By the time I make it to the old factory, though, my anger is already dwindling. But since I'm already there, I guess I might as well make the best out of it, so I check the dusty ground for new footprints, finding none.

I make my way to the room where I met Scarborough, noticing I never got her first name. The chairs are in the same position I left them that day, meaning she hasn't been here since that day, which I guess makes sense. Why would she spend her time in this place to begin with?

I dust off one of the chairs and sit down, finally on my own and ready to spill everything that's been hurting me and I kept pushing inside since I moved out of Celadon Bay.

And to think Martin is still trying to get things his way, as usual. I shouldn't be surprised, but he's really proving me how loyal a friend he always was, how much I mean to him, and how much I let him down not trying at all to stay with him.

Not just him. As usual, the thought of Veronica brings tears to my eyes, except that, since I'm alone, I'm free to let them out. My sweet, beautiful Vee, once again, no longer mine. I pull my phone out, already swiping through my pictures until I find the picture from her fifteenth birthday, the one taken right after the waltz.

Her white, strapless gown, sporting a tight bodice that enhanced the modest curves of her body, the long dress falling all the way down, covering her tiny feet. Her amazing hairdo, perfectly arranged for her special day, and enhanced with a silver tiara. The soft touch of her silk gloves as we hold hands. Such perfection, and yet, none of that compared to her amazing smile, the one with slightly big front teeth I can't unlearn how to love. Or her eyes, with that icy grey that almost looked white, yet so warm and loving when they fixed on my blue eyes.

"Now, that's a lovely-looking girl."

I jump out of my freaking chair, again assuming combat position, just to find out that Scarborough herself was standing right behind me, snooping on my private moment.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

"I was about to ask you that same thing." I'm not sure what to say or how to react, so she keeps talking instead. "You're sitting there, weeping over some photo. That's kind of creepy, you know?"

"You're the creepy one, sneaking on people like that!"

"Well, you might have a point and I'm sorry I intruded in your private moment, but turns out you are also an intruder in private property, so you're not entitled to complain."

"Because you own the place, right?"

She ignores my question, going straight to her own interests, pointing at my cellphone. "So who's the girl?"

"She's none of your business," I reply coldly, shoving the phone in my pocket and out of her sight.

"Huh." She fixes me with a skeptical look with her single eye. "For someone who wanted to become my gallant knight in shiny armor, you're quite the unfriendly twat."

"You made it pretty clear that you didn't want me to be your friend, didn't you?"

"I did, but right now I think I can make an exception, because you obviously need to get something out of your heart."

This catches me off-guard. How come she now decided to be friendly? Did she forget that afternoon when she threatened me with a fucking knife? But on the other side, I might not have another chance to get into her white list. I dry my tears, giving myself some time to recollect and find back my own cool.

"We can do a story swap."

"Uh, okay. You know what? This might not be such a good idea after all. I'll just take my leave so you can weep over your younger sister on your own."

"You're quite adamant about that story of yours."

"You're one to talk!"

"Well, at least I offered you a sensible deal." I drag my chair next to the window before sitting back down. "Meanwhile, you just want to fish my story for free."

"True." I half expect her to start with her story, except: "But I'm okay with that, so you should as well."

I don't even know how to deal with that crappy childish logic. I turn to the window, looking at the green overflowing and taking over the whole view. I pull out my phone once again, that picture welcoming me as soon as I turn on the screen. She was looking at the camera for that picture so she looks like she's staring at me through the screen. Through time.

Scarborough takes the remaining chair and sits next to me. She doesn't try to look at my picture again. She just sits there where I can see her, and waits for me to be done with Veronica. It takes a while for the screen to go off again, and that's when I speak again, this time almost a hush.

"I'm sorry, Scarborough."

"I'm Abigail." She mimics my hushed voice. "And I'm sorry, too."

"I've been a jerk lately, to pretty much everyone."

"I'm a jerk all the time so I guess I can relate."

"But you've gone through God knows what, so at least you have a good excuse." I click the screen on again, allowing Vee to tell me what I can't soldier enough to tell myself. Vee would be so ashamed of me. This spirals me further down the sad hole. "I've just been shitty to everyone out of petty anger."

"I can't really judge your motivations without knowing your story, but I don't think you'd hide them so well if they were just petty stuff."

"I don't really think they're petty," I admit. "But I'm fairly certain that I'm the only one who'd think that way. That's probably why I don't want to talk about it: I wouldn't be able to handle someone else telling me I'm being a brat."

"Although that's a bratty attitude itself." She gives me a smirk.

"You sound like my best friend." And she does sound like Martin with those snarky remarks. By the time she asks who my best friend is, I have a picture ready to show her.

"Wait, that's your best friend?" I nod at her, which makes her whistle. "And I was thinking you were kind of hot."

"Yeah, he wasn't shy about it either."

"He looks like trouble, though."

"Wait a second, you think I'm hot?" I gotta admit it took me a while for it to sink. She gives me a frown.

"Why would I think such a thing?"

"You just said so!"

"I sure did."

"You did!"

"Ok, prove it."

I fix her with a bored expression. "It's really hard to get a conversation going with you."

"Whatever." She straightens in her own chair. "So what about this friend? Did he steal your chick or something?"

I laugh out loud. "Martin would never try to romance her."

"Why not? She's cute and all."

"They just don't click in that way." I can't fail to notice how supremely good I feel talking about my Celadon gang, which is why I don't hesitate to continue. "First of all, I met Vee because of him. She's been my one and only girlfriend so far, and Martin was pretty happy about us, mostly because Martin himself is unable to last with any girl."

"Vee?"

"Veronica."

"Ah." But I didn't give her enough to piece of the puzzle yet. "So are these people from wherever you come from?"

"Mhm. Celadon Bay."

"So what on earth brings a family from the shores to this die-hard hole?"

"Mama Crow." She raises a brow, not getting the joke. "My grandmother is sick. So instead of letting her rot in a nursery home as most sensitive people would, Mom decided to bring her whole family here to take care of her in her own house."

"You do sound like a petty child." Somehow, she doesn't sound like judging. She's more like trying to add up numbers and hieroglyphs.

"Yeah, I guess I didn't tell the story in the right order." And so I tell her about my days in Celadon Bay, on how I moved there and became friends with my cousin Martin, how I met Vee, and the life I generally had back there. "Then one day we got a call from someone here, saying that Grandma Enedith got lost on her way to the grocery store or some shit. So Mom came first to take her to a doctor, who concluded that she wasn't able to live on her own anymore. So out of the blue I had to pack my things and kiss my life goodbye."

"So you had to leave, just like that?"

"I had no say in the issue."

"But what about your girlfriend?"

"I... never found a way to tell her I had to go." I look away from her, feeling ashamed of myself all over again.

"Well, now that's shitty."

I don't know if she means the moving, leaving everything behind, not having a say in the matter, or leaving Vee without a word, so I assume it's the last bit. "I know. But I just couldn't bear it." My voice cracks and I start crying. "I knew she would be sad if I told her, and I just couldn't face that. I couldn't handle the thought of hurting her, and I just... acted as if everything was fine."

"Ah, the mighty claws of shame," she says, most likely trying to snap me out of my mood, but it doesn't work. "Come to think of it, you're more or less an Outcast."

This last bit actually perks my interest. "How come?"

"Think about it: Pushed out of your social life to live a horrible, friendless life in Maple Heights by a higher, unquestionable force."

Put that way, it does sound like I'm an Outcast. But that reminds me that she's also gone through that ordeal.

"You don't deserve that," I tell her. To my surprise, she laughs.

"And how do you know I don't?"

I look at her, managing a smile. "Nobody does."

"Well, that includes you, Newbie."

Before I notice, my hand motions to get her hair out of her face. I almost expect her to bite my hand off, but then she only smiles. I carefully tuck her hair behind her ear. I take it even one step further, tracing her scar with a finger.

"Are you ashamed of the scar?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why do you hide it?"

"Because it's far more normal to see a girl in the streets with hair over her face than this scar. Even if you seem to really like it."

"I do," I reply, tracing it again. "It looks badass, and also kind of hot."

"Okay, now that's all sorts of weird." She chuckles, still not shying away from my touch. I can hear Martin in my head telling me to make a move on this girl, although it doesn't feel appropriate. But then the roar of voices fill the empty space. There's laughter, and glass shattering. Whoever is here, they're a bunch of people. Abigail places a hand flat over my mouth and points her thumb to the window behind us. Then she whispers to me. "They won't be coming here, but just in case, we get out. Follow me, and don't make a noise."

I nod at her and follow her lead as she jumps out, silently as a cat, and both make a run for it through the dense vegetation in the factory's backyard. We stop a good fifty yards away, still hiding behind a huge tree, where Abigail double checks that nobody saw or follows us, letting out a relieved sigh when she deems we're officially safe.

"Well, that was clutch."

"Who were those people anyway?"

"Dunno. Most likely Fists."

I look in the direction of the factory, even though I can't see anyone. The Fist is there. What are the chances that I get there and wipe them off the map, like in some weird karate movie?

"Probably null."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud?"

She narrows her pale green eyes.

"You're such a weird fuck, Newbie."

"I'm John, by the way."

"John Foster. I know."

"You keep calling me Newbie."

"Isn't that okay, though? Friends always give each other nicknames."

"So that means we're officially friends, now?"

"Well, I guess I do know you better than most people around here, don't I?"

"You know things nobody else here knows."

"Then it's fine. We can call ourselves friends."

"Then I'll call you Scar."

"You really like this damned scar, don't you?"

"I told you. It's hot." And saying this, I inch closer to touch it again, except this time she does bite me.