© Copyright 2012
All work is property of Leah Crichton, any duplication or reproduction of all or part of the work without explicit permission by the author is illegal.

Alexa slept in the following morning. This resulted in a loosely placed ballerina bun on the top of her head, a pair of denim shorts, a plain white t-shirt and some lip gloss. She bolted down the stairs and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, barely making it outside as Gabby was starting the engine to her Volkswagen Beetle.

“Lex,” Gabby said. “I wasn’t going to leave without you.”

“I know,” she said. “Just didn't want to be disrespectful of your time.”

Gabby shook her head.

“What?” Alexa queried.

“Would it kill you to be seventeen?”

Alexa scrutinized her. “Obviously it doesn't kill me. Seeing as how I am seventeen. What is that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“C'mon Lex,” Gabby said. “I should be having to drag you out of bed. You should be angry about having to come with me, not ready and willing and the very last thing you should be concerned about is my time. I worry about you sometimes, kiddo.”

“Don't worry!” Alexa said. “Honestly Auntie, I love this.”

Gabby shifted the car into gear. “You must be crazy.”

Alexa stifled a laugh. “Coming from a shrink, not gonna lie, I'm a wee bit offended.”

“Hey,” Gabby said. “Look at the bright side, you didn't even have to pay for the diagnosis.”

She nodded. “Silver lining.”

Paper Planes assisted living facility looked similar to a boarding school with barbed wire. To hear Rachel talk about the boarding schools she'd lived in, maybe Paper Planes was a step up. It was a colossal brick structure that in the darkness of night, could possess an eerie quality.

She'd heard rumors that it was haunted but didn't believe any of them. The patients here were treated like royalty, Aunt Gabby made sure of that. There were gardeners for the grounds, ensuring they were pristine with trimmed shrubs and wildflowers. Alexa hoped to work there one day.

Aunt Gabby pulled into her parking stall which was marked with a distinguished nameplate. Gabby Montgomery, DPM. It must have made her feel important.

She was genuinely glad to be back here, even if it was only to volunteer. She'd met a lot of incredible, although admittedly disturbed people last summer. She'd missed them.

It was like Gabby read her thoughts. “I told Jerry you were coming.”

As soon as she said his name, Alexa felt heat flush to her face and she started to laugh. Jerry suffered from a severe anxiety disorder and preferred life at Paper Planes more than he did at home. His parents obliged and footed the bill for his permanent stay. He was also certain that Alexa was his future bride to be and the very source of his destiny. She'd spent a good deal of time last summer, politely denying his advances. Jerry was harmless though and as sweet as they came.

“Oh you did, did you? What did Jerry make of that?”

Gabby reached for her purse. “He's spent the last week writing poetry and grooming himself.”

Alexa stepped out of the car. “Can't wait.”

“Don't say things...”

“You don't mean,” Alexa finished for her.

“Right,” Gabby said. “That's exactly right.”

“I mean it,” Alexa assured her. “Truly. Jerry is adorable. How's Lindy?”

She was testing the waters, wanting to know if Lindy was still there. She was an anorexic. Last summer she was completing her treatment, but Gabby had called Alexa and let her know that Lindy had been re-admitted about seven months later for a relapse. Alexa had lost sleep over Lindy's well-being.

“Lindy is doing better,” Gabby said. “She's befriended one of our new girls, Sadie and it seems to help a lot.”

Gabby held the door open and Alexa slipped by. “A new girl?"

“Yep,” Gabby replied. “Sadie. Fourteen years old. Paranoid schizophrenic.”

“Oh. Isn't that kind of young?”

“Well yeah,” Gabby agreed, “I guess it is. Schizophrenia is usually more common in adults but it isn't unheard of in children. Sadie has been diagnosed for the majority of her life.”

Alexa's heart squeezed tight in her chest. What Sadie must've gone through. “Is she okay?”

Gabby nodded. “She's good, but she's only been here for about six months. She doesn't leave her room much, usually we find Lindy in there with her.”

“Well I can't wait to meet her,” Alexa decided.

The inside of the building was more like a hospital than a home, rightfully so. Liam, one of the security guards gave them a warm smile as Gabby used her key card to buzz them in.

“Hello Ms. Alexa,” he said with enthusiasm. “Pleasure to have you back.”

“Glad to be here, Liam.”

It was true. She was glad to be back.

Sawyer stretched, yawned and rolled over before slamming his hand down to silence the alarm. Stupid thing was so loud. When it rang again five minutes later, he begrudgingly remembered he had to get up. Today was his first day at the crazy house.

He heard a shriek from the kitchen followed by a loud bang which had him bolting upright in record time. He jumped from the bed and ran down the hallway.

Devin was crouched awkwardly with her pink cast, looking at a pan on the floor that had been divested of its contents. Egg, peppers, and strings of cheese. An omelet. She had her hands on her eyes as if she was ashamed.

“Damn it!” she said.

“S’okay,” Sawyer said, kneeling down beside her. He started to pick up the food and throw it back into the pan so it could be discarded.

“It’s garbage,” she said miserably.

“Yup. I’m not going to eat it,” he said. “D’ya ever go home, sugar? What are you doing here at seven in the morning—again?”

“I used my key,” Devin said. Sawyer and Lane had given her a key the day they moved into the place. Devin could never say she was lacking in people who cared about her. The entire band had pretty much adopted her as their sister and it was the most natural thing in the world to have her around. “I wanted to make you and Lane breakfast. ‘Cause you got that community service because of me and Lane because last week I came over at some God forsaken hour and made him get up and cook. And he did.”

“One,” Sawyer replied. “You didn’t raise my fist to that idiot’s face. I got community service ‘cause I have a bit of a temper, yeah, not because of you. Two you’re important and when you need any one of us, Lane, Seabass, Robbie or me the only thing you need to do is say so. He didn’t mind getting up and cooking for you. Trust me. And three, how the hell did the frying pan end up on the floor?”

Devin frowned. “I wasn’t thinking. The handle is cast iron, not plastic. I picked it up, burnt my hand and threw it.”

Sawyer nodded. “Lemme see your hand.”

“It's fine,” Devin said. “Not that big a deal.”

Fine. She wanted to be like that. He picked up the rest of the mess, dumped it in the trash and put the pan in the sink before holding out his hand to help Devin up. “Hand, now. I'm not askin', sugar.”

She rolled her eyes and held out her hand palm forward. It was a deep crimson but no skin was blistering. He looked at her and stuck his lip out to match her pout. “Want me to kiss it better?”

She blushed and giggled. “I think I'm fine.”

“Good,” Sawyer said. “Now c'mon, you can buy me breakfast.”

“I don't have any money,” she said. “Story of my life.”

“How about I buy you breakfast?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess so.”

Twenty minutes later they returned to the apartment with a selection of bagels, to-go-coffees and an orange juice for Devin. “Lane!” he yelled. “Breakfast.”

Lane stumbled sleepily out of the bedroom. “You know, there are nicer ways to wake somebody up.”

Sawyer shrugged, “Last I checked, nice was your thing not mine.”

Lane dug in the brown paper bag and retrieved an “everything” bagel. Those things certainly weren't Sawyer's cup of tea but Lane seemed to like them just fine. They had enough seeds and nuts and nasty crap on them that they were perfect for his tree-hugger friend.

“Aren't you late?” Lane asked. He bit the bagel and grimaced before looking in the bag for cream cheese. He spread it over the pastry and eyed Sawyer.

“Naw,” Sawyer replied. “I'll start whenever I get there.” He looked at Devin. “What are your plans for the day?”

Devin smirked. “Lane and I have an art project.”

Sawyer raised a brow. “What might that be?”

“Not telling.”

Sawyer pointed a finger at Lane. “If anything is pink or floral when I get back, I do not hold myself responsible for what I might do.”

Late chewed his bagel. “I hate pink. Are you going to be okay?”

“It'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn't he be?” Devin asked. “He's just doing community service.”

Sawyer glared at Lane, his eyes flitting back to Devin. “There's no reason I wouldn't be just fine, darlin'. Lane just needs someone or something to worry about or he doesn't know what to do with himself.”

Lane looked apologetic but remained silent. They sat and ate their bagels and Sawyer drank his coffee like it was ice cold beer on a hot summers day. If he had any chance of surviving the day, it was hidden within the caffeine