Drake lit up a cigarette. He looked around angrily; it was a sunny day in Arizona. He cut through the fields and woods he and Aaron still loitered around. But instead of sword fighting and role-playing, they would sit around and drink, talk about women, bands, and most of the time Aaron would give a history lesson.

"You're obsessed," Drake would say when Aaron went in a rant about Nelson or Napoleon. Aaron would take a drag from his cigarette and continue.

Teachers loved Aaron - absolutely adored him for his interest in learning. They didn't understand why he was still friends with a dropout like Drake, but none of them had the audacity to voice their concerns. Aaron was extremely defensive of Drake and was easy to upset. Drake thought he was a drama queen. He cared for Aaron immensely but was more laid back and usually let Aaron fight his own battles.

Drake hung back from coming in view of his house. He took one last inhale and discarded the butt, wishing it would set fire to the field and make life a little more interesting.

He saw someone standing by the door - waiting. It was Celeste. Drake took a deep breath and started forward. She spotted him and stood, nervously wringing her hands.

"What are you doing here, Celeste?" Drake had a tired tone, as if it was a regular occurrence for a girl to be waiting for him at his door.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him as if she would speak while her eyebrows fell into sadness.

"Have you come to yell at me? Slap me or something?"

"I to yell at you," Celeste admitted, "But what good would it do me? You don't care anyway do you? You don't care about anybody." She sat down, exhausted from her fury. "You can't just let someone get attached to you and then pick up and leave them! I can accept us just being friends - at least! But to have no contact what-so-ever? How can you do this too me? Am I not worth your time?!"

"I'm not worth your time," Drake replied matter-of-factly.

"Shut up! I'm smarter than that! Is that something you tell all the girls you use and discard?"

Drake nodded, "That's why I'm not worth your tears."

"Who said I was crying," Celeste questioned with a few tears streaming down her face. "Okay. You're right, you aren't worth it. I'm wanted by other guys who are cuter and better than you."

"Of course you are, Celeste. You're very cute."

She stared at him, confused as ever, "I hate you."

"You should," he agreed.

Her tone suddenly changed, "Drake, I think you need some help."

"You can't change me. No one can change me."

"Don't you get lonely? Being so isolated? Is it easier to push people away? I think you need to confront this."

He looked at her angrily, "Don't try to stick a psycho label on me. I'm just an asshole - so accept it and move on."

Celeste stood up determinedly and stared at him for a long time without speaking as if she was tracing her mind for something purposeful to say. Tears flooded her face, like a water balloon popping, "What's wrong with you?!"

Drake pushed past her to the front door screen, "Just leave me alone already." He walked inside without looking back at the wreck he'd left behind him.

Picksy ran up to him in an excited mood that was rare for her. "Hi Drake!" She smiled, "I wrote a new story and Miss Nadar really liked it! She said she's going to enter it in a young writers contest! Do you want to read it? It's about three friends who -"

"No," Drake cut her off, "I'm busy. Go bug mom."

Picksy was stunned into a hurt silence. Drake went into the kitchen and set his book bag on the table.

"Picksy, where is mom?"

But Picksy didn't answer him. She trudged up the stairs to her room.

Drake sighed, "Stupid."

He drank milk from the bottle and wiped the mustache off with a sleeve. The house was a little too quiet. Usually his mother would have on some Latin music or be watching loud daytime T.V. shows on the weekends. But she could be resting, Drake thought. Or maybe she was drunk.

Drake ran up the green carpeted steps that'd been unnecessarily vacuumed earlier that day. He barged in his mother's room, not caring to knock. On the bed, there was a bundle of a person, hair messy and sprawled all over the pillow. She moaned.

Well at least she's alive, Drake thought. "Mom, did you celebrate early?"

Diana stirred, "What?" she asked drearily.

"Did one of your drunkard girlfriends come over and drop off a friendly little bottle of whisky? Champagne? Rum?"

"Don't talk to me that way," she mumbled beneath the covers.

Drake turned to the door, "Fine, stay that way."

She started to cry, "Drakey!"

He shook his head and walked to the bed, throwing off the covers. He felt like telling her off, just telling her to drown herself in alcohol and die so he and Picksy wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. But Diana was the one person he didn't speak his mind to all the time. Maybe it was conditioning from childhood not to talk down to one's mother. Maybe it was some twisted sort of love and respect. He thought about asking Picksy to help him - turn on the shower and grab some towels or something, but she took care of her mother most of the time and as much as he wanted to punish the little nine year old, he figured no kid deserved this day after day.

After he'd helped his mother stumble into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and threw a couple of towels on the clothes trunk. "Get cleaned up and I'll make you a sandwich."

She smiled strangely, "You're such a nice boy."

Drake laughed, "You really are slammed." He shut the door and ran downstairs to prepare lunch.

"Picksy! What do you want on your sandwich?!"

He heard footsteps race downstairs, "Just peanut butter," she semi-smiled.

"Ok, but you have to eat something besides that."

"Granola bar," she grabbed one from the pantry.

Diana came downstairs in a pink bathrobe and sat down immediately, rubbing her head and asking for aspirin.

Drake refused her, "You know that stuff doesn't mix with alcohol."

He tossed a sandwich in front of Picksy and a ham sandwich to Diana.

"Awww...Drake you know I don't like crusts!" Picksy replied before thinking.

"Cut 'um off yourself." He sat down across from his mother and took a bite of his own lunch.

"What happened to my nice boy?" Diana asked curiously.

"I can't do everything," Drake stated flatly. "If she wants to be difficult she can fix things herself."

"Did you read her story?" Diana asked sleepily. Drake wondered how she managed to sober up so quickly.

"No."

"Don't worry about it mom," Picksy interrupted. "Drake isn't into those kinds of stories."

"Nonsense," Diana answered with that tone of disbelief, "He reads stories all the time, like those Stephen King books."

Drake chewed his sandwich, irritated. "Alright Picksy, bring me your dumb story. I'll get Aaron to read it to me; at least he'll make it interesting."

Diana gave him a harsh look, about to scold him, but Picksy interrupted. "Aaron?! I don't know if I want him to read it."

"Why not? I'm a harder critic than he is."

She blushed, "What if he doesn't like it?"

Drake stared at her dumbfounded; a mouth opened wide with goop, "What if I don't like it?! What the hell does it matter to you what Aaron thinks?"

She stared at the butter knife in her hands and slowly cut off the crusts, unresponsive.

Drake released a long sigh and rolled his eyes. Picksy wrapped her sandwich in a paper towel and ran up to her room.

Diana looked after her sadly and decided not to get involved.

"It's a really good story. Her best yet."

0000000000000000000000000

Drake wasted away the hours reading everything but his sister's story and playing on his computer. Finally 5:00 rolled around and he called Aaron.

"Hi Drake," Aaron answered.

"Hey man, whatcha doin?"

"Nothing. I just got home like 20 minutes ago. Did you want to do something?"

"Yeah, let’s go to the woods. Celeste stopped by my house today."

"No way, what'd you say?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"Alright, now I'm interested," Aaron laughed. "Meet you there in five."

Drake hung up. He always hung up before giving anyone a chance to say goodbye.

Aaron sat on a tree limb, looking bored. "Drake, you suck! You live closer to this place than me and you always make me wait."

Drake smiled, "I like to take my time."

"So what happened with Celeste?"

"I don't know man. She just showed up."

"What'd she say?" Aaron always had to probe him before anything interesting came out.

Drake grabbed a cigarette out of his jean pocket. "She was all upset. 'What's wrong with you, how could you forget about me,' you know all that stuff."

Aaron shook his head, "You really shouldn't treat her that way. She's not a bitch like the others. She really cares about you."

Drake growled, "Agh! Not you too?"

Aaron laughed surrendering, "Okay. So anyway, what is that? Is that Picksy's spiral or do you suddenly like pink and glittery yellow stars?"

Drake punched him and scowled, "It's her new 'story'. Her teacher wants to put it in a contest. Mom's making me read it."

Aaron snatched the spiral, "Her stuff is really good for a nine-year-old. If she keeps this up, she could make it."

"Yeah, sure."

Aaron opened the spiral and laughed at the big flowery print on the first page. The title read, "Denise."

"Should I start reading it aloud?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah, I've got a cigarette. I can stand it. Besides, mom might quiz me on it or something."

Aaron didn't like the way Drake offended his sister in anyway he could when she wasn't around. It was even worse when he was rude in front of her. But if you wanted to stay friends with Drake, you had to compromise.

Aaron read and Drake listened filling with loathing at the feeling that he actually sort of liked it.

The story was about a girl named Denise who was often teased but made friends with two new girls who didn't know anything about her. The new girls were not happy being teased for hanging out with her but they put up with it out of pity. When they found out Denise was into witchcraft - they suddenly distanced themselves. She tried to get revenge by ruining their lives - casting spells to break up their relationships with their boyfriends and getting them in trouble by framing them for vandalizing the school. In the end though, Denise had forgotten the most important rule of being a witch. Harm you do to others comes back three-fold.

"Wow," Aaron finished. "I didn't expect something this good from her. Her writing has really improved and she had some real intense issues in here."

"Really 'intense issues'?" Drake teased.

"Come on, don't tell me you didn't like it?"

"It was alright."

Aaron turned to him and gave him a condescending look; he sometimes did without thinking about it, "Why don't you act like an older brother. She accomplishes something like this, you're supposed to be proud of her and let her know it."

"Shut up Aaron."

"What? What is it? Why are you so mean to her?" Aaron rarely fought with Drake, afraid that at any minute, Drake would drop him like he did to so many others. But he suddenly felt strongly about defending Picksy, who was more like a sister to him than Jeanne. "She's such a sweet girl; always anxious for your approval."

"I hate her," Drake answered sharply.

"What? Hate her? Why?"

"It's her fault. Everything is her fault. If she hadn't lied about dad, then he wouldn't be in jail. Our mother wouldn't be a drunk. We'd have a normal family like yours."

Aaron suddenly felt awkward and embarrassed. "Drake, how do you know she was lying?" He knew this was the worst thing he could possibly suggest at the moment. Drake loved his father; they were extremely close and Drake often blew off family plans to visit his dad in prison.

"Do you know what you're saying? You think my dad would ever do something that disgusting? You're full of it Aaron! You don't know anything! Picksy is a liar! She's filthy! She's the Devil disguised as a nine-year-old!"

Aaron's forehead burned with anxiety, "I can't believe you talk about her that way. She went through something terrible. Yeah, I don't understand what it was like, but neither do you! We can't imagine what that poor girl suffered!"

Drake pushed Aaron off the limb and jumped down after him. Aaron hit the ground with a thud. It certainly was familiar.

Drake looked down on him and scowled, "You do think he did it! What the hell kind of friend are you?! My dad thinks of you as his own son! How could you accuse him of something like that?!"

Aaron sat up on his hands and winced, "How could you accuse your sister of lying about something so big?"

Drake turned furiously and ran towards the fields. Aaron scrambled to his feet but Drake yelled behind him, "Don't follow me! I don't want to see you again!"

Diana covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Drake,” she yelled, “Aaron’s on the phone!”

“Tell him I’m in the shower,” he yelled back.

She shook her head and gave Aaron the same worn out, apologetic tone she’d been forced to give the past two days. “I’m sorry, he’s still being rude.”

Aaron sighed, “It’s alright. I understand.”

“Drake will probably stop being selfish and get lonely pretty soon. You can come over if you want. Picksy and I are inviting you for dinner.”

“No that’s alright. I guess I need to give him some time. Thank you.”

“No problem sweetie. Bye.” Diana hung up the phone and grabbed a coke out of the fridge. Picksy was locked up in her room, apparently devastated from the lack of communication between Aaron and her brother.

Diana peeked around the corner and watched her son sit motionless on the couch in the living room, flipping through channels.

She decided to grab another coke.

“Honey,” she sat down next to him, handing him his drink, “Why are you ignoring Aaron?”

“We got in a fight.”

“What kind of fight could you have that would ruin your friendship? This is the longest you’ve gone without talking to him.”

“Don’t be offended if I say it’s none of your business.” He replied and took a sip.

“Whatever,” Diana rolled her eyes.

The two of them sat in silence for a while.

“Hey mom, I’m going to go see dad tomorrow morning.”

“Oh…Okay.”

“Why do you always do that?” Drake demanded.

“What?”

“You always act so strange when I go visit him. You never have anything to say to him – your own husband!”

Diana looked furious. Ten thousand emotions tore her apart at once. “I don’t know what to think about your father. I love him but I can’t imagine why he would do something so…horrible to your sister.”

“You can’t imagine it, because it’s not possible,” Drake corrected.

“I don’t know that that’s true Drake. Little kids don’t lie about things like that. She was only six years old. Where would she come up with a story like that?”

“It happens,” Drake insisted. “Maybe a friend of hers said something about the subject. Kids do lots of stupid things to get attention.”

“Thing is,” Diana interrupted, “There was considerable evidence.”

Drake was silent for a minute, trying to remember all the events three years ago but they flashed by his mind too fast to grasp.

His voice lowered, “Like what?”

Diana shook her head nervously, “Bruises, scratches. The way Picksy played with her dolls.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“Because I thought you were too young at the time…and I never found a way to discuss these things with either you or Picksy. They’re just too complicated.”

Drake shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you would defend her! Dad would never do something like that, God!”

He stood up immediately and grabbed his back pack.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside. I can’t sleep here tonight!”

Perfect blue light illuminated the sidewalk of Drake’s neighborhood. The black shadows of trees stirred; leaves crashing together, the sound of ocean spray on a rocky shore. The sky was almost completely black when Drake reached his hangout tree.

His backpack was prepared for the bus trip up to the prison on the outskirts of town. Inside were a couple of sandwiches and Caprisuns. Drake bit into his turkey sandwich and leaned his back against the tree.

He kept thinking, “I’m the only one on dad’s side. How could his family just abandon him? He was always working so much to get us this house and money in the bank…look at how they repay him. He wasn’t even home enough to be a part of Picksy’s little made up story. That’s all she ever does – make up stories. All writers are liars. They think life is too mundane compared to their imaginations. How stupid. Only her little fantasy has permanently ruined a man’s life. Her own father’s life. She couldn’t do any worse by killing him.”

He dozed off easily despite his rage, and his sleep was so satisfying that he hardly woke up in time to catch the bus.

Aaron had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He mostly moped around the house a little, or went to the library. That's one thing he hadn't done in a while. Hanging out with Drake pretty much made the library a taboo. Drake thought all libraries were stuffy and reminded him of school. Occassionaly they went to bookstores for a while - Drake never seemed to object to that.

This Drake-less afternoon, Aaron was working on some homework when Jeanne passed by his open door and stood there for a few minutes.

"So where's that idiot friend of yours?"

"You know we fought."

"So he dumped you then?" She snickered.

"Shut up Jeanne." She was the most incensitive person he knew besides Drake.

Jeanne frowned and returned to her room.