A/N: okay, ignore the song that I wrote. I wrote it specifically for this and it sucks. And don't write a review saying how good the song is because I know it's terrible. Write reviews, but don't mention the song unless you think it's terrible as well.

I've been playing the guitar a bit too much, I think. I also think I've been reminiscing a little too much as well. The way I play the guitar now, I'm not as into it as I used to get. My songs are slower and sadder, and eventually I'll get really into it, but then I start strumming really hard and angrily, and Jackson will have to come over and stop me.

"What's going on, Miles?" he said one time. All I did was look at him, with my eyes all watery and my face all red, and he didn't ask me anymore.

We were going back to school, where I'm going to make friends and I'm going to learn and…and…

I really just don't want to face it. Last year, when Jackson and I first arrived and were trying to find our home, I wished that I could have gone to school, just to take my mind off of all the hard things that were hurting me on the inside. Maybe even take a home-economics class or something…anything, really.

But now, school seems so distant to me. I can barely remember it. And when I think of school, I think of Lilly and Oliver, my friends. I think that makes me the saddest of all. Jackson and I have been on the run twice, where we've changed our homeless homes to different places, each one much farther away from the last. If I make friends and Jackson and I have to run again, then I'll lose my friends…just like I lost Lilly and Oliver.

Then there's the matter of all the rumors that go around. When I think of that, I think of Ashley and Amber, how they were always making fun of my clothes. My clothes are really something to make fun of now, with my baggy boy jeans and my baggy sweatshirts and my solid-colored shirts.

I looked like a hobo…mostly.

Well, when I think about it, I am like a hobo. Except hobos beg on the streets for money and do nothing but annoy you, while me and my brother decided to be smart, get a job, buy a guitar, and make money. We also started a bank account.

This is the type of stuff they don't teach in school: life. There is no class called life. If there was, I would get an A, because I'm an expert at life. Life's not perfect, and it never gives you what you want. If you want something, work hard at it, and if you're lucky, maybe you'll get it.

Most likely you won't.

So, I continue to strum my guitar, sing out my thoughts towards the world, and make music.

"It's raining and I don't care

I'm crying and I don't dare

Tell you anything because

You just wouldn't get it

Don't ask me anything

Don't ask me about everything

Ignore me and I'll be fine

Ignore me and you won't be mine

"You talk so quietly

I'm sobbing so heavily

And you don't care

You just stare

You whisper worriedly

Not at all comforting

Why don't you come and help me

Why don't you just leave me be

"My hair is wet and my eyes are red

Oooh hoo

My life is done and I feel dead

Oooh hoo
My toes are numb and life is cold

Oooh hoo

Why's everything covered in mold

"You don't care that I need you

You don't care but I do

You went off and…and…AND MARRIED HER!"

I yelled out and started crying once more. Jackson was working and I didn't feel like entertaining today. We started school tomorrow, and I was scared…really scared.

I put my guitar in its case and hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, shaking uncontrollably.

I don't get it. Why would he marry such a…such a…such a bitch? He would come home from work some days to find me covered in bruises. He would ask, and I would lie…she always told me that my death was coming if I ever told anyone. But why couldn't my dad see the truth? He always used to tell me that "The truth is in the eyes. Look closely, and you can see into someone's soul."

Why couldn't he look into my damaged, banged-up soul? Why couldn't he help me at all?

Whenever I look back, I realize how stupid Jackson and I had been. We should have just turned her into the authorities and have stayed with the cops until she had been arrested and thrown into an asylum, tied up in a straight jacket, and then we would have felt safe. We would have felt good at last. But no one gets it at all…I'm never safe.

I heard a voice and I quickly wiped away my tears. It couldn't be my brother, because my brother never brings someone over (where would he bring someone anyways?) and he never talks to himself. So, I quietly maneuvered myself to the edge of the bridge, where two people were walking and talking…both of them in American accents…sounding familiar.

"I don't think we're going to find her, Jake," said the adult.

"But we have to!" said the teenager. He had recognizable blonde hair, and the hot look of a boy that I hadn't seen in a while.

"Why do we have to?" asked the adult.

"Because, she was amazing," said the teenager. He looked away from the man and out towards where they were walking, which I had a feeling wasn't anywhere in particular. "You don't understand. She…she understood me. I swear, every time she looked into my eyes, I felt like pouring my soul out to her. She was beautiful, and truthful and…and down to earth. And now…I'm never going to see her again."

The teenager was looking at the ground and I recognized him at last. Jake Ryan! What was he doing in England?

The adult stopped walking and stopped Jake. He turned Jake around and looked him in the eye, putting one hand on a shoulder of Jake's. "Look, Jake. There are a lot of things I want to tell you, but none of which are true. So, I'm going to tell you the truth. We're most likely not going to be able to find her. We've been searching for months. She's most likely dead."

Jake shoved the man's hand off of his shoulder. "Don't you dare say that. Miley is not dead. She can't be dead. I know she's not dead, because she's alive. And if you give up, then fine. I'll go and find her."

"Jake," said the man. "I know you must love this girl, but it's going to be really hard to find her. I know you've quit your movies until we find her, but…you're going to need to go to school while we search for her."

I stopped listening and ducked down. He was searching for me…for me! Lilly and Oliver didn't search for me, my own father didn't search for me, no one did…except for Jake. And he's really looking for me!

I considered coming out of the shadows and hugging him, saying that I love him and always will and that I wish we hadn't broken up, but thought against it. He's going to be off at some private boarding school most likely by tomorrow, and I'll be off at a public school. He'll never find me. And I'll probably never see him again.

But I've always been better off on my own. I never begged for street money. I never couldn't find a way of getting food. I've always been smart about what I do.

"Miles? What are you doing?"

The voice made me jump, and I soon realized that it was Jackson.

"Jackson!" I said.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. No matter how much he's changed, you'll still notice a bit of his old, sarcastic self. "I've got a surprise for you."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I've been promoted! I'm now going to be getting two more pounds an hour!"

I jumped up and hugged him. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeah," said Jackson. "So, I decided to take us to the mall tonight. I got my paycheck this week and we can afford to go and buy first-day-of-school outfits."

I smiled and hugged him even tighter. "I love you, Jackson."

"Love you too, Miles."

So, the rest of the night was spent at the mall, buying outfits and school supplies for ourselves. I ended up buying a pair of skinny jeans, a white baby-doll shirt, and a blue lace camisole to go underneath. I felt that this outfit would be great for school. I didn't ask for Jackson to buy me shoes because I knew we needed to save our money that we had left for food.

And we were really careful about our money. The clothes that we got were on sale, and I even got a couple of bras for myself (I only have two at the moment). With that done, Jackson and I returned to the bridge, attempted to move the rocks…and actually succeeded in finding a hole.

"What's in there?" I asked as Jackson looked through it.

"There's a bunch of cobwebs," he said. I shivered: even though I've lived by myself for a year, spiders still scare me. "But it's a cave, and there's some hay in it. It would make for some comfortable sleeping."

"When can we move in?"

"After we finish our homework tomorrow, we'll move some more rocks around and, maybe, find a way in."

I nodded. Keeping my new clothes in the bag it had come in, I rolled my sweatshirt into a ball, laid my head down, and fell into a terrible nights sleep, knowing that what lies ahead tomorrow, is either good or bad.

Jackson and I woke up early the next morning, got dressed, and walked to school after having an apple for breakfast.

I was to be entering what was called Year 9. From my understanding, it's equivalent to ninth grade. I'm going to be repeating it because I never finished it…and I need to remember some things.

"Where are your parents?" were the first words out of our counselors mouth that morning.

"They have to work a lot," said Jackson. We had been going over this story with each other for a while, quizzing each other and pretending that we actually lived in a house, not on the streets. "That's why we moved here. We've been moved around a lot due to their work. If only their work paid better."

The counselor nodded and told us to take a seat, which we did willingly. "I understand that you didn't put a phone number down on your applications. Why not?"

"Our parents don't like phones," said Jackson. We had been over this as well. "They believe that any type of phone is the cause of brain cancer and they refuse to use any phone whatsoever."

The counselor nodded once again. "Well, in that case, here are your schedules." She handed us two different schedules, and then she handed us locks for our lockers, and our locker number was on our schedule. "I've made it so that your lockers are next to each other. I understand that when one moves a lot, they might have trouble making friends, so I've put you close to each other to ensure that you two are not alone. Your classes were also made so that you can walk with each other to each class, but eventually leave to head off to different classrooms."

There was a knock on the door.

"Will you please wait on the bench outside of the office?" said the counselor.

"Yes," said a voice.

"Sorry about that," said the counselor. "You two aren't the only new students today. Here, since you arrived early, I'll let you leave now and look around the school, give yourselves a tour."

We nodded, stood up, and left but not before thanking her. On our way out, I took a quick glance at the new student who was waiting on the bench outside of the office.

Oh, my God.

It couldn't be.

"Jackson?" said Jake. I was standing on Jackson's other side, farthest away from Jake, who, for some reason, was sitting on the bench outside the counselors office.

"Jake?" said Jackson in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, what are you doing here?" asked Jake. "You and Miley…you've been gone for a year!"

"We had to go," said Jackson defensively and slowly at the same time.

"Where is Miley?" asked Jake desperately. I walked out from behind Jackson and looked at Jake. "Miley!"

He stood up and hugged me. I didn't know what to do. The only person who has hugged me in the past year was Jackson, and getting hugged by a past boyfriend always feels a bit awkward. But, for some reason, getting hugged by Jake felt…I don't know…different? It was like someone cared for me other than Jackson.

"Where have you guys been?" asked Jake. "No one's seen you in a year!"

"No one's looked for us either," I said.

"I have!" said Jake. "I've had people in twelve different countries looking for you two! And you've been in England this whole time?"

"Look, Jake, you can't tell anyone you saw us," said Jackson.

"Why not?" asked Jake. "Everyone's been so worried!"

"Yeah, that's why my dad was the first one looking for us, right?" I said. Jake looked at me and I knew that he could hear the hurt in my voice.

"What happened a year ago?" he asked softly.

"Jake Ryan, will you please come in," said the counselor's voice.

"One second," said Jake. He turned back to us.

"Don't call anyone and tell them that you've seen us," said Jackson. "We'll…we'll talk to you during lunch or something."

Jake nodded and walked into the office.

Now, I was more nervous than before.