Brief Author's Note: This story was written based off of a roleplay that my friend and I wrote a while back. He's no longer part of this FictionPress account, and therefore, I shall be recreating this and improving upon it. If you're just stumbling upon this now, I highly recommend that you read the new and improved version that I shall be posting at a later time.

Thank you for reading.


"Are you excited?"

"'Excited' isn't exactly the word I was thinking of."

"Come on, Blake, think about it! Florida is a beautiful state!"

"Not really my kind of place though, Mom. You know I like it when it's cold."

Blake's mother sighed, tapping her red fingernails on the steering wheel. "It's so hard to make you happy these days..."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

Guilt immediately laced her voice. "You know I didn't mean it that-"

"Whatever. Just drive."

His mother unhappily turned to face forward in her seat. She put her key in the ignition and turned it, starting the engine. She drove away from the airport, pulling onto the highway, headed toward their new place of residence in a rather small town in Florida called Havana.

It isn't all that big, nor is it fancy... but it's decent, Blake supposed as he stepped into their new apartment a few hours later. It didn't exactly matter, except for his bedroom, which he knew he would probably spend the majority of his time in. He made his way through the house before stumbling across the bedrooms. "Alright," Blake said to his mother, "which bedroom do you want?"

His mother looked into both rooms. "I like this one," she said, pointing into the slightly larger room of the two.

"Good, I liked the other." He gathered his possessions and took them into his new room before he began to unpack what he would need for the night: an air mattress, his bedclothes, a desk lamp, and a small stuffed kitten. After setting up his air mattress he pulled the kitten into his arms. Its fur was black, and it had one white paw and a small pink nose. Blake sighed as he looked down at it. "Edgar," he whispered, squeezing it tighter, "I need to outgrow you."

In his embrace with his toy, his mother showed up at the door. "Getting things unpacked well, dear?" she asked.

"I'm not worried about that yet. I'm about to go to bed," he replied, nuzzling his face into the kitten's back.

"Oh, okay," his mother said. She then saw the cat toy and gave him a funny little smile. "You're still in love with Edgar, huh? You're sixteen years old. Aren't you a little old for that stuffed animal?"

Blake felt his face warm up and he didn't look up from the soft fuzz of the cat's back. "You can never be too old for comfort toys."

She smiled a bit wider. "Okay, if you say so. Good night then, sweety."

"G'night, Mom. Love you."

"I love you too, honey."

He flopped onto his back on the air mattress on the floor, staring up at the ceiling above him, making a pattern on how the desk lamp's light fell on it. Normally at this time he would talk to himself to try and remember what all he would need for the next day, but he was exhausted and decided to skip that. He hugged Edgar to his chest and curled into a bit of a ball, covering himself with his comforter and closing his eyes.

Then his mind decided to whirl, keeping him awake for the majority of the night. His thoughts were not positive ones.

How many times are mom and I going to move before she can settle down in one spot, one city? How long am I going to be able to stand being constantly uprooted? Taken away from friends I've barely been able to socialize with for longer than a few months? Will she eventually start homeschooling me to avoid the trouble? How nice are people in this town? Will they hate me like everyone else has?

Eventually, he managed to slip into a restless, dreamless state.


The next morning the sound of Blake's mother getting ready for work woke him, and he sat up, groaning softly in pain. Note to self: get the actual bed set up and don't sleep on this goddamn air mattress anymore.

Then the smell of bacon being cooked hit his nose and he perked up. It was rare for his mother to cook breakfast anymore. Normally it was one of those "do it yourself" tasks in their routine. He stumbled out of his bedroom towards the scent of delicious frying meat.

His mother was in the kitchen, in her light blue cotton robe; her blonde locks fell down her shoulders in a messy tangle of waves, and when she looked up at Blake, her green eyes shined a bit as she smiled. "Good morning honey. Do you want sausage or biscuits to go with your bacon?"

Blake was simply confused by his mother's behavior now. She hadn't acted this happy since before his father was killed in the war. "Uhm... I'll just take an orange," he answered, grabbing his fruit and going upstairs to his room, peeling the fruit as he walked.

"More for me then!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

It took Blake a while to find his way to his new high school, but eventually he pulled his beat-up white convertible, a gift from his grandfather before he passed away, into the parking lot of Havana Northside High School. Students were hurrying into the building so he knew he must have been cutting it close. He pulled the hood of his black hoodie up over his head as he got out, keeping his eyes focused anywhere but at the people around him as he headed into the building. His sweaty palms made the schedule in the pocket of his hoodie damp, but he didn't care. He just had to find the front office and he would be okay until later.

He was so focused on not running into any students that, instead, he bumped right into one of the staff members: an elderly man who somewhat resembled Santa Claus, with his thick white beard and round belly. "Oh my god I'm so sorry," Blake immediately apologized, his face turning tomato red.

The old man, who had barely stumbled, just chuckled a bit. "It's perfectly fine, young man. And who are you?"

It took Blake a moment to remember his last name, but he finally managed to answer, "Blake White. Blake Aubin White."

"Dr. Woodrick, the school's principal," the old man said with a smile. Then his expression turned stone serious. "You might want to hurry on to homeroom. The bell's ringing in three minutes." And with that, Dr. Woodrick walked on to his office.

Blake sighed to himself and pulled out his sweaty schedule to reread the room number for the thousandth time before hunting for it. It was going to be a very long first day. One of many, he reminded himself. You can do this, Blake. You've done it too many times before.


Oh hey guys :D As you can see my username is DeadInfection, but please call me Autumn.

I know that this first chapter is a little slow, but things will start picking up after a while, I promise.

Right now, I'm working on writing this story with a very dear friend of mine. I will be writing the majority of the story, due to the fact that he can rarely get on Google Docs so we can collaborate, but there are elements of the story that have his input and not mine.

We have the entire plot planned out, so just bear with us. It may take a while between updates.

Wiedersehen für jetzt (German - "goodbye for now"),

~Autumn