And I don't feel so alone... (Room A2)

It finally hit him as he was walking through the halls of the Robertson building a few hours before lights out; he was going to be here for awhile.

Michael realized that he already hated St. Christina's without really giving it a try, but he had that attitude with the youth home and Marquette General Hospital and all of this hoping that everything would get better was starting to make him sick to his stomach. Optimism didn't take away homesickness or worry/confusion about his mother, and that fact was the reason why he hated his stay at both institutions. In the morning he'd feel better, he knew, he just needed to sleep and his naivety would come back after he thought about something else that made him happier. It always did; that never failed him yet. But Michael was starting to question that; how would he even get to sleep with all of this hanging over his head? And if his roommate wasn't in the room when he got there then he would refuse to enter A2 altogether. Which, no matter how afraid he was, wouldn't sit too well with the security officers.

Although, despite his negative feelings, he did make some friends today. He met Andry, who he'd encountered within the first few minutes of entering St. Christina's. He also met Talon in the recreation room while he was organizing books. They were both genuine, nice people; Michael admitted to himself that Talon kind of resembled the older brother he never had. He smiled at that thought, but even that was too weak to brighten his spirits at the moment, which was more than unusual for him.

He finally got to the A wing as his past, which he knew was far less troubled than other people he met in his life, unfolded in his mind.

Michael could almost hear his mother's voice in his ear, even if it was just a memory. 'Get in the car,' she snapped. She was distressed, and instead of asking what was going on, Michael had asked if she was okay. 'Does it look like I'm okay?!' She caught herself screaming, he noticed her voice was slurred and pointed to the car. They drove until they reached the police station. Michael watched his mother in her disheveled appearance as she stormed into the chief's office and slammed the door behind her- he replayed her frizzy brown hair, the dark bags under her eyes and her breath reeking of alcohol. He heard her screaming and crying but either the door was too thick or her voice was indecipherable- either way he didn't know what she was saying. He sat and waited silently, his whole body shaking. His mother's 'talk' with the policemen had only taken a little less than five minutes. She was escorted out of the office, her tears smudging her makeup. She pressed her son's head to her shoulder gently as she held him in her arms. Michael noticed that her usual perfume was hidden by the stench of alcohol. Without words, she was escorted into a police car and they drove away.

How, in witnessing that, could Michael have not thought he'd done something wrong? 'Your mother lost her job,' The policeman said when they took her from him. 'She thought she wasn't stable enough to take care of you.' Michael asked in a shaky voice where she was going. 'Your mom has to go to rehab, so that she'll get the help she needs. And you're going to have to go somewhere too. We have to see what's going on first before we place you somewhere.' The officer was explaining this as if he were talking to a kid half Michael's age. He knew his mom had a drinking problem, and he knew he was going to be sent to an institution. He was naive, but he certainly wasn't stupid. But what he didn't know is why she had to leave him.

"Why couldn't I help her?" Michael's words found their way to his lips in a meek whisper. "Why can't I be in her life in order for her to get better?"

He didn't get it, but dwelling on it put him in a worse mood than he was already in. Michael's life had changed on a complete 180 degree spin, and it had only taken a month. It only took a month for his mom to lose her job, give him up to the state, be placed in the Marquette County Youth Home, quit the baseball team, mentally unravel, be placed in MORE change by going to the hospital for a few days, fill out the application for St. Christina's, stay at the youth home again and finally, be sent here.

Michael's life hadn't changed much at all up until the month of May- all his life he lived with only his mom, he only met his dad twice since he left the house when Michael was barely a month old, his mom brought home mean fling-boyfriends from bars, he religiously organized the house while his mom drank, he went to church every Sunday and holiday mass, he looked forward to playing baseball later in the afternoons as he was beaten senselessly by bullies, he was hospitalized once when he was twelve for nervousness and that pretty much covered it. That was his life- his entire life. Up until last month. Everything changed after that.

Michael reached the room where he was assigned, and in all of his steps he prayed to God that his roommate was in there.

As if he couldn't have been more distressed today, the room was empty. The only things in the room were the absent boy's stuff on the first bed, and Michael's suitcase, carry-on and handbook that he threw on the second bed while running away. He ran away because empty rooms made him more than nervous; they made his stomach churn and his heart feel like it would explode. He hated being alone; he hadn't felt alone all day because of Talon and Andry... but now he'd never felt more alone in his life. Well, maybe that was an overstatement, but it felt valid at the time.

Michael realized he was just standing in front of the room, and not actually going inside of it. He gulped as he started to shake and his breathing became heaving and choppy. His fists were clenched tight as they gripped his shirt. His eyes bulged and they were shifting all about the room.

'Alone.'
'Alone.'
'Alone.'
'Alone.'
'Alone.'
'Alone.'
'No one's in the room.'
'The room is empty.'
'You're alone.'

He took a few steps backwards, but on his third step, he knocked into something... or someone. All of his words that he sputtered out in apology came into a conglomerate instead of a proper sentence.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry Did I hurt you I hope I didn't!"

He took a fleeting glance to whomever he knocked himself into; he hoped it wasn't a dishwasher like last time.

Life had a way of continuing, even if you weren't ready for it. Which was rather where Nate was at. Day after day was going by, and it was all this horribly boring routine. Which is not to say that life at Hadley had been any better, but it had seemed more exciting. Maybe it was because he was constantly meeting new people. Here, they were more isolated, and he had a feeling it was deliberate. It made it harder to feel the hope that he'd talked about with Roscoe. It was all pretty useless, he knew that, but couldn't the staff at least attempted to make this place a bit more cheerful? The only place that wasn't institutional standard was the outside, and you couldn't really give the staff credit for that.

So, he walked through the white halls with the ugly linoleum and wished for something more exciting. He hadn't seen Ellen in a couple of days, which was a bummer, and he wondered what was keeping her away. He hoped she wasn't in trouble. That would certainly suck. He was surprised a bit that he missed her as much as he did. They hadn't known each other long, and it was unusual for him to get so attached so quickly. With Rachael, it had taken several months before he really felt attached. Maybe it was because she let him give form to his visions, maybe it was because she was nice. He didn't know, and most of the time, didn't care. It was enough that she helped. But because Nate hadn't seen her in a few days, he could feel the thoughts beginning to creep in again.

A glimpse of Roscoe had led to a 45-minute fantasy break. Not the most helpful thing when you were supposed to be paying attention in class. Luckily, one of the other kids had lent him notes, so he wasn't in a lot of trouble. Plus, the teacher hadn't noticed, so that was really, really good. The other kid hadn't even wanted anything from him. So far, it'd been a damn good day for the brunette.

And now he was headed back to his room. He'd noted the bookbag on the other bed when he'd dropped his bag earlier. A new roommate. Nothing to exciting there. He just hoped the guy wasn't overly violent. He didn't need the added fuel for his own fire, not to mention how difficult it would be to live with someone like that. He didn't mind letting Roscoe hit him every now and again, Roscoe was a friend, and although the fantasies hadn't abated any, he was still hopeful that with time they would. Lost in his reflections, he didn't see the other boy until he ran into him.

He stepped back, blinking, and prepared to apologize, but the other one was already doing so. His eyebrow went up as the sentence spilled into the air between them. That was interesting. The other boy assuming it was his fault. He hoped this wasn't his roommate, he looked like a nervous nelly. He'd rather have to deal with Roscoe than a nervous kid.

"No, I wasn't paying attention either. I'm Nate, its nice to meet you." He held out a hand to the other kid, hoping that he was normal enough to shake hands. You just never knew. "Welcome to the danger ward." Nate rolled his eyes on the word danger. There really didn't seem to be anyone truly dangerous on this ward. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and Roscoe seemed to not want to give in to his problem unless he couldn't help it. Some of the others had scoffed at being on this ward as well. But what could they do?

"So, what are you in for?" He asked as he walked into the room, motioning the other boy in. He went to his bag and dropped it by the bed, giving it a little kick to hide it from view. He didn't want to think about class right now.

Michael could feel his cheeks boil with embarrassment as the other boy raised an eyebrow at him. At this point, he would have preferred to run into a dishwasher and be stupid for apologizing to it- at least a dishwasher didn't have feelings. He hoped he didn't hurt the other boy, but he didn't want to apologize again- he knew what happened the last time he'd over-apologized. They got really uncomfortable after saying 'It's really okay,' the seventh time.

"No, I wasn't playing attention either. I'm Nate, its nice to meet you."

Michael was relieved that he wasn't mad. The small boy always assumed that everyone he met hated him before they even talked to him, which he knew was silly. Everyone at St. Christina's was from different places- they wouldn't know a random, nervous kid from small-town Michigan.

"I-I'm Michael." Despite being sort of upset, his small smile wasn't forced. He was really happy that he was meeting someone. Talking to people, even just being in someone's presence, made him a lot calmer.

He shook Nate's hand and the gesture did wonders for calming him down too. He didn't know what it was about physical affection that made him feel better, but it never failed him. He was sure to let go before he freaked Nate out- he didn't want a repeat of the previous afternoon.

"Welcome to the danger ward."

"Danger ward?" Michael's tone wasn't frightened, but innocently blank. He questioned to himself whether he was dangerous. He knew he hurt people by showing up late to science class once and pronouncing 'Mr. Mukhopadhyay' wrong when addressing the teacher, and that wasn't even a fraction of the hurtful things he's done to people. He knew he was a terrible person, but he didn't think he was necessarily dangerous. Even when he was hit by the angry kids from the wrestling team (his usual tormentors), Michael never fought back. Even if he wanted to fight back, he wouldn't be able to do anything. He didn't know the first thing about fighting or even self defense, and not just on a physical level either. He got through being beat up frequently by thinking to himself that they must have had a reason to hate him; he must have done something wrong to them and forgot about it because why else would they hit him?

Maybe he was 'dangerous' in other ways; like verbally (although he couldn't remember an instance where he voiced his own stance in a debate much less insult someone) or mentally. He couldn't remember a time when he deliberately hurt people, but it wasn't about the intention- he knew it was the action that mattered. That rule only applied to himself, however- he would never blame another person for their actions.

He saw Nate roll his eyes when he said 'danger'- he couldn't tell if Nate was joking entirely or if he was just undermining the severity of the word.

"So, what are you in for?"

Michael waited for Nate to be completely inside of the room before taking a step. When he motioned for Michael to follow him, he did so after Nate put his bag down. He felt safe entering the room if he knew he wasn't going to be alone in it.

"I have a couple of disorders. I was in the hospital for a couple of days before I came here. In between, I was in a youth home." Michael said openly as he started to unpack his suitcase. "My old therapist, Dr. Ivanova, said that I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and this other one... um, Dependent Personality Disorder, I think. I know that GAD makes me anxious and OCD makes me not control my thoughts or my need to organize things. But I really don't understand the third one. Dr. Ivanova explained it to me many times, but I can't seem to get why it's a disorder. Oh well- maybe I'm dumb."

Michael was putting away his jeans as he said this, but then he sat up to look at Nate. "Why are you here?"

He remembered the two friends he met earlier mention another mental hospital before they got to St. Christina's. He was almost positive they were talking about the same place.

"Where were you before this?"

It had been days, and he hadn't seen his Girl anywhere. Had Niamh even been on the plane? Connor couldn't remember. He hadn't slept well the night before they'd left Hadley, and he'd been too excited and nervous about being in the sky to pay much attention anyway. He'd meant to look for her, like he had when they'd gotten on the buses, but when they were in the air, his lack of sleep had caught up with him, and he'd napped through most of the flight. So, he'd been looking for Niamh ever since. Where had she gone? Maybe he should ask somebody. He knew her name now, he could tell one of the people here that he wanted to see her.

But, this place was so different from Hadley. Would the people here be as nice? Connor hoped so. Even if this place was a lot different, maybe the people would still be nice. Like, here, he had to share his room. Before, they let him sleep in a big room by himself. He wondered if the boys he was going to share with would be nice or mean. Would they laugh because he didn't talk right? Would they make fun because he read books made for little kids? He held tight to the video game Henry had sent him for his birthday. He'd been taking it everywhere whenever he wasn't in class. Teachers didn't like it so much when he played his game and didn't listen to them. The games were fun, and he knew how to spell lots of words, and how to put numbers together much better now.

As he went back to his room, he sawthe two boys he had to share with talking. Connor didn't know them. They weren't Brady or Niamh or Henry, so Connor didn't talk to them, or even look at them. They were not important to Connor. Instead, he took his new video game under the bed. The floor was much better for laying down and sleeping on than the too-soft, too-squishy bed. If Connor slept in a soft bed, he'd get all soft too, and not be strong anymore. The two boys could keep talking, he would play his game under here.

"Fill in the letter that completes the word!" his game said. The screen showed a picture of a cat and underneath, it said 'C_T'. Under that, it had three letters 'P', 'E', and 'A'. Connor picked the A.

"Good Job!" his game said. "Fill in the letters that complete the word!" This time the picture was of a king, with an arrow pointing at his hat. '_RO_N', it said underneath. Only, Connor couldn't remember what a king's hat was called. The Letters underneath said 'T', 'C' and 'H'. Connor tried the 'H', because 'hat' started with an 'h'.

"Sorry! Try Again!" said the game. Connor didn't know what to do. Maybe he better ask for help.

"What is a king's hat called?" He asked, poking his head out from under the bed.

Micheal looked at him strangely when he had said this was the danger ward. Was the kid that oblivious? Did he really not know that supposedly only the most violent or potentially dangerous kids were on this ward? He obviously hadn't been here all that long if he didn't know about Ward A. It was in the freakin handbook. How could he not know? In the end, he wasn't sure it really mattered, Micheal would learn soon enough.

The next answer was a long one, and Nate couldn't help but smile. Oddly enough, there were lots of OCD kids running around, but he was the only one he knew with the 'without overt compulsions' clause. He was special...yay. The dry sarcasm of his own voice sounded in his head as Micheal continued to outline his issues. This kid was a laundry list of problems, wasn't he. Nate was glad that his was at least focused and partially controllable. Even his wanting to be isolated had faded some. That was more thanks to the fantasies not revolving around everyone he saw and liked though. Either the medicine they were feeding him was working or he was getting picker about who he was attracted to. Either way, it was a damn good thing, and you didn't argue with that.

Just as he was going to answer, yet another teen walked into the room. This one looked at them, then proceeded to crawl under his bed. Weirdo. Nate shook his head slightly and frowned, wondering what that kid's damage was. Not that it mattered really, the boy was attractive enough fuel, and the thoughts began creeping in. A slow and steady trickle, like a faucet that didn't shut off all the way.

Tie him down, have to, he looks pretty strong, doubtful he'd just take it like Ellen. Careful of the feet, mate....one hit to the jewels and you're down for the count.

Nate clenched his fists, and stared at the floor, jaw working for a moment as he attempted to regain control of his own mind. Focus on the question, he told himself. Focus on what Micheal asked, ignore the boy under the bed. "Actually, I have OCD myself, but its a long, boring and complicated explanation. So lets not go there. I'm here because I'm a danger to other people. Not everyone, but enough. And to answer your last question, Hadley. A lot of the students transferred in from there. I heard some of the staff came too."

Oh, the expressions on his face as the scalpel slipped across his chest, opening up a shallow cut that likely stung like hell. It bled, the red trickling down his side to pool beneath him and making such lovely patterns against his skin.

Conor chose that moment to pop his head out from his hiding place and ask about the king's hat. Nate frowned, then lifted an eyebrow and spoke slowly. "Ummm, you mean a crown?" He wondered how the other teen couldn't recall the name of a crown, but then again, this was Hadley redone. Perhaps they were taking in mostly illiterate kids now. Didn't really matter, it wasn't like he was ever getting out of ward A.

Another slice, another cut, more red sliding down, trickling over skin, soft whimpers filling the air to join with pleas for mercy.

He turned back to Micheal, attempting to forget about Conor. "Going back to an earlier point, Ward A is the danger ward. Where the most dangerous among us are kept. What did you do, Micheal, that was so dangerous to earn Ward A? " Nate couldn't see the violence in either of his roommates, so he was naturally curious as to what they done to earn a stint here. Sure, some folks got to move down to Ward B or C, lucky bastards, but Nathanial was pretty certain he wasn't ever moving. This was going to be life.

The thoughts occuring in real time bled through and made him slice deeper, exposing the muscle to the room. The pretty pinkness twitched as air filtered over it. His subject had already passed out from the dozens of smaller wounds that had been inflicted by the now bloody scalpel and the maniac look in the brown eyes of his tormentor.

Michael watched as another boy walked into the room. The third inhabitant of A2 looked older than him, but it was to be expected. Michael looked younger than he actually was anyway, so he wasn't a very good measuring tool. The boy looked at Michael and Nate, or caught a glimpse of them, as he crawled under the bed. An electronic voice could be heard from underneath, and was instructing him to spell things.

Michael turned to the direction of the third bed and decided to acknowledge him; something that Nate didn't seem to be doing for some reason.

"Hi!" He piped, waiting for a response beneath Bed 3, but instead only heard the electronic voice say 'Fill in the letters to complete the word!'

Michael smiled sheepishly to cover up his nervousness and embarrassment. 'He probably couldn't hear me,' he thought as he turned his attention back to Nate.

Nate had his fist and jaw clenched- he looked really angry. Michael gulped. He hoped Nate wasn't mad at him, though he couldn't think of a reason why he would be. Then, Nate looked at him again, his anger disappearing, or forced down.

"Actually, I have OCD myself, but its a long, boring and complicated explanation. So lets not go there. I'm here because I'm a danger to other people. Not everyone, but enough."

Michael hadn't met another patient who had OCD yet- he kind of felt relatable to that. He knew that Nate didn't want to elaborate on why he was here, so he decided not to force him. But... a danger to other people? Michael's eyes displayed his confusion. Nate didn't seem dangerous, but then again, no one seemed dangerous to him. He was just that trusting.

"And to answer your last question, Hadley. A lot of the students transferred in from there. I heard some of the staff came too."

"Oh! It's the same place!" He exclaimed. "My friends Talon and Andry told me vaguely about this place that was a mental hospital and a high school at the same time. I can't remember what it was called, though- was that Hadley?"

Michael put his jeans away in the bottom drawer, re-folding them even though they were already folded. He wanted to make sure that they would fit neatly into the closed space that they were kept in.

The guy under the bed poked his head out to ask what a king's hat was called. Michael had to think about that one himself for a few seconds until it registered. 'Oh! He's asking about a crown!' Michael opened his mouth to answer cheerfully, but Nate had already answered it.

Michael wanted to talk to the boy under the bed, to make him feel included. There was something in the back of his mind that told him that the boy wouldn't like that, but it was worth trying.

"What's your name?" Michael asked innocently to the third bed. "And why are you playing all by yourself?"

Michael turned his attention back to Nate again, when he spoke:

"Going back to an earlier point, Ward A is the danger ward. Where the most dangerous among us are kept. What did you do, Micheal, that was so dangerous to earn Ward A?"

'Most dangerous?' Michael's eyes widened. NOW he was afraid. He was surrounded by dangerous people? Nate and the boy under the bed didn't seem all that dangerous, but Michael wasn't the best at picking up signals of danger because of his trusting nature. He was among the most dangerous patients in the hospital! He didn't know why- maybe this was punishment for all of the things that he did in the past, like breaking the purple crayon a classmate was using in kindergarten or crashing into a girl in the hallway and making her late to her class.

"I-I don't know!" Michael stuttered, scared out of his mind. "The worst thing that I've ever done was steal a pack of gum on a dare... Oh! And I also peed on my neighbor's cat by accident. Poor Tiberius... he did nothing to deserve that..."

"Crown," Connor said seriously, feeling the word in his mouth and trying to decipher how the letters in it fit together. After a while, he filled the blanks in the word with a 'C' and a 'W', and the game said, "Good Job! Would you like to play again?" Connor selected 'no', saved his game like that nice person had shown him, and turned it off. The boys here wanted to talk to him, it seemed. Connor didn't really want to talk to them, but he remembered other places where he had to live with other boys. It was better to pretend to be interested. With this thought in mind, Connor pulled himself from under the bed, although he remained sitting on the floor. He was alert, in case he needed to fight or flee.

One of the boys asked for his name. "Connor. I play the game Henry gave me. I not break it like the other toys. I know more now. Can you play this game with more people? I thinked it was for just one people." He held the Leapster tight. They weren't going to take away his game, were they? Would they laugh at him as they tried to keep it away? The boy that asked for his name said that he stealed something. Would he steal the game? The other boy was not paying much attention to Connor, which he liked better. But, if he wanted to know about what the stealer boy did, would he want to know what Connor did?

"I broke toys. I did not know what they were for, and I did not want to be away from my forest. I throwed them at peoples. When some of the peoples gotted too close, I hurted them. I do not do that anymore, because Henry teached me about how to be good boy. But, sometimes I still want to. Break things, I mean. I want to go home. I never wanted to break things when I lived in my forest." Was that enough? Would they make fun of him now? He hadn't mentioned the coyotes because they would think he was lying. Everybody thought he lied about the coyotes, even Brady. If he had to share a room with other boys, why couldn't they be boys he already knew?

Nate wondered why Micheal was even interested in the other boy. Obviously he wasn't interested in them. If he was, he wouldn't have retreated beneath his bed. That's why Nate was ignoring him except for the fantasy that was playing in his head. The fantasy that he was really trying to ignore. Micheal's words pulled him from the latest round, and he flopped down on the bed, hearing the springs squeak with his weight. A loud sigh followed this and he swung his feet up, shoes and all, onto the bed.

"Yes, that was Hadley. Nothing exciting about it really." Nate wasn't sure he knew who Talon or Andry were, but it wasn't all that important at this point in time. Brown eyes stared at the at the popcorn ceiling overhead right before Micheal went off on why he wasn't dangerous. This kid had a seriously over inflated sense of what was good and bad. Everything was apparently a major wrong-doing. Nate was going to reply, but then the other kid started talking.

Sometime while he'd been staring at the vastly uninteresting ceiling, Connor had crawled out from beneath his bed. Why he'd gone under there in the first place, Nate couldn't fathom. After all, while this was a new facility for those of them that had been at Hadley, this place wasn't new, and there was not telling what might have happened on those ugly green tile floors. And they couldn't be comfortable. Nate shivered just thinking about it.

Connor spoke strangely. Almost like he was still learning language. That just solidified Nate's previous opinion that this place was now letting in illiterate folks. It took him a few minutes to put the speech together. Alright, so Connor had a problem with having his things taken away. Check, don't take his things away. That would be easy enough. Given the images that Connor was putting into his head, Nate would be staying as far away from him as possible. It was safer that way. Maybe he'd need to go find Roscoe.

"Micheal, you haven't done anything worse than pee on someone's car? How did you end up on this ward? Connor hurt people, I might, it makes sense that we are here." Nate was confused. Micheal didn't seem like he deserved to be on this ward, and dear god, maybe he would leave and he'd get a more interesting roommate. Right now he was stuck with dumb and dumber, and he was pretty certain he'd rather have Roscoe back and deal with him everyday rather than these two. He could forsee spending a lot of time outside, avoiding these two.

Michael was glad that the boy from under the bed decided to come out. He sat on the floor- it seemed he really didn't like beds. His posture on the floor might have suggested that he needed to be ready for something; he seemed really skeptical, at least of Nate and Michael.

As the boy started talking, Michael finally knew his name- Connor. From the way he spoke, it seemed like he only knew broken English. Maybe he was from another country and was just starting to learn English? Michael didn't think that was Connor's story, but it was all he could come up with at the time. He heard Connor speak about his spelling game, and Michael was in the process of conjuring up an idea. Maybe Connor's game could be played with multiple people.

Connor started to speak about why he was here, and Michael had to pick apart the sentences in his head to make sense of them. Connor had a lot of trouble speaking, but Michael thought it was pretty admirable that Connor was willing to share why he was at St. Christina's- on top of language being an issue, he didn't seem like a very trusting person. Michael now knew three more things about Connor- he was sometimes violent (Michael made a mental note never to anger him), had a friend who taught him things named Henry... but he said something about a forest. A forest? And he spoke of it possessively. Michael couldn't really put the pieces together on that one. He also deducted that Connor felt guilty about hurting people and breaking the toys. Michael felt sort of sorry for him; whatever his issues were, they prevented him saying or doing what he meant.

Michael then faced Nate, who spoke next, after he couldn't really convey anything to Connor other than the sympathy in his eyes.

"Micheal, you haven't done anything worse than pee on someone's cat? How did you end up on this ward? Connor hurt people, I might, it makes sense that we are here."

Michael felt heat rise quickly in his cheeks. His looked down to semi-hide the fact that his embarrassment made his face turn the color of a stop sign. He had no idea how to answer Nate's question, because he didn't know the answer either.

"Um..." He began sheepishly. "I'm not sure. They kind of just told me where to go when I came here."

Michael felt a strong desire to change the subject. Stupid bashfulness and making his face instantly red...

He turned to Connor. "You said your game can't be played with two people, but I think I have an idea. Hold on a sec,"

Michael stood up and dug in his backpack for the black journal that Teagan gave him. He found it, and he also found a pen. Michael paused to think for a moment, and then wrote something in his notebook. He then presented what he wrote to Connor, while offering him the pen.


"Try to guess the word," Michael smiled. "It's just like the game."

While Michael waited for Connor to respond, he turned to Nate.

"Do you want to play too, Nate?"