papa.”
I get to work washing the grime off of one of the fishing boat, trying to focus on my cleaning instead of thinking about my mother. I get so absorbed in my work that I don’t notice Mr.Koppinger come up behind me.
“Hey, Birdie.”
I jump, knocking over my bucket of soapy water and soaking my legs.
“Oops, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” Leon chuckles, not sensing my bad mood.
“Yeah, whatever.” I grumble, kicking the empty bucket away.
Mr.Koppinger looks at me, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay, Birdie?” he says softly. “Do you want to talk?”
I stare at the old man with the suspenders strapped across his shoulders and grey hair. The way he dresses, the way he talks, he reminds me a lot of my grandfather. I have a sudden urge to hug him, to tell him what’s been bothering me, but I don’t move.
Leon shrugs.
“Okay, it’s up to you. Sometimes it helps to talk, but sometimes you just have to keep things to yourself. I understand.”
“Thanks.” I mutter, coiling up a rope and putting away.
“Have you drawn at all since we talked yesterday?” Mr.Koppinger smiles.
I sweep the deck of the boat and nod.
“Hm, did they seem any better to you?” Leon puts his hand on his hips and leans forward.
I think about the drawing of my mother and shuddered.
“No, not really.”
“Well,” Leon runs a hand through his thinning hair. “You’re just going to have to keep practicing.”
I shoot him a grin. “Yeah, I guess I will.”

After Mr.Koppinger leaves, I stare at the ground, lost in thought for a long time. I want to get back home so I can sketch, but I have to work all day.
“Birdie, can you help me with- AHH!”
“Papa!” I race to help him up from where he slipped in the puddle of water. “Are you 
okay?”
Pa groans, rubbing his head.
“Oh, Papa, your back! Should I get Dr. Norman?” I kneel beside him but he pushes me away.
“I’m fine, Birdie.” He says, trying to stand up.
“But Papa-“
“Kestrel!” my father snaps. He takes a deep breath. “I just slipped. I’m fine, but you really have to mop stuff up when you spill.”
I nod but I’m not really paying attention. I’m remembering Papa sprawled under the heavy crates, his eyes shut and his body frozen. 
The ambulance sounds in the distance as Izzy runs up and grabs Pa’s limp hand.
“Please, Pa.” he cries, holding the hand to his chest. “Please be 
alright.”
“Birdie?” Papa’s voice pulls me out of my little flashback. “Do you hear me, my little bird? I’m fine.”
I nod once more and hug him.
“I’m really fine, but I think I might want to just lay down with some ice for the rest of the day.” My father says gently, patting my back. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, Birdie.”
Pa smiles at me, but I can see that he is in pain.
“It is my fault,” I whisper quieter than he can hear. “Just as it was last time.” I stand up and grab the mop to clean up the soapy mess I made. Leon hoists Papa up and supports him with a strong arm. As they're 
hobbling away, my friend calls to me.
"Missed a spot!" Leon calls, pointing to my soaked knees.
"Ha, ha" I roll my eyes and continue mopping up the suds.

Our only employee, Kittie, is a very interesting character. She only shows up when she wants to, and when she finally decides to work, she barely does anything at all. I turn around slightly to see the slight young woman leaning against Leon's yacht.
"Wassaap" she slurs, walking over to me. Kittie puts down a bottle and I eye it nervously.
"Down in the dumps, are we?" she grabs my shoulder, but I push the hand away.
"go away, Kittie" I sneer, wringing the soaked mop into a bucket. "Take that bottle with you, too. We don't 
want to scare anyone away'' I gesture her half-finished beer and cross my arms. 
She swipes away the bottle and takes a swig.
"Why don't you go away, Kestrel?" The woman retorts, looking me up and down, as if she was pondering 
whether or not I would be worth her time. I glare at the drunkard for a moment, but sigh and proceed to put the mop away.
When I return that night, I turn around to find Mr. Koppinger cooking up dinner while Papa lies on the 
couch.
"Well, hello there!" Leon grins, flipping a mushy looking crepe in a pan. "How was the rest of your day?"
"Horrible. I mean, that employee at the marina... She's a weirdo. We should just fire her, Papa." I grimace, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. "I'll help you make dinner as long as you're okay with me probably wrecking it."
Leon smiles at me and gestures to the cutting board.
"Work your magic!" he says, passing me a knife. I take it from him and snag some produce from the refrigerator. The room is instantly filled with decadent aromas when I start chopping up the vegetables. Once I'm done, I admire my work, proud that I've actually managed to help prepare food for once in my 
entire life. Mr.Koppinger places our meal on the table, a mush of crepe, tomato and onion.
"I tried" he laughs, untying the frilly apron and placing it gingerly into a cabinet. I shuffle over to Pa, who hasn't been able to move much, and place his generous helping on the coffee table.
"bon appetit!" I exclaim, displaying a horrible French accent. Afterwards, I sit with Leon and 
dig in to my own portion.
"Tyler's coming soon" he says through his food.
"Who?"
"Oh, sorry, Ty's my grandson. He'll be arriving this Wednesday" I remember the weather report from this morning, and suddenly realize that Ty will be stuck in a storm a little later on during his stay.
"But, Leon, that's when they're suspecting the hurricane to hit Wrenside!" I frown.
"They're WHAT?!" my father practically yells, struggling to get up. "Hurricane Nicholai is going 
to be here any moment. We need to prepare!" He frantically screams. Papa has always despised storms of any type, because there is lots of preparation to be done at the marina. He needs to rid the dock of boats, empty out the fuel reservoir, and take care of all the other odd jobs.
"Calm down, Papa! Leon, have you ever experienced a hurricane? Do you know how to prepare?" I ask, 
pushing my plate forward. "Oh, Pa, that isn't a very good idea!" I look towards 
my father, who is halfway out the door.
"I guess I should go too" Mr. Koppinger lays his serviette over his plate of food, and readies his rain 
jacket.
Before they depart, I giggle. "You know it's like, a week away? Right?" I pick up our plates and dump the rest of the food into the garbage can."Holy, that was terrible" I gulp from a glass of tap water and commence washing the dishes. 
Once the plates and cutlery are dried and put away, I grab my sketchbook and practice drawing once more. This time I pay close attention to what I'm drawing, not letting myself get distracted. The first try isn't quite what I had in mind. Neither are the next dozen. It takes me a while but when I finally succeed, I am proud of my accomplishment. Before me sits a sketch of Papa with his bright red hair and freckles identical to mine. I note the bottom with a 'you're welcome' and hop off towards Mr.Koppinger's house. Sensing that he's probably still at the marina, I fold up the drawing and stick it under the door. Not knowing what to do next, I head to the tree house. I look up at the ladder before I climb, and test the rope, thinking that it may not last the hurricane.
"It'll be fine, Birdie, seriously" I tell myself, and set begin to make my way towards the small house resting on the limbs of this small oak tree. 
When I reach the interior, I plop down on the bean bag chair and sigh. I lift the stack of weathered magazines and bring them towards me.
"What the?" I say when an old pocket watch appears in the spot where the pile had been. I grab it 
and stare at the cracked facade.
"This... it can't be
 Before Grandpa died, my family had visited him in the hospital. It was overcast outside and the sun refused to peek out from the clouds. I had always hated hospitals, and tried to avoid the disgusting sterile smell, mixed with the scent of vomit. I was sitting on the edge of Grandpa's hospital bed when he passed his timepiece to me.
"Will you take care of it?" He asked, and the younger me nodded my head.
"Of course, Grandpappy"
I roll the watch over in my hands, taking in its elegance. When I come to the crushed glassy surface covering the ticking hands, I remember the small fight Issac and I had, minutes after we had left the 
hospital. Izzy almost never picked fights with me when we were little.
"Why did Grandpa give Birdie a clock and not me?" Izzy whined, looking down hungrily at the pocketwatch I was wearing around my neck. "I think it belongs to me! Give it!" he tore the watch away from me.
"Izzy, please give it!" I started to cry, and attempted to take the present back. When I finally ripped it away from my brother, the chain I had fastened to the watch unlatched. The three of us watched as the watch plummeted to the ground, and shattered.
The last promise I had made to my Grandpappy was broken.
I squeeze the pocket watch tight in my 
palm.
"Sorry, Grandpappy..." I whisper, holding the watch to my cheek, warm 
from my hand. I'm trembling as I put it back on the floor where I had found it. 
I pile the magazines back on top and start to climb down the rope ladder. I 
pause at the top, then deciding it would be safe, continued to descend to the 
ground.
When I get home, Papa is passed out on the couch. He twitches the 
tiniest bit when I kiss his cheek before going to be bedroom and flopping down 
on the creaky mattress.
I pull out my sketchbook for one last time today, 
flipping to a blank page and starting to sketch. An elderly man lying in a bed, 
handing a pocket watch to a little girl with outstretched hands takes form. I 
stare at the picture for a long time. I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek and I 
crumple it into a ball. I throw it and it bounces off of the rim of my 
wastebasket and lands on the floor.
I take a deep breath and calmly crawl 
over and grab it. I lean against the wall and unroll it, doing my best to smooth 
it out. It's still crinkly and torn, but I can't take my eyes off of the man's 
face. I get some tape and stick it to my bedroom wall. I close my eyes and take 
a deep breath, trying to relive our last moment together again and again.
I manage to fall asleep, but my dreams are full of grief and pain. A stranger pats 
my shoulder, bends down to look me in the eye.
"Your grandfather was a good 
man." I can only nod and sniffle, lowering my head to face the floor.
"I know." I choke out. "I know him better than anyone, you don't have to tell me 
that."
The lady nods awkwardly and moved on to hug my father.
I can only stare at my shiny black shoes that I only wore on special occasions. I thought 
special occasions were supposed to be happy, like weddings or birthdays.
I throw my shoes out in the dumpster behind the church and walk around in my 
socks. I don't care how much they cost, I just couldn't wear them anymore.
I wake up feeling cold and sweaty. I get up and tiptoe down the hall, trying to 
avoid the creaky spots in the flooring. I make it to the kitchen silently and 
pour myself a glass of water. I sit at the table and sip it slowly.
I can still hear Grandpappy's whisper in my ear.
"I love you."
"I love you too, 
Grandpappy." I hug him and give him a quick peck on the cheek.
My glass slips 
from my fingers and shatters, but I don't move. I rest my head in my hands and 
cry until my eyes are dry. I slowly push myself up from the ground, but stop 
when I start to feel an intense pain in my palms. 
"OW!" I silently cry, looking down at my bloody hands, skin pierced with shards of glass. I scramble 
up to my feet, panicking at the sight of bright red droplets splashing on the 
ground. I take caution not to wake Papa. Reaching inside the cabinets, I find 
everything but antibiotic ointment and bandages. I suddenly remember the slash 
Pa got on the leg weeks back, and realize that he'd probably still have the 
dressings in his nightstand drawer. I sweep away the glass and soak up the 
blood-infused water before I tiptoe over to my father's room. He lays in bed 
silently, occasionally adjusting his sleeping position. I make sure not to step 
on the creaky floorboards as I sneak into Papa's bedroom and creep over to the 
bedside table. I grab the handle and pull open the first drawer to find nothing 
but letters and stationery. I decide not to poke into Pa's business, so I 
gingerly close the drawer. The next one containss what I've been looking for, 
and I grab it swiftly before running out. I envelop my hands in ointment and 
bandages. I am practically sleep-walking by he time I reach my bed. I drift off 
immediately.
"BIRDIE!" I wake and sit up groggily, rubbing the sleep from 
eyes.
"Yes, Papa?" I call, dragging myself out of bed and down the 
hall. Pa is standing in the kitchen, eyes full of concern.
"Birdie, did something happen last night?" he asks after 
pulling me in for a hug. 
"I just accidentally dropped a glass and cut myself." I 
shudder, remembering last evening's events. I adjust the bandages and avoid eye 
contact with my father.
"Are you okay?" he eyes the dried blood on my hands nervously. 
I quickly hide them behind my back.
"Well, I guess I'll have to go clean up the bloody handprints 
all over my room" He smiles, releases me from the tight hug and goes to wet a 
cloth.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it" I grab the dripping rag 
from his hands and rush over to the room that I had soiled late at 
night.
"Oh no, you don't!" Papa rushes over to me with a soaked towel 
and wrings it out, right over my head. I squeal from the shock of cold water so 
early in the morning.
"It's on." I smash the wet rag in my hand into his face. To 
avoid getting attacked another time, I turn and sprint out of the house at full 
speed. While looking for a place to hide, I notice the hose strewn across the 
mossy ground. I pick it up and lie underneath the deck in wait for my prey. Sure 
enough, Papa trudges right past me, seconds later. I slightly turn the nozzle on 
the hose and a small trickle falls out. I laugh slightly before turning it all 
the way. Pa gets the chilling stream right between the eyes, and I can no longer 
contain my hysteric laughter.
My father can't help but join in and falls to the ground, 
laughter wracking his body. I crawl out from my hiding spot and lie down beside 
him. I squeeze my drenched hair into the grassy soil and let my head down onto 
Papa's outstretched arm.
"Are we going to clean my room now?"
Later during the day, I reach Mr.Koppinger's doorstep. I run a 
hand through my short, wavy hair and ring the doorbell. When Leon answers, a 
large smile lights up on his face.
"Come in, Birdie! I have some news" I sit down on my favourite 
sofa and cover myself in a warm, fleecy blanket. Mr.Koppinger comes in behind me 
and grins.
"You know my grandson, Ty?" I nod politely, even though 
technically I don't know him at all. "His mother has just called, informing me 
that Tyler will be joining me earlier than expected!"
Leon is bouncing in excitement. Seeing a relatively old man 
this excited makes me feel elated myself and soon the two of us are on our feet. 
I'm looking forward to potentially having my first teenaged 
friend in a long time.
"Would you like to go swimming? It really is a fabulous evening 
for it" Leon asks. "How about I'll meet you and your dad there in fifteen 
minutes"
I race home, and inform Papa about Mr.Koppinger's proposition 
and he agrees that it is a great idea. We change rapidly and head to the dock 
with towels slung over our arms. 
"Ow, my back hurts." Pa complains on the walk there. Before I 
can say anything, he holds up a hand. "Don't worry about me though, little Bird. 
You worry too much."
I dive expertly into the water, unaware that neither Leon nor 
Papa intended to enter the ocean.
"Hey, aren't you two coming in? I yell from where I tread 
water, My wet hair sticking to my neck and barely reaching my 
shoulders.
"It may not be the best idea for your father" My friend winks, 
sitting down on the bench I so frequently occupy. 
"And it looks cold." Papa added, lowering himself onto the 
bench beside Leon. I chortle, and strap googles over my eyes. I completely 
submerge myself,  taking in the beauty of sea life. To my right, I spot a 
colourful fish, the fluorescent hues of its scales flashing in the moonlight. It 
darts behind a rock before I can further admire its dazzling 
pigmentation.
When I come up to breathe, I lay on my back, letting waves lap 
over my suspended body. It feels so serene, that I can't help myself but 
smile.

Do you like it? :)


~Fedora and What

A/N WE'RE REDOING IT... PLEASE GIVE A LITTLE BIT <3

I am sitting on my bench at the marina when I meet Mr.Koppinger. The old man walks up to me, wielding a permit.
"Hello, miss VanTaraden." I look at the man standing before me. He has salt-and-pepper hair, and is wearing a fishing hat and suspenders.
"How may I help you, sir?" I ask.
"Well, I got this permit from your dad a while back and I'm just wondering if I can park my boat around here." he says kindly."Is that alright, Kestrel?"
"How do you know my name?" I ask, aghast.
"Your grandfather and I knew each other way, way back." he replies.
I used to spend every Sunday with Grandpappy. We were very close and he understood me very well.
"I-" I start, but I choke. Tears start to stream from my 
eyes, and he sits down beside me and pats my back.
"I know you two were close, Kestrel. I miss him too."
"it's Birdie. Not Kestrel" I stare intently at the man. "I don't use that name"
"Okay. My name is Leon Koppinger, But I'd prefer if you called me Leon. Nice to meet you" the man smiles, stretching his hand out. I take it grudgingly and we shake.
"So, where can I bring in my yacht?" my jaw drops at his words. 
Mr.Koppinger hauls the monstrous boat to the shore where he can launch it. I watch practically all of the men in town lower the yacht into the bay. Leon drives it to the final station at the dock and ties his boat up with a length of strong rope.
Mr.Koppinger comes down to the marina every day at noon to eat his lunch on the deck of his giant yacht. It fills up almost half of the long dock, and all of the townspeople who pass by gawk at the luxury boat. Leon and I make some small talk, but I mostly leave him alone.
A week after our first encounter, the man yells down to me after finishing eating a sandwich.
"Hey, Birdie! My grandson who is about your age will be visiting throughout the summer. I hope you keep him company!" he calls, licking mayonnaise from his fingers. I look up, shielding my face from the sun.
“I’d love to, but I’m not too good at befriending people” I confide.
“I’m sure you can do it.” Leon smiles happily.
I return home earlier than usual that night, because I'd been nursing a giant burn across my shoulders and back for the past 
few days.  Lesson learned: do not fall asleep on the job. Ever. I touch my tender skin and flinch under the pain. Slowly, I rub aloe vera gel over the fried parts. I cringe, but it isn't as bad as some burns I've had. I sit on my creaky bed, wondering what Leon's grandson would be like.  I silently hope that he's polite, since rudeness is my pet peeve. I also wish that he's hot. I 
probably wouldn't be able to talk to him, though, so I mentally scratch the idea. An hour later, Papa returns.
"Papa!" I run out of my room and into the kitchen to hug him.
"Hey there, little bird" he says. "Your back keeps getting worse, sweetheart. You'd better go put on another layer of aloe" I 
leave, slap some more gel on my back and gingerly rub it in. Running into the kitchen once again, I smile at my papa.
"Dinner?"
"I picked up some stuff from Redman's" He says, lifting a plastic bag from our trusty town supermarket. Laying our purchases down on the wooden table, I smile because all I see is our usual frozen food; neither my dad nor I can cook even the simplest things. I place a pizza in the oven and wait until the whole room smells of melted cheese and tomato sauce. I pull out the crispy pie and chop it into eight sections (my only skill in the kitchen is cutting things up. Figures.) once I'm done, Papa and I indulge. I spit out my mangled and chewed piece of pizza and Pa does the same.
"What the HECK is in here?" I gargle, rinsing the disgusting taste from my mouth into the sink and holding up the soggy cardboard box the pizza came in. "Vegan pizza? Really, papa?" I snort, looking at my father sternly.
"We keep eating the bacon ones! I've heard that a balanced diet is healthy!" he says, laughing at the gross look on my face.
"Yeah, like tofurkey is good for you” I grin at pa snarkily and dump the whole rest of the pie in the garbage.
''Ice cream?" he asks after looking through the whole fridge, and hauls a bucket from inside the freezer.
''who wouldn't turn that down?'' I giggle, grabbing two shiny spoons. Papa and I end up finishing the whole bucket, and are left with bloated stomachs and a taste of bile in our mouths.
''I don't think I'll ever be able to eat ice cream ever again!'' I moan.  He smiles at me and we lean back 
down into our chairs. Suddenly, the phone rings. I waddle over to pick it up.
''Hello, Kestrel VanTaraden here'' I say, cringing at my use of the hated name.
''Hi, Birdie!'' I smile at my brother's voice, remembering the stories of how the nickname first came to be. When I was born, Issac didn't understand why my name was Kestrel. After Mom and Papa explained to him that it was the name of a bird, he got it in his head that I was actually a feathered creature instead of being a baby girl.
''I have some good news! I've been sent an invitation to a university in New York!''
''When are you leaving? Are you still going to visit next week? What's the name of the university?'' I bombard him with questions.
''Slow down, Tweety bird! Sadly, I won't be given as many vacations as before, and I just called to inform you that I'm leaving tomorrow'' My eyes blur and I stuff my face into my free hand.
''But, Izzy, you can't go that far away! What if there's an accident like before and you need to help?'' I am full-on crying now. My father takes the phone calmly and I run towards my bedroom, bawling my eyes out. I wanted to prevent our family from breaking apart again; because, after all, that was the only thing that mattered to me.
I knock on the door for a third time before giving up and turning to leave.
“Birdie?” Mr.Koppinger waves to me from the garden running alongside his quaint little house.
“Hey, Mr.Koppinger. I just came for a visit, but if you’re busy I should probably leave…” I had been feeling especially lonely for the past few days and had needed something, anything, to get my mind of off of Izzy’s abandonment.
“Nonsense!” Leon cries, brushing his dirty hands on his shorts. “Come on in!”
I follow him up the steps and through the porch. The cabin is smaller than what I imagined for someone as 
wealthy as Mr.Koppinger to have, but still very nice. Everywhere you look there’s some sort of knickknack, maybe a model boat or an ancient-looking picture.
“Wow.” I breathe, admiring the mismatched living room. I point to a painting of a young boy standing beside a stunning ocean, a whale barely visible through the mist. “That’s cool.”
Leon grins. “Thank you! I painted that myself, you know.”
“Really? That’s amazing!” I gush, stroking a soft fur thrown across the green couch.
Mr.Koppinger leads me to the kitchen. He opens the cupboards and searches through them, finally finding a packet of crackers and tossing them on the table.
“Sorry, I don’t have much food. I haven’t been able to go shopping lately.” he apologizes.I nibble on a stale cracker as Leon dashes outside and returns with a fresh cucumber. He cuts it into thin slices and puts it on the table beside the crackers.
“Your house is really neat.” I stare up at the numerous wind chimes dangling from the ceiling.
“Thanks. I’ve always been told I had a very unique decorating style.” He winks.
We sit in silence for a few moments, not a sound other than the grandfather clock in the hall ticking and the cucumbers being crushed between our teeth.
Leon leans forward and smiles at me. “So, Birdie, tell me about yourself.”
I snort. “Tell you what? I’m not a very interesting person.”
“Okay…” Mr.Koppinger cradles his head in his hand thoughtfully. 
“Who’s your best friend?”
I shrug. “I don’t really have a best friend..." I think for a second. “I've never even had any friends before. You’re my closest friend.”
“Me?!” he chuckles. “Well, I am honoured. You’re my friend too, Birdie. To be honest, I too, don’t have many friends around here. I just don’t understand why people don’t like me that much.”
“I don’t know either.” I mumble, staring down at the wooden table. His words bring back a memory that I had tried hard to forget.
The children laughed cruelly as I screamed and thrashed.
“Please let me out!” I shrieked, tears streaming down my face. The net was tangled tightly around my legs and my feet 
were turning numb and blue. “Please!” I would cry as the boy lowered the net closer to the water.
“Why should we let you out?” a tall girl named Claire asked, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at me.
“Because I’m a person!” I yelled, panicking as the water drew nearer.
“They wouldn’t actually do it, would they? They know I won’t be able to swim when I’m trapped in this net. They won’t do it.” I reassured myself silently. The net dropped lower into the water, soaking my clothes.
“You’re not a person. You’re too weird to be a person.” A boy hollered, bringing a chorus of laughter.
“Why don’t you like me?” I sobbed, dipping lower into the salty ocean. The black water grew higher and higher, the children’s vile expressions glowing in the moonlight. The water bubbled up to my neck, and soon I was completely submerged.
I struggled to kick, but the fishing net just wound itself tighter around my body. Each second was an eternity as my lungs exploded and I swallowed in a mouthful of disgusting seawater. Black spots dotted my vision. My muscles were weak and my head spun.
Then, the water was below me again. I sputtered and coughed, gasping in a huge lungful of the cool air.
“Birdie.” A voice called. “Birdie, are you okay?”
Papa and Izzy stood on the bobbing boat, expressions of horror on their faces. Izzy dropped the net to the boat and my father untangled me. Once free, he hugged me close and carried me back home.
“Oh, Papa.” I whispered, hanging onto his neck. “I just don’t understand why they don’t like me…”
 “Birdie? Birdie, are you okay? Kestrel?” Leon calls.
I blink, staring down at my white knuckles that are grasping the edge of the table.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I assure him, shaking my hands to get the blood flowing.
“Okay, good.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “Anyways, what else can you tell me about 
yourself? What do you like to do for fun?”
“Um, I work at the marina?” I reply, studying the sunlight pouring from the dusty window onto the kitchen floor.
“Yeah, but in your free time? What do you like?" Mr.Koppinger presses on.
“I like… I like to…” I think hard. “I like to draw sometimes.”
“That’s nice. What do you like to draw?”
“The ocean and like, boats and fish and stuff.”
“Wow.” Leon beams. “I’d love to see some of your drawings sometime.”
“Oh, no.” I wave my hand in the air like I’m brushing away the idea. “They’re not very good.”
He leans forwards and shakes his head.
“Don’t ever put yourself down, Birdie.” He taps on the table. “One thing that I’ve learned in life is that you’re almost always better than you think you are.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” I sigh, thinking about the sketches scattered across my bedroom.
Mr.Koppinger winks again. “You’d be surprised.”
That night I flip through my drawings, trying to see if they are any good or not. They're just as terrible as before.
“Crazy old man.” I mutter to myself before turning off the light and flopping down on the bed.
He might be a little goofy, but I definitely like him. I pull out the dusty sketch pad from between my sagging box spring and mattress.
“But, maybe I can get better if I try” I pick up a stick of charcoal and begin to form a vast lake with waves the height of a Leon’s yacht. I imagine giant cliffs in the distance and rumbling clouds filling the sky. I shake my head and crumple the page into the smallest ball I can manage. Suddenly, Papa walks in and sits next to me, beckoning my body towards his.
“What’s wrong, Birdie?” My father delicately rubs the salty tears from my cheeks.
“When I was at Mr.Koppinger’s house, I remembered the time that you saved me from drowning. I’m so pathetic” 
My shoulders are racked with sobs. “I deserved to die that day. I am not good enough for all of the kind people in my life”
“What?” Papa hugs me tight. “Don’t you ever think like that, young lady” He kisses my cheek before standing 
up and leaving me alone to cry. A few minutes later, I grab the door handle and get myself together. Quietly, I tiptoe towards the kitchen and peer around the corner, noticing that Pa has left for the marina. I snag half a bagel and leave my home to search for my secret treehouse from when I was younger. I climb up the fraying rope and haul myself onto the small platform where I had once spent almost all of my time. There is a limp bean chair in one corner and a stack of old magazines in the other. I flop down into the sagging chair and randomly pick a 
book. I had stolen the magazines from my mom when she was still living with us, and the memory is still as vivid as the present.
She had actually found me trying to carry the whole pile out of the room. Wrenside had recently been rocked by a small hurricane and the floor planks were a bit uneven.  I had not been able to see where I was stepping because of the magazines, and tripped, dropping them all over the hallway. I scrambled to gather the books, but my mom had heard the crash and came to investigate. She knelt down beside me and started to help me pile her magazines back up.  I had looked up towards her, and heard her words.
“Kestrel, you need to remember that I love you. Whatever happens, I will still be with you in here” my mother jabs the space 
where I would find my heart and pushes the stack towards me.
The day after was when she deserted my family.
I flip the first page open and see the butchered faces of cosmetic models.
“Right” I laugh to myself, remembering how upset I was that next morning. I had run outside to my newly-built fort in the pouring rain, grabbed a scrap piece of wood and stabbed the faces of all of the women in the magazines.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” I screamed the most banned word I could think of.  “I HATE HER!” I mumbled, throwing my face into the bean-bag chair I was given for my 6th birthday.
Coming to a conclusion, I stand up and lower myself out of the treehouse, being careful on the ladder. I run towards Mr.Koppinger’s for the second time in the day, and rap on the door. It doesn’t take long before he answers, and I am ushered to the green chesterfield I had noticed earlier.
“Your father just visited. Are you alright, Birdie? He said that you’d been gone for hours” I look out the grimy window and realize that the sky has already begun to darken.
“Wasn’t he working at the marina?” I gasp.
“Actually, he was just going out for groceries.” Leon explains. “Your dad was really worried about you. Maybe you should give him a call, the phone’s in the corner.”
I pick up the receiver and dial Papa’s cell phone, because our home phone hasn’t worked for years.
“Hello?” he answers, anxiety in his voice.
“Papa? Papa, it’s Birdie.” I say.The line is silent for a moment, then my father whispers, relief in his tone, “Oh, thank god.”
“I’m sorry, Pa, please don’t be mad…” I beg into the phone. “I just needed a little break. I’m alright.”
“You had me so worried, Kestrel.”My heart sinks when I hear my real name. He only ever uses it when he’s upset.
“I’m coming home now.” I say, my throat clenching and the tears threaten to overflow. His disappointment crushes me and I feel guilty for making him worry the entire walk back home. I trudge up the back steps, dreading my punishment for running off. Opening up the front door, I brace for the scolding, but when my father looks up from the couch, I don’t see anger in his features. He gets up and comes towards me, wrapping me in a tight hug. I am shocked when I see his eyes watering.
“Oh, Papa…” I whisper into his strong shoulder.
“How could you scare me like that, Birdie?” he says gently, hurt in his voice. “You talk about deserving to die, then run off for hours. I can’t take that. It’s too much for your old Papa.”
“I’m sorry, Papa.” I’m crying too now, my hands digging into his back.I don’t know how long we stand there, hugging and sobbing, but once we pull away, Pa leads me to my room and tucks me in under the covers like he used to when I was a little girl. He kisses my cheek and then turns out the light. He stands in the doorway and just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear him murmur something in a loving sigh.
“What would I ever do without my little Bird?”

A/N ugh.. it's so bad. KAY BYE!