If St. Hemling taught me anything about public education, it was that late assignments make your life miserable. And unfinished assignments (aka: assignments that are months late) make your life a living hell. That's all I learned, really, even though every minute of everyday I was supposed to be learning about how to be a better Blind Citizen in a world of Non-Blind Citizens, and how to survive on my own with only a white cane plus a tiny shred of dignity, and on top of that, constantly reminded that I need to tap into my inner "Great Blind One". What's ironic is that in order to prepare for my amazing future, the work I needed to do would most likely kill me before I actually had time to do great things to fulfill my life changing purpose. Or, give me enough time to change who I am during highschool, because I spent approximately 75 percent of my lunch everyday being lectured by my teachers for never doing anything at all; which, I admit, is fair and very true.

I suddenly bumped into a strawberry scented fluff of hair.

"Marybeth?"

"Finn! I'm coming over for the project, right? It is due in two days."

"Um, yeah, of-of course," I said quickly, trying to cover up the fact that I had completely forgotten. We were standing next to the front doors of St. Hemling, which opened every minute or so, discharging chattering students. I moved closer to Marybeth to avoid getting trampled over.

"Get out of my hair, you idiot. Don't you know what personal space is? We learned it in kindergarten." Her tone switched within a millisecond, and I quickly backed up a few steps. Her curly hair stopped tickling my face.

"We're still friends, right?" I whispered to her, jokingly. She scoffed.

A car beeped and I heard my name being called, so we walked towards the sound.

"Hi Finny! How was school? Who's this?" My mom asked.

"Who's who?" I replied.

"The girl standing right next to you, honey."

"Oh, she's my number one fan! Biggest fan! She sent me some fan mail the other day and ever since-"

"Hi, Mrs. Annson," Marybeth cut me off as politely as one can and I opened the car door for her, stifling a laugh. "Finnegan and I are partners for our Future Preparations class project. I hope you're okay with me coming over to work on it; Finn and I have planned his for a while now."

"Oh! Of course! Finnegan didn't tell me that he had a project due," my mom accused, her voice diminishing by the end of her sentence.

We both hopped onto the car, and I could tell that my mom was extremely unamused with my behaviour so I didn't crack any jokes on the ride home. In fact, I hardly spoke. It was all Marybeth. Strangely, she was the type of person that chats endlessly whilst the car is moving (I typically am not). She had a full-blown conversation with my mom about racial privileges, which affected her grandmother tremendously and also affected her and her family on a daily basis. My mom told her that she had great potential to be the face of the Blind People of Colour, and that made Marybeth very happy - I could hear it in her voice. My mom then directed the topics of futures at me and by that time I had decided that humour was indeed needed as a defence mechanism. That made my mom even more irritated with me.

Our car rolled onto the driveway and my mom opened the door for us, after she searched for her keys for a long time. The moment we walked through the door, Marybeth made herself at home. My mom left us alone and Marybeth quickly but quietly set out all of the things we needed for our project on my kitchen table, for example: my braille machine, paper, and... well, that's all because we were unable to really use any other school supply (because of blindness, of course). I went to the fridge and got us both juice boxes so that we could tap into our inner motivated-school-loving child.

"Okay," I exhaled, sat down next to Marybeth, and handed her the juice box. "What have you got? Have you started?"

She groaned, but in a friendly Marybeth way, and didn't talk for a few seconds. Then she stated abruptly, "Finnegan, you're screwed up."

"Pardon me?" I pushed up my glasses, feeling slightly hurt, even though I was aware that it was Marybeth and she was the nice kind of snappy.

"I said you're screwed up. You forgot about the project! You are practically failing History! And even Future Preparations! FP is the easiest subject that has happened since recess! You have to do your work! What do you do all day, huh?"

"Well," I started. Marybeth slurped her juice noisily, interrupting me. "Anyway, I have no motivation whatsoever to gain motivation to motivate me to be motivated."

She stopped slurping. "Your wordplay doesn't confuse me – if that's the effect you were going for."

"I-"

"Get your act together. Finals are coming up in a few weeks. I don't want you to fail life."

I started talking again, but after a few seconds I came to the realization that Marybeth had already begun typing away with ideas, and so I just sat there and listened to the keys clack.

It wasn't that I wasn't motivated. I wanted to be a good student and I did not want to go to Juvie just because I couldn't calculate my taxes right or something like that. I just didn't really know how to learn at St. Hemling. During the years Barry taught me, he followed an old curriculum (the one he used when he was a student) for me, but at St. Hemling everything was more modern. We had classes strictly for learning how to walk across streets safely with our canes, how to own a house, what careers were available for visual impaired citizens, and how to decide about which future career. We were scored on how well we could communicate with others. Which, I guess, was a nice change to the usual Math, English, and Science curriculum I was usually forced to learn with Barry. It seems that for me, realizing that there are actual visually impaired people out there, like Marybeth, who are succeeding at life - perhaps even more than a sighted person - well, it lowers self-esteem.

"Finn," I snapped out of my thoughts as Marybeth began to speak. "I'm guessing you have no idea what the project is about. So, here's a brief explanation: what's your biggest fear and how are you going to get over it?"

"That has nothing to do at all about Future Preparations."

"Shush. Mr. Roberto thinks that fear is one of the many things that prevent young adults – and adults – from pursuing what they love and being the person they want to be."

"This is too philosophical."

"Do you want to do the project or not?" She hissed.

"Okay, yes! Fine. My biggest fear is... going bald. My dad still has his hair, but my grandfather was bald at 30. It's very nerve wracking. I like to think that I have some impressive hair."

"You don't," she joked.

I ignored her. "You?"

"I fear... the aftermaths."

"Like, after math class?"

"No, of death."

"That's dark."

"It is. I don't fear dying, myself. Like, me, my body being buried into the ground. In fact, I believe in the afterlife and that excites me – when the time comes. I fear the aftermath, the aftermath of people around me dying, you know? People dropping like flies around me. Wait," she typed some things. "Okay. I don't want to feel like I need to talk to someone who isn't even alive anymore – and I don't just mean Albert Einstein. I fear being the last one left. And I'm going to deal with that, I'm going to get over the fear, but I don't know how so I'll need help on that part."

"I'm scared of that too. But I don't think that's my biggest fear."

"Think."

I did. I knew what I was scared of the most, but I didn't want to say it because it would've sounded idiotic. What kind of person is deathly scared of the future? Instead of drowning in worry, I usually just thought of who I wanted in my future. I thought about where I would be living and if I was going to marry someone. Would I have a seeing-eye dog by then? Would I have money? Would I wake up everyday and want to wake up? Would I put on a suit and go to a job or just stay in my pajamas?

Then the front door suddenly burst open and both Marybeth and I jumped straight out of our seats.

"HI FISH! I JUST GOT DEATH RACER! YOU KNOW, THE NEW GAME THAT INVOLVES RACERS CHOPPING OFF EACH OTHERS' LIMBS USING NOTHING BUT ASPHALT! IT'S SO SICK, I'M-" Egan swallowed back his excitement and panted; "you have company."

I finally let out a breath and sat down. "Egan, meet big-haired Marybeth. Marybeth, meet my game-crazed friend Egan."

"Hey," Marybeth said, uninterested, and sat down to continue shuffling around papers.

"Uh, hi, I'm... I'm Egan. Gray. I mean, my name is Egan Gray. I don't have two names, unlike you," he laughed nervously, "no! I didn't mean to say that. I mean 'cause your name is Marybeth, and Mary and Beth are both names so I just thought that it was... okay."

She giggled. I hadn't ever heard Marybeth giggle before. I also hadn't ever heard Egan stutter so much before in my life; usually I was the one that couldn't form coherent sentences.

"Hi, Egan Gray. It's alright; I get that two names thing a lot."

Egan chuckled nervously, and dragged me into the kitchen. I tried not to trip over my own feet on the way over there, which was hard, because Egan sometimes forgot I was blind and couldn't see where he was tossing me.

"What are you guys doing?" He whispered to me through gritted teeth.

"Marybeth and I are just friends; if that's what you wanted to know. We always will be, because we're going to fail this freaking project because of me and she's going to want to kill me. Why the hell are you stuttering?"

"I am?"

"God, I thought you were the smooth one. Yes, you were. We need to work on this project, Egan. You can stay if you want. Actually, it'd be nice to have some sighted person feedback."

He agreed and carefully guided me back to the kitchen table, where Marybeth was still click-clacking away.

"Okay, Finn. So we could be boring and write a superstar essay about what our fears are and how we will conquer them. Or we could be creative and make something that no one has ever done before. Or we could be mediocre and do a bit of both."

"I like the last option."

"Exactly what I thought you would say." Marybeth said, and Egan guffawed dramatically. I elbowed him so that he would stop.

"Egan," Marybeth said quietly, "what's your biggest fear?"

"Me?" Egan asked hesitantly.

"I did say your name, didn't I?"

After that he answered much too quickly. "Being a disappointment. I fear being a disappointment to my mom, especially, but also to those around me. I want to be the best, and I'm good at being the best, and I also hope this doesn't sound arrogant. I fear... the look on peoples' faces when I do something that doesn't make them proud, which is so sad, because that makes me constantly seek approval. But I'm afraid of disappointing myself as well, I'm afraid of becoming a person that I don't want to be. It's very easy and it happens too much of the time, so much of the time, that one day I'm afraid it'll be permanent. "

"Holy crap," Marybeth's fingers were typing so fast it sounded like a stampede on my little braille machine. "That was so freaking good. That was the holy grail of fears. That was beautiful! Can I trade Finn for you as a partner? Are you always like this?"

I scoffed. "He's nowhere as dark and murky as me." Egan agreed.

"Okay, then tell me your dark and murky thoughts. We need to do this project before my dad comes to pick me up."

I gulped and bit my lip nervously. I thought about Mr. Roberto, who taught FP (Future Preparations), and what he always said about futures. He had a good life; I knew a lot about him. Mr. Roberto talked about himself most of the time. For example, I knew Mr. Roberto had a wife and two children - one girl and one boy, both under 10. His wife was from America and had an unhealthy obsession with the colours blue and red (which, he insists is unrelated to the previous fact), and Mr. Roberto hates Jeeps and Ferraris because he thinks one is a try hard and the other is similar to a cocky businessman. He loves the outdoors and he became a teacher even though everyone around thought he was too much of a "bad boy" to teach kids, so he resorted to teaching teens. Mr. Roberto is also an avid smoker and I try not to judge him but I'm pretty sure he also smoked things that did not contain nicotine in them. I knew Mr. Roberto better than myself.

"I fear tomorrows." Silence. "Not, like, the literal tomorrow. Um, okay, not the day after today, that's what I mean. I'm afraid of not knowing what the future brings for me. I'm in a predicament wherein I spend more time being worried about the future than being excited about it. I'm fifteen years old, I'm going to be sixteen before I know it, and I fear that. Isn't that twisted? Some peoples don't have futures, and I feel like I am one of them, I feel like I'm a person that is going to be like a boulder in a stream. I fear of not being able to move, but I fear moving, too. The world freaks me out, guys."

"Yeah, you're darker. You are one melodramatic person, Finnegan," Marybeth said, typing still. "But there are perks to your condition. You feel, and that's good. And, you know, I was wrong that day I said some people don't have futures. Everyone has a future, everyone has a tomorrow, and I want you to know that. Right, Egan?"

He agreed quietly, his leg thumping rhythmically on the ground beside me. That meant he was listening.

"I think the conclusion I have drawn from this is that we're all afraid to grow up." I whispered.

"Oh my God, that's pathetic." Egan said. I laughed, because it was true.

"These fears are so stupid. Fear of people dying? Fear of disappointing? Fear of tomorrows?" Marybeth commented as well, and we all started laughing. Marybeth had even stopped typing because she was laughing so hard at our stupid fears. We were all scared of growing up, and that's something that you cannot avoid. We laughed because we were already facing our fears, in fact we were drowning in them, and even though we were facing them we were still scared. So does that really work – the facing your fears thing? Can fears be faced?

We stopped laughing before my parents could come in and diagnose my friends as psychopaths. Marybeth told me that she wanted to write the mediocre essay for the both of us because she couldn't hold back all the great individual ideas she had. And I didn't complain, of course, because as long as she wrote the essay we would be getting a good mark. Then we started talking about things that didn't really connect with our school life, which was good. Egan asked me if Orenda had talked to me since we went on our date, and I said no, because she told me that she was going on a little trip with her mom and she wouldn't pick up the phone. Marybeth then mocked me for having a girlfriend, and said that I wasn't her type. "Why? Am I not dreamy enough?" was my argument. The two had many more comebacks for that, and I couldn't really counter them.

Then Egan asked Marybeth if she had a boyfriend. She said no. By that time I had made him leave so that I wouldn't make her more uncomfortable than she probably already was.

After Egan left, the house became extremely quiet, and my mom started freaking out and making the both of us dinner and Marybeth couldn't stop saying thank you. My mom left the two of us alone, though, once our burgers had been made; my dad stole an enormous bite out of mine, which made Marybeth laugh.

"So," Marybeth chewed for a while, "you have a girlfriend. Her name is Orenda."

"Yes."

"Little Finnegan Annson, master ditcher and teacher annoyer of St. Hemling, has a girlfriend."

"Yes, I guess."

"Do you like her?"

"Very much."

A moment.

"Amie killed herself."

I stopped moving completely. I stopped chewing for a minute, I even stopped breathing because I thought my breaths were too loud. Marybeth kept eating, like there was nothing wrong at all. "Oh," was all I came up with.

"I don't know why she did it. It was only a year ago, and I feel like it was yesterday. You know, everyone acted like the worst thing on earth happened to me after Amie died. Which, to be honest, is true. But I didn't want them to act like they knew it was the worst thing that could happen to me because it only made it seem more real. But, they did. And everyday it gets more real."

"I'm so sorry."

"Isn't everyone."

"I really am-"

She stopped talking for a second and sighed, almost contently.

"I loved her. I really did. More than a friend, if you know what I mean. I loved her, so, so much."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I'm sorry."

"You probably don't really care about all this," She stood up. I did too. We brought our plates to the sink, walking slowly like two blind mice.

"I think I care a bit too much about this," I replied. Marybeth chuckled softly and we walked back to the table. She gathered the papers while I stood there.

The doorbell rang after a while, and I opened the door. Marybeth's dad was there, and he thanked me for having her over, and I told him that it was "no problem!" and "very fun" and "for a project" and etc. She slipped on her shoes after feeling around for them for a while. Then Marybeth told her dad to wait for her in the car because she had forgotten something. So, he left, his footsteps stomping down the driveway.

And then she grabbed my arm softly, in a very friendly way. It was surprisingly non-threatening. I could almost sense the little girl in her again. "See you at school, Finn. And stay alive." She let go of my arm. "You know, since the project is worth 25 percent of our mark. And you're a good, yet annoying person. You would've been good friends with Amie."

She left just like that, closing the door behind her.

-----/////----

I couldn't sleep that night, not very well at least. My window was open but my blankets and pillows were positioned almost perfectly, so I didn't want to leave that kind of comfort just to close the window. The problem was that the wind outside was too loud and it blew through my bones, despite my blanket covering me. The wind reminded me of Willow and that reminded me of Orenda, who was probably sleeping at the time. Or maybe Orenda wasn't sleeping and she was sitting in a bed, wrapped up in blankets that were made to keep her safe but actually ended up doing the exact opposite. But she was probably sleeping, with the smell of cookies and lasagna that her mom made wafting into her nose calmly.

I finally decided to toss off my blankets and go close the window. I made my way over there slowly, my feet making soft slaps against the floor, and slammed it shut.

The phone rang.

I quickly ran out of my room and once I got to it I picked it up, hoping that the ringing hadn't disturbed my mom or dad.

"Hello?" I said drowsily. I had been awake for forever but I still felt like I had just woken up.

"Finnegan?"

"Barry?"

"Finnegan, hello?" The line was scratchy.

"Barry? My annoying tutor?"

"Finnegan," the line suddenly went clear, and Barry started scolding me, "that was rude."

"My apologies," I sighed.

"I'm so sorry for calling so late. I know it's the middle of the night but I wanted to let you know that I'm in the airport right now with my friend, and we're going to board the plane very soon."

Confusion swept over me, for the millionth time that day. "Plane? Is your heart okay? Where are you going? Didn't you have a heart attack only a few months ago, that's-"

"Finnegan, relax," he said quietly. I had to strain my ears so that I could hear him over the hectic background chatter. "My doctor said I was completely fine. My friend is young and sighted and he is taking good care of me. We're going to be flying to Australia."

"Australia?!" I almost screamed, but I kept my voice down and took a deep breath. "That's very far from Ontario."

"It is. I have taught you well."

I forced a laugh to encourage his terrible humour.

"But why are you leaving?"

"I've written a novel."

"WHAT?"

"And I know someone in Australia who would love to publish it. And I'm going to be working there and continuing my passion."

"Oh, uh, congratulations." I yawned.

"Thank you."

"I thought you hated airplanes. I thought you were terrified of them."

"I am."

"And you're going on one; you do realize that, right?"

"I fear many things, Finnegan. Airplanes are on the top of the list. And I'm going on an airplane because that fear is one of the many things holding me back from being a Great Blind One. I am not Stevie Wonder. I have not been blessed with superior skills and talent. I am an ordinary man, but I am going on the airplane because I am going to become a Great Blind One the moment I face that fear. I am going to make my dreams become a reality, though I am approaching 70 and I may not live much longer, I am going to be who I've always wanted to be. You've helped me realize this, too, Finnegan. It's never too late to become a Great Blind One."

After a few seconds I finally said, "thank you, Barry. You're a great friend."

"And so are you." A distant voice in the phone babbled for a while. "We're boarding. Tell your parents goodbye, for now. I will be staying in contact."

"I will."

"Bye Finnegan."

"Wait, Barry."

"Yes?"

I sighed, and smiled. "Write your Dotted Sidewalks."

He chuckled quietly over the line. It wasn't a hollow chuckle, I could tell, but it didn't sound fully honest either. I take that back – it did. Barry chuckled a full, honest chuckle and it made me smile.

"I will Finnegan, I will."

I didn't say anything after that, and he didn't either. The line went dead.

I set the phone back up on the wall with a click and went to sleep.

Author's Note :)

Hey guys I have arrived! 

HOW WAS THIS CHAPTER??? I KNOW IT WAS VERY LONG AND MY HEAD HURTS CUZ OF ALL THE THINKING AND EDITING HA (I am not screaming at you I am just very excited that I wrote words lol)

Also, how have your summers been? I went on a trip a little while ago to New York City and like all these other states in the US like Pennsylvania and Connecticut and Massachusetts and New Jersey and also Toronto! It was really cool for me to go back to Toronto especially cuz a) this story is based in the area I stayed in lolol and b) i met all of my old friends who I love dearly and missed so much and c) I just felt really at home a lot of the time which is coolcoolcool

Do any of you guys live in those places? just wondering (ps plz do not think I am trying to stalk you, thought now I've said that it seems like I am)

A Q! What have you guys done so far this summer? What are you excited for?

to be honest all i've really done is watch Grey's on Netflix hahaha i'm so lame and it makes me so sad save me

LOVE U ALL SM HAVE A GREAT DAY HAVE A GREAT LIFE

JEN <3