The Jansen & Foster household enters a state of uneasiness and agitation as the days drift by. Mom arrived fine at Maple Heights two days ago, but other than that, we don't really have any news regarding the state of Grandma's health. This alone is driving me nuts. And I'm actually the most patient one.

Martin is on edge. He even went as far as to text Mom to ask what's going on, but we have to wait until after the doctor's appointment tomorrow to know more. If this proves frustrating for me, it's even more so for Martin; he's anything but calm and collected...

He taps his fingers on the kitchen table furiously while I help Alex prepare dinner. With Mom gone, Aunt Sugar has to spend more time at Aloha-Aloha, so we boys have offered to her to help out with basic housekeeping, laundry and dinner stuff.

"You know, little brother?" Alex says to Martin. "Time won't pass any faster, no matter how much you worry."

But Martin just clicks his tongue in response. He gets a message on his phone, and after reading it, he replies via voice message. "You know what, Annie? I'm so tired of your shit. In fact, I'm blocking you this instant. We're done."

Well... this is one for the record books. He only met this "Annie" this morning.

"People can sure fail to pick up on hints, can't they?" he mutters.

"What happened?" I ask him.

Martin runs his hands angrily through his hair. "She keeps pushing me to go going to the movies, and I keep telling her I don't want to go to any fucking movie!"

"Wow." I'm shocked at his rudeness, but he misinterprets my "wow."

"I know, right? I'm so not in the mood to sit back and watch a fucking movie, but this girl just doesn't get it." Martin picks up his phone and proceeds to scream at the blank screen. "DO YOU GET IT, ANNIE?! NO MOVIE TODAY!"

"That's the kind of distraction that burns a good three to four hours, Martin," Alex says.

"Just shut up if you don't have anything better to say, Alex." Martin hisses before storming out of the kitchen in the direction of our room.

"Man," Alex says, shaking his head. "Someone really needs to chill."

"One thing I learned about Martin is that it's best to leave him alone when he's like this," I offer, reaching for a potato to peel.

"Yeah, but even so," Alex says. "Our little buddy is pretty hard to ignore anyway."

"He sure is."

"Still, you know..." He pauses a bit to dice up a chicken breast. "I prefer his way of dealing with stuff over yours. Because it's pretty hard to know what's going on under the hood with you, Little John."

I shrug, dropping my now-peeled potato into a bowl in the sink before moving on to the next one. "It's just the way I am," I explain. "Freaking out isn't going to solve jack."

"So, you're not freaking out just like Martin? Did I get that right?"

I let out a heavy sigh, because it's no secret Alex knows I'm a total mess hiding behind my so-called stoic face. "I just don't want to move to Maple Heights," I tell him. "Whatever happens before that decision is made is not really my problem."

"Grandma is most likely fine," Alex says. He sets the knife down and leans against the kitchen counter. "She's showing signs of age, sure, but she's been fine so far, and I don't see that changing all of a sudden."

Somehow, hearing Alex voice my hopeful interior thoughts makes it sound almost possible. Almost, but not quite. I mean, it's still wishful thinking when you get right down to it, and wishful thinking is just wishful thinking, no matter who it comes from. "I hope you're right," I say.

Martin darts past us with his soccer ball firmly under one arm, and once outside, starts juggling. There's no keeping still for him.

"Venting is a good thing, John," Alex says, scraping the diced chicken off the cutting board and into a bowl. "And I won't judge you if you want to talk about things. It's bad to bottle stuff up inside, buddy."

"I know," I tell him. I stop peeling my potato for a minute to look out the window at Martin juggling his soccer ball. "It just doesn't come naturally for me."

"I hear ya."

But then, after dinner, it does come naturally. Almost instinctively, I change into my Gi bottoms in the bathroom and head to the beach. Once there, I practice every single kata I know, several times each just to get rid of all the pent up angst inside of me. It isn't enough, though, and after a while I just take off running. It's a calm night; a little on the cold side for late spring, but perfect for a work -out while listening to the crashing waves.

I breathe deeply as I run, tasting the salty air on my tongue. Even so, I can't help wondering if this is going to be the last time I'll get to enjoy this, kind of like a couple days ago when I was riding on the back of Alex's bike.

I guess my head is going to stay tangled like this until the sentence is finally declared: and I'm going to wonder endlessly if it's the last time I get to do every single thing I do here. It's excruciating, and confusing, and I really want out of it. So, I run faster, because maybe, just maybe, if I run fast enough, I can leave all the confusion behind.

Or, maybe... just maybe, Mom would let me stay here.

Seriously, Mom. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll study harder; I'll call you daily. I'll visit you on vacations and holidays. You name it. Anything at all, so please, please don't drag me to Maple Heights. It would just kill me to leave Celadon Bay now.

But Mom isn't listening. She isn't here. She's already there, at Maple Heights, waiting for me to no doubt join her. So there's no point in crying anymore, even though my tears don't seem to stop. I take a swipe at them, but my hands are caked in sand. I'm hopeless. And a mess.

"John?"

It's a voice I know. And sure enough, not ten yards away, I spy Candace. She's walking toward me, leaving behind a group of people seated on the sand.

She jogs over to me, super high-spirited as usual, and hugs me tight. I can't let her see how messed up I am, so I avoid meeting her eyes as I desperately attempt to blink away the remains of my tears.

"Wait a minute...," Candace says, stepping back. "Are you crying?"

Why on earth does this make me want to cry even harder? I feel my eyes prickling, and it's impossible to suppress the tears I've struggled so hard to keep in. "Come on, Candy. Are you drunk? Of course I'm not crying..."

But, who am I kidding? Worth a shot or not, I end up dissolving in her arms.

Startled, Candace asks, "Hey... what? Wait a second, what's wrong?"

She's confused, obviously, but I'm too busy grinding my teeth, fighting my convulsed breathing, and trying to regain composure, to say anything at all.

Candace pulls me into an even tighter hug, letting me hide in the crook of her neck, while she gently pats my head and waits for me to get a grip. It takes me a while, but I finally manage to get my shit together, and extract myself from her embrace. I wipe my hands on my Gi before rubbing angrily at my tears again.

"I'm... so sorry about that." It's all I can offer her, and the apology is accompanied by my stupid croaky voice.

"I don't know what's going on with you, John," Candace says, "but there's no need for you to apologize."

It's at this moment when I realize I must have run farther than I thought. I don't recognize anything around me. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Silver Shore?" She looks confused, even more so than I do. "How did you even get here anyway?"

"I just went for a night jog." I try a smile, but I can tell it's all distorted on my tear-stained face.

Candace quickly does the math. "You know we're like eight miles away from Celadon Bay, right?"

"Oh. Man, that was some jogging." I laugh awkwardly. "Uhm... I guess I'll head back now."

"Wait, John..." She tilts her head a little, clearly trying to figure me out. "Don't just run off. What on earth is going on with you?"

I kick at the sand with my foot. "Just some stuff at home," I tell her. I hope it will be enough to feed her curiosity. "Just don't worry about it."

"Does this have anything to do with your grandma?"

"Damn it..." I say through gritted teeth, looking away. Vee probably told her all the gory details.

"Is she okay?"

"Who's she?" I say, stalling for time.

"Your grandmother? Duh?"

"Oh. Oh! I uh..." I wipe my nose idly, trying to distract myself by figuring out my surroundings. "I sure hope so."

She closes her heart-snatching eyes and takes a deep breath. "Okay. I take the hint. You don't want to talk about it."

"I'd rather not," I reply, attempting a smile. "But you can help me with something, if you're worried about me."

"What would that be?"

"Could you please... not tell Vee you met me here on the beach?"

"Why not?" She gives me a big grin, and now it's my turn to get the hint.

"Nothing happened here, right?"

"Nothing at all!" She says, bobbing her head sideways. But then her face hardens, and her brows pinch together. "That doesn't mean I've stopped worrying about you, though."

"I guess I gave you reasons for that," I concede.

Man... can I go now please? I really feel like sprinting the hell back to Celadon Bay.

"Are you really... going to move away?" She asks in a perfect impersonation of Veronica: sixteen decibels, avoiding my eyes, busy watching her toes digging around in the sand.

"It hasn't been decided yet."

"Ronnie will be really sad if you do." This comes out somewhat accusatory.

"Hey," I say. "That's not fair."

"No. It isn't." She shape-shifts into Candace again. "For any of you."

I don't really know how to reply, so an awkward silence settles between us, magnified by the crashing waves.

"Candace, I—

"It's OK, John. I know it's not up to you to choose." A warm smile spreads across her face. "Just know I'm rooting for you, okay?"

And it would seem my prickly eyes aren't done crying. I wipe them right away, no longer concerned about Candace witnessing my raw display of emotion. "Come on, Candace. You're gonna make me cry again."

She laughs. "You already are!"

"And whose fault is that?"

She comes closer and wipes my stupid tears away with her thumbs. "There. Now stop weeping already."

"Done," I say, smiling through still- more tears. "I'll be fine."

Candace's crowd coos from their spot, jarring us both back into reality.

"I have to go," Candace says, waving at her friends higher up on the beach.

"Yeah, I better start running too."

"Head straight home, you hear me?"

I nod, taking a few little steps backwards.

"One more thing, John."

"Yeah?"

"If shit hits the fan..." She hesitates, her wavering voice betraying her before she swallows what is obviously a lump in her throat. "Come say goodbye, will you?"

And when her eyes well up with tears, I can't unsee Veronica's face. Is this how she looks when she cries, too? Is this what I'm going to do to my sweet, sweet Vee if I have to go away? It's too much to handle; too hard to watch. So this time, I really find my feet, and dart the fuck away from Candace, who is way too damn similar to my beautiful Veronica.

But it's no use. No matter how fast I run, Vee's potentially crying face haunts me all the way back.