Thanks to those who've read, reviewed, and been so encouraging. I really appreciate it! -A

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Callie:

A shrill banging sound pierces my dreams, and I bolt upright in the bed, gasping for air. My clothes are soaked through with sweat, and my hair clings to my neck in sweaty clumps. I push it back and try to catch my breath, willing my body to relax. It's just the bell. Just the bell.

Slowly I get out of bed and limp over to the chest of drawers. The idea of putting on a new outfit is exhausting. Every part of my body aches, and I feel the energy drain out of the soles of my feet, leaving my wavering and unsteady. Another day.

What's the worst that could happen if I went back to bed? If I pulled the covers over my head and simply refused to get up? The idea is so tempting that I actually sigh with longing. But in a couple days it will be Sunday. Visiting day. And I owe this to Jude.

I manage to change my underwear and sweatpants, but the shirt is too hard. It hardly matters. Maybe if I smell they'll leave me alone. And judging by the looks I get when I join the other girls in line up, I do smell. It's been days since I last I had a shower.

A fact Anna notices straight away.

"Um," she says, her nose wrinkling as I slide in next to her at the table in the cafeteria, "I don't want to be mean or anything, but you know you kind of smell, right?"

My lips quirk into a tiny smile. "Yeah," I tell her, "It's my new perfume. It's called 'Night Terror.' It's from the Wes Craven line."

There's a quiet thunk as Cruz puts his tray down across from us. Anna's brow furrows, her tiny features puzzling out what I've said.

"Did he do Jessica Simpson's perfume?" she asks, and a snort of laughter escapes me. A quiet chuckle across from me breaks through the clamor of the cafeteria. I look over and see Cruz, his eyes gleaming as he laughs. It makes me smile, and for a second our eyes hold. Then his laughter dies and he looks away. I look down, ashamed, as though I've killed some rare and precious creature. Like I accidentally shot a unicorn.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jude:

The note in my locker is driving me crazy. All it said was "Beach. Noon. -M" I look at the clock for the millionth time. 11:58.

I shut my notebook, drawing a disapproving look from my teacher. Whatever. The page is blank anyway. Two more minutes isn't going to matter.

The minute the bell rings I'm off like a shot, grabbing my backpack and ducking between people. I pretend I don't hear my teacher's voice calling my name.

The sunlight hits my face as I burst through the doors, and for a moment I feel freer, lighter. Then shame washes over me. How long has it been since Callie has seen the sun? Do they even let her go outside?

I shade my eyes and squint at the length of the beach.

There. A little ways away, Brandon, Mariana, and Jesus are sitting on the rocks, talking. I jog over to meet them, ignoring the sand shifting inside my shoes.

"There you are!" Mariana says.

"Yeah, we were going to have to send out a search party," Jesus adds, punching me lightly in the arm.

I ignore them. "What's going on?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know that too. I was going to get started on my homework."

"Well, this is more important." Mariana sits up straight and tosses her hair back, like she always does when she's trying to look grown up. "It's about Moms."

Brandon looks as confused as I feel. "What about them?"

"They're in trouble," Jesus blurts out, earning a dirty look from Mariana. "They need money."

"For lawyers," Mariana adds. "You make it sound like their in debt to the Mafia."

"No, I just—" Jesus argues, but I'm not listening.

"What do you mean, for lawyers?" I ask. "I thought they took Callie's case pro—pro—"

"Bono" Brandon adds, nodding at me. "Yeah, me too."

"Well not anymore. Now it's no bono. And no bueno."

Mariana rolls her eyes at Jesus, then turns serious again.

"I was thinking maybe we could find a way to help." She says.

"Yeah. Like I could get a job at the burger place. They probably need someone now…" Jesus breaks off with a guilty look at me, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat at the thought of Callie in her apron, hair pulled back as she winks at me and slips me extra fries.

"And I could get a job at the mall," she says. "Claire's is always hiring."

"That's a bad idea. You'll spend all the money on jewelry," Jesus points out.

"I will not."

"Will too."

"Will—"

"What about me?" I ask. "What can i do?"

"Well…I was thinking maybe you could do some of our chores. We won't have a lot of time if we're working. We'll each give you two dollars every day so you can save up too."

"That's not enough!" I say, and Mariana looks startled. "I mean, yeah, I'll do chores, but I want to make real money."

"Well…you're kind of young, Jude," Brandon says doubtfully. "You have to be sixteen to work."

"Hey, maybe he could mow lawns like I did that summer," Jesus says.

"Yeah, someone will hire him. Even if it's kind of unethical. But we can't tell Moms. They'd never let us work. Not with your grades," Mariana nods to Jesus, "no offense. And not with your age Jude. Or your piano, B."

Brandon's face brightens. "That could work, though!" he says. "There's always some contest or scholarship going on. I can submit my new piece. It's kind of a long shot, but maybe…" he trails off into thought.

"Do you think it will really work?" I ask quietly. "Will it really help Callie come home?"

Jesus drapes his arm around me. "I don't know, bud," he says. "But isn't it worth a shot?"

That's not even a question, and I give Mariana the best smile I can.

"Thank you."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Callie:

The heat in the classroom is overwhelming. The windows are sealed shut to prevent us from making a break for it, so the only pathetic attempt at relief is the fan moving lazily in the corner. Its breeze barely reaches the front of the room where I'm thirty seconds a wisp of air briefly grazes my cheek, then moves away, leaving it hotter than before.

A wasp buzzes lazily around the chalkboard, and a fly whines overhead. The teacher is droning on about something, and I don't even bother paying attention. I learned it in middle school.

I guess I must be smarter than a fifth grader.

Behind me, I can hear Avery and Brittany giggling and whispering. What is it like here for them? Do they wake up in cold sweats, hands covering their mouths to keep from screaming at their nightmares? Do they keep their backs to the wall, worried about a sharpened tooth brush between their ribs? From the sound of it, they could be anywhere. I close my eyes and listen to the giggles, imagining that we're at Anchor beach, at summer camp, at a movie, anywhere but here…

The bell rings, startling me out of my daydream and I slap my notebook closed as chairs scrape back all over the room. Anna lingers by the door for me, even though she should already be in the food line if she wants a guaranteed lunch.

"Anna!" Mr. Winters says, and we both turn to look at him. "Can I see you for a moment?"

What now? I wonder. I stop to wait for her, but Mr. Winters shoos me out with a smile and closes the door. The sea of students is already passing by on the way to the cafeteria, and I want food so badly I could chew off my own cast.

The minutes drag, and just as I'm about to give up and leave without her, Anna finally comes out, still flushed from the stifling heat of the classroom. Her eyes are bewildered and sad.

"What happened?" I ask, looking through the open door at Mr. Winters, who is calmly erasing the board.

"I got a C-minus on my test," she says, ducking her head as though it's the most shameful thing in the world.

"But…you seemed to know it all. You wrote more than any of us."

Anna shrugs. "They're going to knock me down a level if it happens again. My Nan won't be able to visit."

I place my fingers carefully on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "I'll help you study for the next one, okay? I promise."

Anna smiles, but she still looks upset. We walk down the now empty hallway together, and the thought of food erases test scores from my mind.

xxxxxxxxxxxx