It was fifth grade summer and I had just graduated from Elementary school. I remember being in a blissful mood because my last day was fun-filled. All the fifth graders went on a field trip to the park, where we had a blow up jumper, a rock climbing set up, and water balloon fight.

My childhood best friend Kattie Hensworth met me that year. I called her kit-kat and she called me lia-bug short for Emilia Bennet. She had honey wheat blond hair, antique brass eyes, and a chubby freckled face. I had absurdly huge emerald-green eyes, dimpled cheeks, and then short chopped bark colored hair that was up to my chin. My frame was thin and awkward but Kattie never judge and her opinion was all that mattered. I adored Kattie with her pudgy body and rich chocolate smelling home, and she adored me. Together we did everything two little girls could conjure up.

Kattie lived in an enormous house at the top of the North Carolina, Asheville town's hill with her father, "Mr. Hensworth," and her year older brother, Kris. Mr. Hensworth's real name was Kevin but he seems to be a firm believer on what's proper and respectful. Apparently in his eyes addressing your elderly by their first name is disrespectful.

Her mansion had ten bedrooms, five on each floor, with four bathrooms, two on each floor, a dining room, lounging room, family room, and the world's most spacious backyard. Well not literally but it is six acres. Within the space of her family's property she had six horses, a pool, a tree house, and a shed that held hay they sold on the side.

I never gave it much thought back then I just always assumed Kattie was a princess or something naive like that but the reason Kattie is so luckily fortunate is because her Dad owns the town's most profitable chocolate factory that comes along with a ridiculously large staff. Much of the town worked at that factory including my older sister.

Mr. Hensworth had multiply people who took care of the house but they were often changing so I never bothered to learn their names, he even hired a caretaker for Kattie and Kris, her name is Margaline. I couldn't decipher if it was her last or first name that was Margaline because she, like Mr. Hensworth made us address her as Miss Margaline. Kattie and I never saw the point in calling her "Miss" Margaline since she was barely in her twenty's.

Margaline was proud woman, with stark glossy-black hair that hung in wavy curls below her neck. Her clothes were always crisp tight and revealing. Her eyes were a piercingly blizzard blue that only lite up when she saw Mr. Hensworth and since Kattie was Daddy's girl, things would always heat up when Margaline was around.

When she walked into a room, everyone would stop talking and study her like terrestrial being, and even then could I notice the sexual tension between Mr. Hensworth and Margaline.

One day Margaline strides into the kitchen in her thin white cotton t-shirt that was drenched in sweat and see through. Mr. Hensworth stopped helping me and Kattie with our project, focusing all his attention on Margaline. Kris, Katties older brother, dropped his bagel to stare at her then startling us blushes and runs out of the room. Kattie rolls her eyes and pretends to continue her project even though I knew Margaline's presence was bothering her.

Margaline always went for a jog or swim and then walked around the house with barely anything on. Kattie and I always teased Kris about his boner for her but he consistently ran away denying it.

I and everyone else in the kitchen couldn't help but notice her majestic curves and godly statuesque body. Mr. Hensworth started up a conversation with Margaline that me and Kattie couldn't keep up with and laughed at things we didn't understand. All a sudden Kattie's pencil breaks next to me, I look over at where she was sitting but she's already storming out of the kitchen and to the back yard.

I scatter after her and watch her throw a tantrum kicking the dirt up in the air. After ten minutes of me soothing and agreeing with Kattie I come up with an idea. The Hensworths had more equipment in their backyard but none that we could touch, and none that we were interested in so we found other ways to entertain ourselves that day and many other days that were like it.

Every day after school we would race to the big yellow bus. Kattie's house was the last stop, only she and I ever got off there and I always secretly wondered if her Dad paid the school to have her get dropped off there. None of the other kids had it easy like Kattie and I included had to walk at least a mile from the bus stop to my house.

Once at Kattie's house she urged me to read books to her, or braid her hair, time and time again we had scavenger hunts in her backyard, which were always my favorite. Some days we ventured so far off into her land that we came across a creek. Following the creek down through the most covered forest we were lead to a river.

"Look lia-bug, your house!" Kattie squealed and jumped up in delight.

Sure enough across the river my neighborhood peeked through the trees. My pale blue house, chipping away at the edges stood out among all the others, but probably only because I was embarrassed by it.

When Kattie first came to my house, she was the first of my friends to ever see that part of me. I knew I could trust her with my secrets so I invited her inside and ever since that day she has never returned but has never mentioned it. It was like it didn't happen and I was in debt to Kattie because of this.

That summer she invited me to go to Florida with her, Kris, and Mr. Hensworth. I assumed it was because she felt bad for what I had to deal with but excitedly I accepted anyways, knowing I would have more fun with Kattie than stuck at home with her.

I remember the first day I met Sebastian Clarke. I remember it more vividly than any memory I've ever had. Honestly meeting that boy changed my whole life. Sure I was only eleven, but it was like time stopped and everything around me froze except him. Love at first sight, I told myself. He was prefect with those voluminous pacific blue eyes that had depth of the ocean. Absolutely breathtaking, were my first thoughts of Sebastian.

The week before the big vacation trip I was on my way to Katties, riding my bike furiously down the street because another incident happened at home and I wanted to be anywhere but. The midday air was scorching, humid, and sticky. Each time I pedaled it felt as if my heart would burst from the adrenalin. I was upset and disordered, not even caring that tears were streaming down my cheeks, and the neighbors were watching me.

I flew down the street and soon picked up speed not even needing to pedal. The breeze felt good against my wet cheeks and somewhere along the way I stopped paying attention, not caring about what happened to me or where I ended up. Closing my eyes and lifting my hands from the bike I envisioned a perfect world where I was normal and care-free.

I was flying, soaring, a part of the air and in the currents of its breeze until a startled boys voice yelled out "Hey you! Look out-"

It was too late, when I opened my eyes, my reality snapped back into place. I did not get to see where the warning came from because all I saw was the world spinning out of control and then the ground hurling up to meet my face at full speed. A surprising jolt of pain shot through my entire face, starting at the tip of my nose running all the way down to the bottom of my toes.

I couldn't even cry out because the pain I felt was too intense that it stole my breath. I was vaguely aware of footsteps tapping furiously against the pavement before the pain ceased to exist and the world faded away.

In my dreams Kattie appeared in a timber wolf cotton dress that matched her eyes, she engulfed me in a hug that smelt of rich smooth chocolate. In my dream replayed a memory that chased the pain away. It was midday; amber leafs descended from the trees leaving them naked and bare. Frigid crisp air rolled in from over the hill tops and the daylight began to dim. Everyone could tell winter was on its way as autumn left us for another year.

Kattie and I were outside savoring the last of the fall leafs. We created enormous mountains out of them, pretending we were in a superior land where everyone lived happily ever after. Hiding away in our secure piles of leafs, the world would fade away only leaving us and in our countless colorful imaginary worlds.

A perfect day with my kit-kat. I wish more than anything, time could have stopped there, and we could spend eternity together but reality started seeping through the seams of my dreams forcing me to return to the real world.

When I awoke my body and especially my face ached everywhere. My eyes flew open, instantly alert to a black room with a tiny line of light spilling in from what looked to be a door. I sat up searching my surroundings but couldn't figure out where I was.

A rag fell off my face and I winced remembering my bike accident. Feeling my swollen face I wanted to cry, lay back down in the darkness and disappear. The blanket under me was soft and comforting, I felt relaxed rubbing my hands over it. Deciding it was time to get up I gathered myself and stood up, walking over to the only door I could make out.

The sounds of shuffling and sweeping floated down the hall as I continued to creep down it in anticipation. I was mere inches away from the kitchen when I heard a new sound, an inspiring exquisite sound. A boy's lullaby on piano, I recognized the piece because my brother used to play. It was "Through the Dark" by Helen Jane Long.

I followed his angelic flow of music around the hallway corner and glance upon him over a haunting black grand piano but a boy he was not; his face clearly showed he's been through more than any one person I have ever met yet he still tried hard to hide it. There was a dwelling yet nostalgic aspect written plain on his piercingly statuesque face. Pulchritudinous in its rarest form, yet his playing pulled me in and mesmerized me.

I dared to reach out to him and let him know I could share his pain. He didn't have to bare it alone, I would help him. He continued to play and strangely I couldn't look away; everything about him laced through my soul and tied me tight.

While I was standing there staring at every feature of his body, he looked up and smiled a confident boyish grin at me. Out of instinct and embarrassment that I was watching him sing, I rushed out of the way and tripped over a stack of books face planting right into the floor.

The boy abandoned his post at the piano and rushed over to help me up.

"I'm fine, it's not like my face can get any worse" I mumbled and almost began to cry again.

He gave me apologetic look and his boyish smiles, making my insecurities vanish and surprisingly said that only thing that would make me feel better because it was in a foreign English accent. "You're such a cluts."

That day he took me back to his house, cleaned me up, and fed me. The whole summer he didn't mention my incident and I was grateful. He was in town with his dad for the summer visiting and would leave in August. Most days we would chase fireflies, count shooting stars, and my favorite sing.

I was ashamed of my family and my face mainly that's why I had to stay away from Kattie. If she saw me like that or even her father saw me like that I was afraid what might happen. Who they might tell, Kattie has been to my house and I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea. It broke my heart that I wasn't able to go to Florida with them that summer but Sebastian Clarke, my rescuer, and next door neighbor helped ease my misery.

Sebastian had a wonderful spirit that inspired me to do great things. In the beginning when I first met Sebastian I was picayune and a very introvert person, throughout the course of the summer I can honestly say he changed that part of me. He had taught me a lot that summer but most notably he taught me something that will forever stay with me as I grow. He taught me how to question myself ultimately making me learn the most problematic of all questions is that the answers are always what hide in plain sight. I've learned that the questions to answers may seem sheltered by the shadow of concealment but truly they are just lying in wait for someone to stumble upon. He taught me to be that person, to stumble upon the answer and not be surprised it was there all along.

Sebastian taught me everything he knew about music; he showed me that through music we could be free to express ourselves. We decided to have a practice session on Sundays where I would sing and he would play. Joining together and performing in the space of his living room that summer, day and night truly saved me.

We had a journal together and that made me feel in cahoots with him, like someone finally understood the cynical life I had. He had to keep up with my horrendous life and the difficulties I had in order that I see that summer through, always questioning my where abouts when I was gone from practice, and giving me grief when it became a habit. His thoughts of the day left me feeling ambiguous and inspired every time I read them. Even when he had to deal with the chaos of my messed up family, it was always a treat to hear his deep rumble chuckle when I said something inappropriate momentarily losing his astute and sagacious wits but never-failing to recover then in a timely gentlemen manner.

He was most respectable person I have even met, even more so than Mr. Hensworth. I appreciate more than I can ever express the time and effort he put into making sure I was happy and smiling. Even when I was facing a debacle his attitude towards the idea of that kept me grounded, the question, "what should we play next," kept me on track.

His morals and philosophy of life were always a joy to listen to; they played as sort of a purpose and direction book for me. The continually asked question, "what should we play next," never left me with any doubt that I was ever doing something wrong and if I was, there is always time for correction. In his eyes there was no such thing as an impasse. Sebastian acted as more than just a friend but also a teacher, seeing the wrong and right in the world and always trying to better it.

Someone once stated, "People won't remember what you did or said, but they will remember how you made them feel." Now in a world full of hostility and judgment, I can proudly say Sebastian made me feel significant and absolute. All his wisdom and kind words, especially for an eleven year old, have helped me flourish in the present because he gave me a chance to. He taught me the meaning of integrity after all and because of that now I have the correct moral compass to lead me in the real world.

Sebastian Clarke was an arctic blue-eyed beauty with chestnut hair the stood up widely in all different directions just like his soul. His full pink lips always held a warm inviting smile, and truly breath-taking with perfect symmetrical white teeth. It always shined bright like a light bulb, illuminating the town with his sunny nature. He came into my life when I needed him most and fixed me.

I cherished all my time with him and in returned he lightened the weight in my heart, making me see all the good in the world instead of just the bad.

Sebastian Clarke was the sunrise to my summer, a beautiful sight that I wish had lasted. His brief visit ended with his dad and he went back to London to live with his mom. As each year passed by summer faded, autumn breezed in, and winter chilled me, my anticipation built always hoping he'd return. After my fourteenth birthday entering into high school my hope ceased to exist. I gave up thinking I would ever see him again. I assumed something happened between him and his dad that summer because he never returned.

Kattie also never talked to me again after that summer. I never understood why she stopped liking me and I was hurt about it for a very long time but I finally decided to let it go. Just like I let the hope of Sebastian returning go. He was a beautiful dream that didn't last long enough but a side of him will forever reside deep within me. I will never forget him and everything I do and carry out will be because of him. He made me who I am today, if only he knew.

The loss of two, gained me one. I had Kris still, so it wasn't a complete loss of the Hensworth family. In some ways he also replaced Sebastian. They were nothing alike but Kris made me smile when I was sad and that was all I could ask for.

When we entered high school Kattie turned into a completely different person, Kris and I became more alike and became best friends. He reminded me of Kattie sometimes and my heart would ache for her, but the chocolate scent lingered and still soothed me.

Kris was supposed to have already graduated but was missing four credits, I often found myself suspecting that he did it to stay with me but then I find it ridiculous and quickly erase it from my head. He had a bold style which is what I loved most about him. He wore his dirty blond hair in a Mohawk, tight black skinny jeans on most days and different shirts with his favorite bands on them. His almond eyes reflected Katties and I felt lucky to still have one of them in my life.

Kris was cocky and arrogant. He could have easily joined the jock group when he entered high school but instead joined the outcasts. He had a strong build, broad shoulders, and a small waist. Girls would fall all over him if he weren't so blunt with everyone but that was Kris. He didn't care what anyone thought or said about him. Most people left him alone since he was Kattie's bother and the richest boy in school.

Now its senior year in Asheville High and I'm finally top dog of the school. I had such high expectations for this year. It was "supposed" to be a breeze.

No more yielding to upperclassmen at assemblies, no more feeling incompetent standing next to one, and certainly no more teachers assuming your age defines you as a person. In my mind and the minds of many other seniors like me, we were assuming thoughts similar to these. "Time to criticize freshman," pretending we never behaved that way, "seem sophistically mellow" even though we are anything but, and at long last "be idolized by all underclassmen."

Once you wrap your mind around that for three years of your life, willingly enduring and abating by this abstract idea, it's difficult to change your views. Being a "senior" is this huge excitement that you build up all through your earlier years of high school and eventually when you get there you have such high expectations of how things are "supposed" to work that when anything goes amiss you find yourself in an awkward situation, much like mine and many others when we were told the ground breaking news.

As a senior you grapple at the concept that you earned your status and certain privileges.

Previous years of seniors were able to go off campus for lunch, have a senior bbq, attend prom, get off school early because they had all their credits, and not have to worry about passing the SBA. I was pumped for all of this "new," well-earned freedom up until I met Mr. Lerner, who busted mine and half of the senior class bubbles. He informed us of the new changes being made this year. Closed campus, no senior bbq, all grades get to go to prom, we cannot leave campus until 2:25 when the last bell rings, and we have to pass our SBA to graduate. For the next week most of the senior class moped around, cursing the new principle and his tyrant ways.

Great, another year of antagonizing people who judge everything you do and know all your business. It's only one more year in this godforsaken place.

Ashville High school only had approximately 900 hundred and something students. It was the second week into the new school year. I walked into my first class English in a foul mood. It would be way more enjoyable if Ms. Welsher didn't always have a stick up her ass. She's one of those teachers who love to pick out the kids who look like there staring off into space which most of the time was me. It's not like I don't enjoy AP English Literature and Language Arts but she does not know how to teach. That's public school for you.

I had all advance placement classes in hope that I will get a full ride to my college of choice. I have my eye set on Trinity Laban's Conservatoire of music and dance, it's in London. Sebastian and I used to joke about it when we were younger but since music and this school is all I have left of him it's where I want to begin my life. Far, far away from what's left of my so-called family.

Brooding into Ms. Welsher's class I was not surprised that yet again I was the first one in class. I stalked up to my usual table in the corner and sat alone. As the room started to fill up with teenagers, I put my head down and waited for class to start. I started to think about what I would do after school when feel a familiar tug on my hair.

Under the hood of my thick mane of hair I smiled to myself and glance up. Standing over me was my best friend, Kris. Today he was wearing tight black skinnies, a dark grey t-shirt with the word Radiohead labeled across and his dark mischief eyes grinned down at me. His Mohawk was perfect and as always he smelt of chocolate and something else. Something different. Perfume?

Kris took his seat next to me and I got a better whiff of it. I made a face at him and he noticed, "What is it?" He asked curiously.

"Cherry blossom perfume? I didn't think it was your type." I recognized the smell because Margaline, the Hensworth caretaker was wearing that every time I saw her.

Kris face turned from confused to crimson fluster face. I squinted my eyes at him, something I did every time I smelt something fishy, and he looked away answering my unasked question. "I accidentally used her body wash. It's the same scent okay, get off my back."

I threw up my hands in defense, "hey, hey. Just looking out for you and your bad-boy reputation. People might think getting soft by sneaking around with a mystery girl." As soon as it was out I felt a sting of jealously but pushed it away, feeling immediately awkward. Kris was my best friend and thinking of him in any other way made me uncomfortable.

"Ha. Ha." He muttered sarcastically.

I was wearing a plaid black and grey fedora hat with plain black button up shirt that had elasticized 3/4 sleeve top and an embellished collar. My skinny jeans were a comfortable stretch material that matched the color grey on my hat. My 4in' wedge, Faux leather buckle boots were ebony with fur lining on the inside. I considered myself a very predictable dresser. I choose what matches and what is comfortable that is all. Sometimes I envy Kris for his bold fashion sense.

"Now now, class settle down," Ms. Welshers voice was always so obnoxious to me, "now I hope everyone read Othello this weekend, cause were having a pop quiz!" You could tell she enjoyed her job, second week of school and were already having a pop quiz.

The whole class moaned with displeasure.

"Fan-fuckin-tablous." I rolled my eyes at Ms. Welsher who gasped but returned to distributing the paper, not wanting to deal with me.

Besides me Kris laughed towards my comment, digging through his bag he looked a little too enthusiastic. "This is an advance placement class, Em."

"Not shit, Sherlock." I nudged him and got out a pencil from my bag. I read Othello in sixth grade and remembered everything so wasn't worried about it. "Did Mr. Hensworth actually read this weekend?"

"Ugh, don't call me that and yes I actually did."

"I'm impressed, Mr. Hensworth." I teased him. Kris was really doing well this year, except in his economics class.

"I live and breathe to please you."

"Okay, all the test are out. Begin now and stop talking." Ms. Welsher announces and stares generally at only us. The class trouble makers, well except for Kattie who strides in with her head held high.

"Ms. Hensworth, nice of you to join us this morning. Looking as lovely as ever I see." Ms. Welsher spews sneeringly in her direction.

I surveyed Kattie for the millionth time, trying and failing at finding the girl I once knew. She was wearing a gorgeous expensive high-low tube dress with a bustier mesh bodice and a pleated retro plaid skirt. A pair of faux suede platform booties with an asymmetrical cut cuff. Finishing with a bang was a short golden chain necklace featuring a soaring dove charm. Matching shimmering teardrop and iridescent rhinestone accents bangles with an antique finish. Kattie, unlike Kris loved to show off her Daddy's money.

Even physically she was gone. Her once tan skin was now creamy pale with a flawless face masked with those same freckles. She still had honey wheat hair but not it was well-groomed and curled in perfect silky waves that hung just above her shoulders. Her body was curvy in all the right places and she was about 5'7, with hard tan brown eyes.

"It's Kat." She snatches the quiz from Ms. Welsher's hands, relentless as always.

There are three types of teenagers. The more dominate types are the kind of teens who lives, breaths, and dreams school. They thrive on their social reputation and school spirit, Kattie falls into that category. Then there are the followers, the try and try to be at the top but never can make it, so they settle for being followers, for instance Kattie's clone and supposable best friend, Kendra. Then there are people like me who come to school to learn something and not waste my time with trivial things. "A waste of space," according to Kattie and her posse.

Kattie takes her seat next to Kendra, not even acknowledging us, and immediately they start to whisper. Ms. Welsher ignores them; sighing and goes back behind her desk, letting us take our test. Kendra has smooth bronze skin, bittersweet grey eyes, long lush model hair, a pierced nose, vintage glasses, killer body, and constant set of manicured fingers. Her and Kattie look like Ying and Yang and obviously belong together.

"Can you believe that stuck-up bitch?" Kris whispers to close to my ear sending flutters down my spine.

"Shh. You shouldn't call your sister that!" Blood rushed to my cheeks and I smile at him. He always knows how to lighten my mood.

"You always call Vivian 'a demon spawn from hell.' What's the difference?" He makes a silly face and I begin to quietly giggle.

"Vivian is!" I protest still silently giggling.

My little outburst makes Kris join in. Our laughs grow louder and Ms. Welsh separates us, seating me closer to Kattie.

Great, thanks Kris, I gaze at him sharply. He shakes his head and continues working on his test. I finish mine within five minutes. I closed my eyes tightly, and slumped down in my chair. The period was going by slower than I could handle and sitting right behind Kattie was making me anxious.

"That's why you were late! You naughty girl." I overheard Kendra whisper to Kattie. They were completely ignoring their test now.

I held my breath and pretended like I wasn't listening but I couldn't help myself. I had nothing else to do.

"Yeah. I gave him the grand tour." She emphasized the "grand" probably inferring something I didn't want to know.

"He's cute then I'm guessing. Kat doesn't just give anyone a tour. Is he a senior?"

"Of course, he is so adorable with his British accent and all. He could practically say anything and I would fall onto his lap." British accent? God Kattie could be so vapid, there is no such thing as a British accent but why would someone with an English accent be here in North Carolina?

"Gross Kat, keep your legs closed for once. You don't even know this guy." I agree with Kendra on this one, god could Kattie be a bigger slut.

"I don't have to know him. He's the hottest thing in this school since me and I'm going to claim him the only way I know how."

"What about Matt?"

Matt had hair that was a light honey shade of brown, that shimmered all by itself. It was loose and wavy. He had topaz green eyes, with strands of hazel. The depth of them was so deep you could get lost and never find your way out. Matt was Asheville's high school quarter back. Every girl in school wanted to be with him, so why Kattie would so easily discard him amuses me.

"Who's Matt?"

Kendra sighs exasperated. "What's his name at least?"

"Uh Clarke was his last name." Kattie tapped her pencil on her chin oblivious to my heart dropping. "Or something… Sam, no. It was-"

She was cut off because I accidentally barked out, "Sebastian."