The rain slashed my face. Mixing with my tears. At first, it felt refreshing as it trickled down my face towards my open mouth, where it was pushed away by my rasping (shuddering) breath. In time it felt cold and hard, like hail, pounding on my aching cheeks, and making, my nose numb. My sneakers were flooded squish, squish, squish, along with the pounding of my feet. Thump, Thump, Thump. My breathing was hard and shallow. My legs were screaming at me to stop. But I couldn't. How long had I been running? I didn't know. "Keep running, no matter what! Fuck it all!" my mind insisted. But a small corner at the back of my brain was protesting "No, No! Stop running there's no telling what the hell you'll make yourself do." “SHUT UP!” the stronger voice screamed. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!” The end of my world was drawing nearer. Closer by the second, every step brought me nearer to the edge. Then I saw it, the end of the ground, where it was met by sky. Then suddenly, I was falling, falling, falling.

Out of bed? My face was drenched with sweat, and I was tangled in my white sheets. It was only a nightmare. I slowly untangled my self, and tried to stand up, my legs were shaking so violently it was difficult. I felt weak so I supported myself on my bedside table. It shuddered under my weight.

My stomach was churning and my mouth felt dry. So I rushed to the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet, the stench infiltrated my nostrils making me want to barf, so I do. The bitter taste coursed through my mouth, invading every corner. My eyes were streaming, I stood up and washed my mouth out. The cold water splashed around in my mouth. Grrrrugl, Pluh. I swished it around and spit it into the sink. I rummaged through the basket near the sink looking for my toothbrush and found it next to the toothpaste. The bristles were hard, so as not to hurt my gums I ran my fingers over them first, hoping to loosen it a bit. I loaded on a mountain of blue tooth paste and began brushing. 1,2,3 up. 1,2,3, up. I thought consciously, it was still hard for me, brushing my teeth. The dentist is always pissed at me. Plus, they always change how they want you to brush your teeth. It's hard to keep up. The minty taste overpowered that of my last dinner. I washed my face and returned to bed.

"Ah, screw the person who came up with the idea for alarm clocks." I mutter sleepily as I open my eyes a slit. One darted look at the window told me it was still dark out. So I began my daily routine and pushed my alarm clock off my bed side table. It stopped working on the floor like it always does. The only difference was this time, I didn't get woken up until 1:00 in the afternoon.

I woke up to the sound of my mother rapping on the door.

"Jace!" she called softly, using her pet name for me, "Get up hun. We need to talk."

I knew that couldn’t be good. Usually when she starts a conversation with that it was because, I was in trouble in school, she found out that I skipped it again, my marks were dropping or she was trying to get me to agree on something with her.

"Give me a second!" I groaned, opening my eyes for the third time that day.

The sun was now high in the sky, pouring through my window, and hurting my eyes. I squinted, and peered around my room. I spotted my jeans on the floor and slowly dragged myself out of bed. I stood up, and was delighted to find that I could actually stand up, unlike this morning. (The first time I tried to get up at 2:00." I stumbled clumsily over to my jeans and pulled them one. On my way out the door I grabbed my Knicks T- shirt I had flung there just over 12 hours ago.

I plodded down the stairs. And went into our kitchen, it was pretty modern, considering my mom is totally obsessed with conserving old houses. I opened the fridge and opened the container of leftover pizza from last night.

Nothing like cold pizza in the morning, and, hey, a guy's gotta eat, right?

I strolled casually into the living room, and plopped down onto the new leather couch my step-dad had just bought. He's a pretty cool guy. I never really knew my dad, so I've never felt like he was trying to take over his place, or anything like what happens in those cheesy movies. ‘Cus my dad never had a place in my life.

My mom eyed my hotly. Even getting close to making a mess was to close for her. She liked to have everything so fucking precise.

"Jason, go get a plate." She warned, "And next time eat cereal. Cold pizza is not a good breakfast for a growing boy."

Rolling my eyes and exhaling jokingly, to show what a big deal this was. I had to go a whole FIVE STEPS, to the kitchen, and open a cupboard to get a plastic bowl. (Dude that was sarcastic by the way. You probably couldn't tell, cuz all the bitches at my school said I had crap sarcasm. But fuck them, eh?)

When I returned, my mom was sitting upright in her favorite chair. It was hard backed with a springy seat. She wasn't smiling, so I knew she meant business. But despite her effort to look professional, I flopped down on the couch, over the armrest and lay on it not even looking at her.

"Tho wath ufff?" I asked, my mouth full of pizza. I had a hard time not spewing my breakfast everywhere. (Translation: So what's up? But I bet you knew that right? Any teenager would know that. We know what we’re doing when it comes to talking with shit in our mouths, right?)

"Jason. How many times to I have to tell you? Don't talk with food in your mouth. It drives you father crazy!" Mom scolded me. "After this discussion, you'll have to go stand by the stove.

Yeah, we call my step-dad ‘Dad.’ So don't get confused there's only one dad here. And my family has this really stupid rule that whenever we speak with food in our mouth we have to go stand by the stove. To tell you the truth it's quiet embarrassing, especially in front of my friends.

I chuckled. I knew she wouldn't make me. We all hated the rule, but my dad really thought it was a ‘good thing that we discipline ourselves’. He always told the same story, He owns a company and when he is working with people, and they chew woth their mouths open or talk with their mouths full or smack their lips, it drives him nuts. He always ends the story by saying that ‘when you do those things people can't help but think of you as a pig.’

"Well." Mom began, she faltered and I knew she was thinking of how to say it. Knowing this could not be good, I braced myself for the worst.

"It's been decided." She continued. And gave me a stern look. So I knew I had no choice in the matter. And that's when I really started worrying.

But when she told me I wasn't prepared. I had braced myself for the worst, but even that couldn't help me. I gaped open mouthed at her.

"Moving!?!" I repeated so lowly I doubt she heard me.

I wanted to yell, I wanted to throw stuff. I wanted to break things. My mind was racing. I wanted to ask 'How can you do this to me? I like it here. This is my home. All my friends are here.' But I couldn't. My throat was thick and I could feel the lump in it. I didn't trust myself not to break into tears. I make a point not to cry in front of anyone. So to avoid embarrassment I just walked upstairs.

I could hear my mom calling after me.

"Jace, hunny, don't worry. It's only for a year or two. We'll be back. Your father has to plan, build, open and find employees for a new office."

They had considered this before. We had almost moved to Texas, and they had considered that twice. Once it was the same deal as this. The other was when SARS hit Toronto. They didn't want us to get sick. So we could have gone to live in Houston, until the whole thing blew over. But it was done in about four months. So I didn't have to go through with the whole ordeal.

I pushed open my door, fell on my bed and cranked my music up full blast, and drowned myself in the sounds of the Marilyn Manson.

"Moving?" Spencer asked. Then he started to smile. "OK, Jace, this prank is getting old. You pulled it once before this summer, and once a year before that."

"Dude, I actually mean it this time." I told him sadly.

"Oh." Spencer said. I could tell he didn't know what to say. I guess that's what happens when you know someone for your whole life. Like Spencer and I. And now I was leaving. I know it sounds sappy. But I really thought we would spend our whole lives together. You know, we had been in each other’s classes for as far as we could remember. We planned on going to college together, and we would be roomies.

But I guess that was never meant to happen. Because, for the next two years I began an adventure that could last a lifetime.