"I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back anymore- the feeling that I could last forever, outlast the sea, the earth and all men." Joseph Conrad

"Reese!"

"Izzy!" Izzy jumped into Reese's arms, regardless of whether he was ready to catch her or not. He was one of her closest friends damn it- he better be ready, able and willing to catch her. He did and they hugged. As he put her down she took a good look at him, eying him up. His hair was now returned to black, hanging into his eyes and curling over his ears, last year's peroxide and blue streaks washed and faded out. He had only grown about an inch and would probably not grow much more, she realized- neither would she, she thought, he would always be a few inches taller than her. He grinned, white teeth flashing against his Egyptian dark skin. "How are you? Where's your dorm? It's good to see you."

"Fine, tired. Did you fly? Laster Hall- first floor. It's good to see you too-I missed you. How was Seattle?"

"Yeah, in from Baton Rouge. Didn't bother to unpack, just switched suitcases. Seattle was beautiful in a weird, sopping wet Irish way- did you get the ring?"

"Yeah, thanks! It's so pretty- my collection had grown. I noticed your necklace has more metal." Reese reached to the back of his neck and unclasped his hemp choker, handing it to her. Every time he went to a new place he unwove part of it and added apiece of currency, then rewove it. She ran her fingers over the coins, warm from the heat of Reese's neck, heavy with weight. "What hall are you in?"

"Richards. 3rd floor."

"You unpack yet?"

"Just the importants- guitar, amp, stereo-"

"Camera, supply of tape, Lucky Charms and all other food by- products," Izzy recited. She was surprised Reese wasn't still filming. He had been before she saw him, recording the chaotic soap operas around 525 students and their families on Arrival Day. "Room mate?"

"Dylan Markovitch."

"I think he's on my class register. Meet him yet?"

"Nope- his stuff wasn't there either. Maybe I get a no show. All the more space to throw my things. You?"

"Jessica Hsiao. Said to call her Elmo. She's nice- in your class."

"Really? Another Film? The class looks really small- maybe 6 people."

"Same here. I better go get unpacking though," she said. He nodded, saying good-bye and raised the camera, walking away and filming again.

** "Reese?" "Yup. You're Dylan?" "Uh huh." Dylan stuck out his hand for Reese to shake- he shook with his left, his right hindered by a Velcro camera strap. Dylan looked for a minute at the silver rings on Reese's hands and sized the guy up, as was his habit. It had started on the lacrosse fields and now he couldn't stop. Thin, but sinewy looking, about 5'9''. Shaggy black hair that fell in front of his eyes, a little past ear length all around the curled slightly at the tips. "What class?"

"Huh?" Dylan stopped staring at Reese's neck and the different colored metal coins on a necklace there. "Critiquing Pop Culture. Essays. You?"

"Film. Been to Bergen before?"

"Nope- Princeton, 2 years."

"16?"

"Yeah. Your last year too?"

"Yup. Your parents gone?"

"About 10 minutes ago. Yours?"

"Took a plane. Unaccompanied minor. My dad couldn't get off from work."

"It's Saturday."

"Army."

"Oh. Move a lot?"

"Yeah- 11 times in 16 years, and eight of those years were stationary in Egypt."

"Wow. You born there?"

"Base off of Cairo- where my dad met my mum. She was a student writing a paper on American culture and he was one of the soldiers she interviewed."

"Oh. What does she do now?" "She's dead." Reese broke Dylan's gaze and went to his trunk, covered in street signs and stickers, not all in English.

"Oh. Sorry."

"'S ok. What do your parents do?"

"Dad's head of marketing for a sports company and Mom works as a business administrator for a school in my town."

"What company?"

"LA Wheels?"

"Your dad works for LA Wheels? Do you get free merch?"

"Not a big skateboarder. More into lacrosse," said Dylan motioning to his equipment piled in a corner and his NJ Pride poster.

"Shame." Reese pulled out a skateboard; covered in enough stickers that Dylan couldn't see the brand. "Do you mind if I practice my guitar? I mean, not right now but later. I mean."

"No, I mean you can if you don't mind me practicing lacrosse and stick handlings. Why would I mind though?"

"My room mate last year used to ask me to go out on the Quad, kind of anal when it came to me playing. He was cool otherwise though. I had only been living in America for a few months so he American-ized me in a way."

"What do you mean?" Dylan went to his suitcase and began to remove his socks and boxers and shove them into the top drawer. He hadn't remembered packing this much or this neatly- his mother must have gone through his luggage when he wasn't looking.

"Made me stop spelling 'color' and 'colour' for one. I had just come out of Ireland. Putting letters where they didn't belong, according to him."

"Where have you lived?" Dylan turned his head to watch Reese close his eyes and stand, concentrating.

"Louisiana- Baton Rouge, currently. Seattle. Hawaii. Ireland. London. Germany. France. Israel. Scotland. Puerto Rico. And Egypt."

"Wow. You speak any other languages?" "English. Passable German and French. No Spanish by now. Arabic but I'm rusty. Can't speak it at home cause my dad."

"Cause of you mom?"

"Yeah. Have you lived anywhere other than NJ?"

"Gave myself away with the NJ Pride poster, huh?" New York- Manhattan. I was born there and when I was adopted I moved to NJ."

"You are adopted?"

"Yeah- when I was four. I still go into New York a lot. Why did you choose this site? I mean, isn't there one in Ireland?"

"Yeah I went there when I was 14 and to the one in Germany when I was 13, but I went here last year because they have a base nearby and my dad thought maybe he'd get transferred here. Plus they are the only site that allows skateboarding. You?"

"Thought I'd try something new as Princeton doesn't have the greatest writing courses."

"What do you write?"

"I like to do comic storylines- any kind of stories actually. But I thought this course looked cool. You do film on your own?"

"Yeah- couple of classes but mainly self taught by books and movies. Thought this course would give me a bit of direction to where I want to go with it."

"Cool- your sounds so much more thought out than mine." Reese laughed.

"You should meet my friend Izzy. She's a cool and draws all the time- comics mainly."

"Awesome!" Reese smiled and nodded, turned back to unpacking. Dylan looked him over once more, the piles of CDs balanced precautiously on his lumpy mattress, the shining black guitar. Dylan nodded to himself- Cool. This guy was cool- and turned back to unpacking.

A/n: I will be using song lyrics to start of every chapter but this one, and any notes from me to you that I might throw in. If you want, read the lyrics. I attempted to hose them to have some meaning but whatever. Read what you'd like. This story takes place at a camp similar to the JHU/CTY camps that are run through out the world and (mainly) the US. If given the opportunity, go. They're rather cool (Lancaster- alma matter!) Anyway, I will be incorporating several traditions that I learned there when I attended and will attempt to explain them to the best of my knowledge. But yes. On with the story. Oh and brownie points to anyone who knows where I got the name "LA Wheels" from