Oh, gosh people…it's here. This is possibly going to be the biggest hurdle I will have to jump writing-wise. This is Drop the World, the first half of part 1 in Eli's point of view. This is the end of EClare.

This is going to be so challenging to write. But I hope you all enjoy it!

This was it.

I had been waiting for this letter for weeks; since I had passed Stalker Angel off to Miss Dawes. And there it was…in my hands just begging to be opened.

I sighed, letting my mind go over how great it had felt just to send off my own original story. Whether this letter rejected Stalker Angel, crushing me brutally, or informed me that I was the winner I still tried and that much was worth rejoicing. But it would be pretty freaking great if I won.

After all, if I was the winner of the contest then I could give Clare her present.

Clare had proofread the final copy after our driving lesson, and had given me the okay to submit. So I had gone to Miss Dawes alone so that I could make one, tiny alteration so that the story really was perfect before it was submitted. I added Clare's name to the author line on the application I had to send in with the actual story, and Clare was going to be so excited when she saw it. The story was the labor of our love, and by adding her name it was like the biggest declaration of my affection I could think of.

I finally turned the letter over and stuck my thumb in the crease to break the seal. Here went nothing…

I ripped the envelope into shreds to get the actual content, and, once the thick piece of paper was finally free I started to scan.

But the third line I was already jumping up and down, the euphoria grabbing hold of me and propelling me to a high that I had never felt before. They had picked mine and Clare's story! The newest edition of Gothic Tales, out the next day, was to feature the brilliantly written Stalker Angel!

I had to share the good news with someone, preferably Clare, but I decided the unveiling of our first collaborative piece would have to be more dramatic than a phone call. I had to present Clare with the physical evidence that we were the world's most perfect team of writers ever. Clare and I were a dream team. She was going to love me forever because of this.

Yes, my dramatic flair would definitely add to Clare's excitement when she found out the good news. But I still needed to share my happiness with someone.

I dialed a familiar number, and waited as it rung a few times. "You're a go for Adam."

"Adam, I told you about Stalker Angel, right? How I submitted it for publication in Gothic Tales…guess what!"

"Whoa, dude, take it easy. I can practically hear your energy vibrating through the phone."

"Come one; just guess!"

"Due to the fact that you sound like you're going to explode any second I'm going to guess that they picked your story."

"When did you get so smart?" I answered, my sarcasm marred by the fact that I was just so damn ecstatic. "And it's not just my story…Clare is my co-author."

"Well, congrats, you two. When is it out? I can't wait to read the finished product."

"Tomorrow…I'm going to stop by the store before school and get a few copies. I'll pick one up for you," I promised him.

"Great, thanks man; that's really cool. I'd love to stick around and chat, but Drew is beating me at Halo right now, and I cannot let that happen."

"Go, kill, win…I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

"Thanks, Eli! And, again, congratulations! I have such talented friends. Drew, I'm going to kick your…," and with that the line went dead; I chuckled to myself. That had been anticlimactic. Here was my first time being a published author, and the first person I had told, my best friend no less, had rushed me off the phone to play video games.

Whatever, I wouldn't be happy or settled until I called Clare. I didn't have to tell her the news yet, but I just wanted to hear her voice. It had a profound calming effect. Just knowing that Clare's voice was seconds away was alluring…I dialed the number and held my breath until she answered.

"This is Clare," she sounded distracted, but I could change that.

"Is that who I called? Crap, must be a wrong number. I was trying to call Alli Bhandari…pretty, popular…feisty. Everything I like in a girl."

The words burned on their way out- as if I would ever be interested in Alli over Clare…or interested in Alli at all- but it was a joke. At least I thought it was funny.

"Real mature, Eli. Is there a reason you called? I'm doing homework."

She sounded…angry. I couldn't imagine what she had to be angry about, but I mentally went over the last few days. Clare had been pretty focused on some math test, but we had still spent some blissful time together. At least I had thought it was blissful. Maybe she had a different opinion. We were free of Fitz and stronger than ever. Right? I couldn't be the reason she sounded so miffed, could I?

"I'm not allowed to just call to talk to my beautiful girlfriend?"

"Not when she's busy doing homework, you're not."

"Is everything okay, Clare? Did I do something wrong?" I tried to keep the panicked edge out of my voice and failed miserably.

"No, of course you haven't. I was just in the middle of writing a paper, and you know I don't like to be interrupted. Besides, I have tons of other homework to do as well."

The tightness in my chest eased up just slightly. I still couldn't fully relax, though- not when Clare sounded so unhappy. After all, her happiness was my happiness. "Want me to come over and help. I am your English partner…completely plausible excuse."

"I'll just have you edit it tomorrow or something. I really need to concentrate."

"I bet I could stimulate your brain a little, if you know what I mean. Just for an hour or so…I miss you."

"No, means no, Eli," she snapped and my heart dropped into the soles of my feet. Why did I never have the intelligence to not push things too far? "We were just together yesterday; we don't need to spend every waking moment together."

"Can you blame me for wanting to spend a lot of time with you?" I asked feebly, feeling wretched for pushing her over the edge. "But I'm sorry I was pestering you. Have fun doing homework. Try not to burn yourself out and you should get to bed at a decent hour tonight."

I sounded pouty, pathetic, but I couldn't help it.

"God, Eli, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just stressed. I love you, okay? I'll see you tomorrow morning, and I promise to get a lot of sleep…that should improve my mood, huh?"

I laughed, bouncing right back. My mood was in direct correlation with Clare's. "One can only hope. I love you, too. Sweet dreams, Clare. And by sweet dreams, I mean you should dream of me."

She chuckled a little, but it sounded just a tad forced. Or I could have been paranoid. "Sure thing. I'll give my subconscious the memo that you should star in every single one of my dreams. Now I really have to go. Bye, Eli; see you tomorrow morning."

I was about to say goodbye to her when the line went dead. My paranoia sparked again, making my breath hitch in my throat. Clare loved me…nothing was wrong…she was just stressed…she was busy with all her homework. There was nothing to worry about.

No, no…there was nothing wrong with us at all.

XXX

My night had been restless, to put it lightly. I fluxed between intense excitement about Stalker Angel and painful stabbings of worry about Clare's odd mood. So, instead of giving my mind a much needed and beyond deserved rest, I had spent the night rememorizing every line and crack in my celling.

And, normally, such a horrid night would have a direct effect on my day, but when I got out of bed I only had good things to look forward to. I had to go to the book store a few blocks away that I knew for a fact sold the Gothic Tales magazine, and then, more exciting than seeing mine and Clare's story in print, I would get to show Clare our winning creation. It would be a wonderful day only full of excitement.

Besides, once Clare saw our names together in ink I'm sure all feelings of stress from the night before would be a distant memory. She could not deny the romance of my gesture.

I dressed in a hurry, informed my mom that I would be sure to buy her a copy, too, and immediately ran off on foot. I had an hour and fifteen minutes before school started- enough to buy Stalker Angel, bring my parents back their copy, and pick up Morty so we could go to Degrassi and I could surprise Clare.

Since I was jogging it didn't take me long to reach the store, and when I did, I saw Gothic Tales on full display in the front window. It looked better than I could ever imagine- the cover of the magazine was a cartoon illustration of one of the final scenes of Stalker Angel…it was breathtaking and surreal…a dream come true, really. "There it is," I muttered to myself, afraid that if I closed my eyes the whole situation would vanish- taking my elation and excitement with it.

But even after I blinked it was still there so, giddy as ever, I rushed into the store and grabbed the top copy off the display; immediately flipping through it to find Stalker Angel. All my hard work, all of Clare's brilliance…it was all in black and white. It was a concrete tribute to the fact that Clare and I were the perfect team. By myself I was a good writer, but coupled with Clare we were unstoppable.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to create more…seeing my name there…seeing my work on display…it was intoxicating. Clare and I could work together on something bigger- a novel, perhaps? - and get it published. Our names would always be linked together. It would be perfect.

I grabbed all the copies off the display, then. I need them- one for Adam, one for my parents, one for Clare, a few for me. "I'll take all of them," I told the employee, and dug in my pocket for a lump of cash that was sure to cover it all. The man nodded at me, and I took off again; all my copies of Stalker Angel in hand.

"Mom," I called, a little out of breath from running home, but I was too exhilarated to care.

"Where is it, where is it? I can't wait to read it!" my mom squealed, meeting me in the foyer and planting a big kiss on my forehead before she snatched one of the copies out of my hand.

"Page ten," I informed her proudly. "I'm going to get to school…when you're done, let me know what you think of it, Mom."

"I'm sure I'll love it. Have a good day, sweet pea!"

I shoved the rest of my copies, all except one, into my backpack once I was in Morty. I could barely focus on driving as hyped up as I was. My head just kept running through all the ways Clare could react. Maybe she would laugh in excitement, or throw her arms around me in a huge hug to celebrate our success. Maybe she would even cry tears of joy! Whatever she did, though, I was sure she would be as happy about the publication of our first story…I knew I was.

I parked Morty, grabbed my backpack, and opened the copy of Gothic Tales to Stalker Angel. As I was getting out of the car I saw Clare walking toward the front of the school…perfect timing. Waiting to surprise her, I snuck up from behind, making sure she wasn't paying any attention, and then- WHAM- I revealed our masterpiece by slyly slipping the magazine in front of her face.

Clare jumped a little, falling back into me in surprise before she comprehended what was in front of her nose. "Feast your eyes on this," I told her, appreciating the intimacy of our position. Every inch of Clare was pressed against me, and I was momentarily distracted by the smell of her shampoo.

But, being Clare, she quickly extracted herself from my embrace. There was a huge smile on her face, and she looked proud as could be. "They picked your story? Eli…," she started, but it was clear by the way she called it 'my' story that she had yet to see the best part.

I cut her off, directing her attention to the very best part of all. "Look closer- our first published collaboration," I pointed to our names twined together in the permanent ink.

"But it's your story," Clare seemed confused, rather than ecstatic as I thought she should have been. "You wrote it."

"With your help, editor extraordinaire," I explained, realizing that Clare was just being modest. She thought she didn't deserve partial credit for our creation. She was so perfect. "We are a team."

"You didn't have to do that," Clare chuckled, blushing lightly. She almost looked uncomfortable, but I knew that couldn't be so. Not when we were so close to our dreams.

"No, I wanted to; it's the beginning of our dreams coming true," I assured her. Clare wasn't as excited as I had expected her to be, but her mood did not affect the bliss that that I was still feeling. Besides, Clare would get more excited when she heard my new idea. There was no way she wouldn't love it.

"Well thanks, I guess," she smiled warmly at me, and I thought it was the perfect time to reveal my plans for our future.

"My dark instincts, coupled with your flair for romance…we are unstoppable." I pulled Clare under my arm so I would be close to her when I told her what I wanted…what the ideal Spring Break would be. "I say we lock ourselves in a room and commence work on our first novel together! Just you, and me," I told her tenderly, locking eyes with her.

But before Clare had a chance to tell me what she thought of my idea, Alli ran up to ruin our moment. "Hey," she greeted Clare as she swiftly walked past.

Clare quickly stepped out from under the circle of my arm, putting more distance than necessary between us…that was weird. "Alli!" Clare sounded relived…even weirder. "Hey, uh, we have an appointment to discuss dress options for the Spring Fling."

Wait, Clare was hanging out with Alli later to go shopping? I thought she would want to celebrate with me. And Clare had never mentioned that she wanted to go to the dace…it wasn't like the last dance we went to had been a disaster, or anything. Besides…why did she seem more excited about this dance than the fact that she was a published author? I didn't understand; something was missing, something was not right.

"You've just been published, isn't a high school dance a little trivial?" I asked, trying to bring up my confusion in a joking matter.

But Clare didn't seem to understand that I was trying to kid around with her. She acted like I was attacking her, or something, because she immediately jumped down my throat. "Not really," her voice contained an angry edge. "Dances are fun."

Yes, almost getting stabbed at Vegas Night had been the highlight of my life. Where was this coming from? I decided to keep it light, though. Maybe if I joked more Clare would relax. "Balloons and banal top forty?" I laughed. It was almost absurd to think that Clare would rather spend a night among lame decorations, dancing to shitty music, than celebrating our hard work together. At least, I would rather view it as a joke than take the desire to be something serious.

"If you're not interested, don't come," Clare snapped as she turned on her heel to walk away from me, and my jaw went slack in surprise. Why was she so…pissed at me? What had I done wrong?

At first, as I walked to my locker, I tried to write Clare's moodiness off as PMS, but I was quickly able to discredit that idea. She wasn't one to be snappy due to hormones. If anything, Clare only became more reserved, yet emotional. She was much more likely to cry then yell.

So, if it wasn't just petty hormones…something was really wrong. The question was, was it something wrong with her, something I had done wrong, or, the worst scenario of all, was there something wrong with us? What if Clare's moodiness was an indication that there wouldn't be an 'us' much longer?

I would not be able to handle that; I would surely lose my mind, not to mention my faith in humanity, if the one good thing in my life left me. Clare wouldn't do that to me- we were in love! And if there was a problem with our relationship Clare would talk to me about it. That's how we had solved every problem that we had encountered before, right?

I couldn't lose Clare…I wouldn't. I had to come up with a plan to show her that we were still meant for each other. We needed to spend some time away from all the stress and worry- Clare and I needed some us time. We could rekindle the best parts of our relationship…take it back to where we were before Fitz showed up and ruined everything.

The thought made me feel just slightly better, but I still felt panicky- my heart was racing at an unhealthy speed. I felt sweaty and anxious…I needed a second opinion. Unfortunately, the person I would normally go to for help or advice was the person causing my distress.

I had to find Adam. He would know what to do. He always knew what to do when it came to problems between Clare and me. We owed him our relationship several times over.

I raced toward the computer room- knowing that Adam's first class was Media Immersions. My timing was spot on for the second time that morning, and I caught Adam just before he was about to follow the heard of students into the classroom. I lunged forward, grabbing his arm with more force than necessary, and pulled him slightly to the side.

When Adam saw it was me, he gave me a look that made me feel kind of nuts; like I was unstable. But, then again, I was feeling pretty off center. "What are you doing? I have class," he protested.

"I'm driving myself insane," I informed him, the panicked edge in my voice only adding to the urgency of the situation. "It's Clare. I tried to joke around with her this morning, like always, but she was all…prickly!" The word had just come to me while I had been searching for the right way to describe Clare's behavior just a few, long minutes ago, but it summed up the vibe she had been giving off perfectly.

"You're just being paranoid," Adam assured me unhelpfully. That was it; that was all that I got? He was usually so good at talking me away from the edge of the cliff in my head, but his words did nothing to sooth the frantic worry consuming my thoughts.

"Every time she disagrees with me, I panic," I continued, refusing to let Adam off the hook that easily. I was coming apart at the seams! I needed something more than the obvious fact that I was paranoid…my paranoia didn't change the fact that Clare was acting differently. "I need to find a way to fix this- a plan."

"Your plans usually make things more complicated," Adam pointed out. "Just relax for now."

Why had he picked this day to be completely unhelpful? I couldn't 'just relax'; that was the problem! I did need a plan…a simple plan, so it wouldn't complicate matters any more than then they already were. Mostly I just needed something to focus on other than the fact that Clare might take away the only sanity I had left in my life. I needed her!

"I can't," I told Adam, all my thoughts racing through my head a mile a minute. "I have to do something that's just for us; our thing." Clare obviously needed that reminder that we were perfect.

Before Adam could say something else that would, undoubtedly, be a heap of crap, Miss Oh cut into our conversation. "In or out, Adam- the latter will earn you a detention.

"I'll be right in, Miss," Adam promised before turning back to me. "Everything's going to be okay," he told me, but he couldn't know that. I wish he could, then his comment would make me feel better, but it was just an empty assurance. Nothing was ever okay in my life…except for Clare. What had I done to make her realize that I never deserved her in the first place? "Just, whatever you do," Adam continued, reading the intense worry plastered on my face, "take it easy."

Real sound advice, Adam. He knew that was easier said than done for me.

Since I was already late, I decided it would be beneficial to my mental health if I skipped History. I practically ran to Morty, locked the doors behind me and tried to calm myself with some deep breaths.

Okay, so, Clare was upset with me…this wasn't something new. I had dealt with Clare's anger before- especially directed at me. So why was I so anxious about this specific time? Why did I feel like there was some kind of ominous counterpart to Clare's annoyance?

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat…I really shouldn't be allowed to get myself so worked up. I hadn't even tried to talk to Clare about why she was so upset, I had just jumped to the conclusion that it was doomsday. Maybe Clare was just having a bad week, maybe I had forgotten an important date…maybe it had nothing to do with Clare at all. Maybe I was the one who was on edge.

I pulled out my phone to check the time; I wanted to be sure I didn't miss English and an opportunity to talk to Clare, when I happened to notice the date off-hand. April 17…was it really that close? Was that the reason for my heightened anxiety? As if to prove myself right, my breath started to climb toward hyperventilation. Why was I so freaked out? I had gotten over Julia; I had found my closure and my happy ending in Clare.

But, then again, maybe that's why I was so freaked out. I hadn't even realized that the date had been close- I was marginally upset with myself that I had completely forgotten the anniversary of Julia's death. The object had been to move on, but not to abandon. I was a horrible person.

As the realization dawned on me I wanted nothing more than to find Clare, apologize for whatever I had done wrong and hold her in my arms. She had promised she would never leave me…I wanted, no, I needed, to hear her say it again.

Thinking about Julia…well there had already been so much loss in my life. I needed to know I wouldn't have to endure anymore. I hopped out of Morty and walked swiftly back into Degrassi. There were still a few minutes until the first period was over, so I decided to grab my materials for English, and then wait outside Clare's first class.

It wasn't a long wait, but I sunk to the ground just beside the door and fiddled with my hands. I was such a mess…but why? I felt like my head was about to explode, and I didn't know how to stop it. I had always had my moments, but I had never felt so completely and utterly out of control of myself. I felt like a puppet-someone else was pulling my strings, making me dance, and they were laughing every time I fell over myself, hurting the people I loved in the process.

The bell rang, and I tried to swallow the shallow gasps for air; I managed to take one deep breath before standing and scanning the student's face as the left the classroom. Where was Clare?

Finally, I saw her curly mass of hair in the crowd. "Clare!" I called, and she immediately turned to the sound of her name. I pushed past the few students in my way to get to her, and then I grabbed her face and firmly planted my lips over hers in a panicked desperation.

Clare seemed to be too shocked to do anything for a moment, and then she gently, but firmly pushed me away. "Eli, I don't want to get in trouble," she chastised me, flushing.

"Sorry, so sorry…I'm sorry, okay. For the public display of affection, for whatever I did this morning…I love you, Clare. I love you more than anyone in my life, and I need you, and that scares me. But I just can't take it when you're mad at me. I can't, so please just tell me what I did wrong, and I'll fix it."

By the time I finished my desperate pleas, we were standing outside Miss Dawes' classroom. Clare met my intense gaze with an unreadable expression. The only adjective that came to my mind was guarded, and that terrified me.

"Oh, Eli…you didn't…I don't…I'm just stressed, and I'm sorry I took it out on you. Try not to freak yourself out so much. I don't want you to snap under all the pressure that you put on yourself about making this relationship perfect. It's not perfect, but I do love you. Just breathe…"

So, I had been blowing things out of proportion in my head; shocker. I freaked out way too often. It was a miracle that Clare hadn't gotten scared of me yet…or fed up and decided to walk away. I had so much to be thankful for…

"Clare…"

"Yes, Eli?"

"Thank you…for being you."

She smiled at me, letting the guard in her eyes down, and the sight was breathtaking. I could stare at her beauty for the rest of forever and not get tired of it.

"That's what I'm here for," she joked, grabbing my hand to give it a light squeeze before walking into the classroom. I followed behind, relishing the fact that her fingers were still curved perfectly between mine, and saw Adam already in his seat. I flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Someone's happy," he eyed me suspiciously. "Do you suffer from mood swings, or something?"

"You're funny," I mocked back scathingly before reaching into my backpack for one of my many copies of Gothic Tales. "As requested," I said, offering up the magazine.

Adam took it out of my hands immediately and paged through it until he found my story. "There it is…the happy couple's names in print," Adam chirped proudly, but Clare shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. I wondered why my supposed-to-be romantic gesture had elicited such a strange reaction from her.

"Just shut up and read it," I commanded, and Adam saluted me before diving in.

"Eli Goldsworthy," Miss Dawes called loudly as she breezed into the room with her usual cup of coffee. "Have you heard from the Gothic Tales contest, yet?"

"Actually, yes, ma'am, I have," I smirked proudly, fishing out another copy of my story from my backpack. "Take a gander at page ten," I gloated, tossing the magazine up to my favorite teacher.

She flipped to the page and gasped. "This is wonderful; simply exquisite, Mr. Goldsworthy. I will read the final product as soon as I have spare time. Now, let's talk about Chaucer and his Tales of Canterbury, shall we?"

The class seemed to fly by, and after the bell rang Adam turned to me- an amusing mixture of awe and disgust on his face. "That was the single, most amazing, gruesome, well-written and horrifying story I have every read. I don't know whether to be freaked out that you were capable of writing something like that, or insanely proud that you were capable of writing something like that…"

"You're allowed to feel a little bit of both," I chuckled at him fondly.

"Good…because that was really gross, man, but it was powerful. I like that it made me feel so strongly…even if it was nasty."

I ruffled his hair and Clare laughed, trailing slightly behind us. "Yeah, imagine having someone tell you they wrote that disturbing thing about you…talk about extra chills."

I knew Clare was just joking, keeping things light, but it hurt that she seemed so repulsed by the idea that I had dedicated my first real story to her. Was that really such an issue? They were both laughing at my expense, and I huffed, frustrated. "I'll see you two at lunch."

"Aw, Eli, come on," Clare called after me. "I didn't mean it like that." I kept walking, deciding it would be best to not say anything, but Clare ran after me, planting herself in front of me so I wouldn't be able to get away. "Eli, I'm sorry…I love your story."

"Then why are you so bothered by the fact that I've dedicated it to you…in more ways than just verbally? Why does that make you so stressed?"

"It's just…it's a murder plot! That you said was all about me…yeah, it wasn't one of your most romantic gestures, but I understood where you were coming from. I should have just told me that I was a little freaked."

"Yeah," I agreed, even more hurt, "you should have. But it's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"We're always yelling at each other these days," she pointed out sadly, hanging her head.

I sighed, all the anger instantly deflating from my body. "Clare, you know that I didn't mean the story was about you in a way that I would murder you, right? I meant that I love you enough to do whatever it takes to keep you…like Malcolm, but with reservations."

"Yeah, eventually I came to that conclusion, but, honestly, I can never be sure with you." She smiled to show she was joking, but I saw a bit of sincerity in her eyes, and, just as quickly as she had let it down, she put the guard back up. We had never been this careful around each other before.

"Sorry," I mumbled, not knowing what else I could say. "You should get to class, and so should I. I'll see you at lunch, Edwards."

"Okay," she agreed, backing away slowly. Why were we always walking on eggshells these days? Was it because of my behavior? Did Clare and Adam both think I was losing it?

My remaining morning classes past by slowly and painfully. I was so worried about everything with Clare that I missed every single lecture. Instead of notes I found myself doodling morbid pictures of black, mangled hearts all over the margins of my notebooks. Something had to give…and soon.

Right before lunch some student I didn't know called out my name, catching me in the hall on my way to my locker. "You're Eli Goldsworthy, right?"

"Yes…and you are?"

"Miss Dawes wanted me to find you. She wants to see you." And with that the girl was gone, racing back down the hall in the opposite direction. I rolled my eyes, stashed my books in my locker, and then made my way to Dawes' room.

I knocked lightly on the door frame when I saw that she was intently studying something on her desk. "Miss Dawes, you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, come on in," she gestured at me excitedly. All her energy just made me feel uncomfortable. I felt angry and frustrated and just plain sad. Her bright mood only made my gloominess seem worse. "This is really something, Eli," she boasted proudly, and as I approached her desk, I saw the copy of Stalker Angel open to the ending. I gave her a small, grateful smile. "Your writing is beautiful…it's macabre." My smile grew bigger; finally someone who understood the majesty of what I had written, macabre was the perfect word. Creepy and disturbing were less pleasing to me as the author, but I had understood why people felt that way. "But I-I wonder if there's anything you want to talk about…"

My smile disappeared instantly due to my confusion. "W-What do you mean?"

"Well," Miss Dawes started, smiling sadly at me. She looked genuinely concerned, but I had no idea why. "Your protagonist murders his fiancé; your theme is spending eternity with the one you love…it could be read as a- as a cry for help."

She seemed to struggle with her words, obviously not wanting to offend me. And here I had thought she was the first one to fully appreciate the story…she just thought I was going insane. Well, she would have to join the club. There was a long line of people just as concerned as she was, but I was determined to prove that I was in my right mind. I was. If there was something wrong with me I would think I'd be able to tell.

"It's fiction," I spoke slowly, trying to keep clam. I knew Dawes was just concerned. She was legitimately worried. I didn't have any right to be mad at her.

'I know," she assured me right away, "but as writers we tend to pull from our own life experiences for inspiration." Was she insinuating that I had murdered someone before to stay with them forever? Unless I was doing crazy shit in my sleep, I couldn't recall a time where I had acted as such. Of course…I was responsible for someone's death…inadvertently responsible, but…NO! I couldn't let my mind go there now or ever. Who cared if the date was so quickly approaching the anniversary of Julia's death? This story had nothing to do with Julia, and it wasn't about how I was going to murder Clare. Why couldn't anyone just understand my intensions? Were they really that far beyond the social norm?

I released a dark, frustrated chuckle. "Miss, I'm going to kill Clare and drink her blood. I'm good."

So…I wasn't exactly good, per say, but I was fine in the context of the conversation. Miss Dawes studied me for a few extra seconds, perhaps detecting my distress and sorrow. Maybe she would call me on it. Maybe she would be able to offer insight on how to fix things. If she asked, I told myself, I would open up to her. I would talk about what was going on.

But, much to my dismay, she swallowed my lie. "Okay; it's my job to check. Congratulations, Eli. I'm real proud of you.' I smiled again, but the frustration resurfaced. "Hey, you know, the gothic fiction convention is in Bloomington over spring break. With Stalker Angel under your belt…might be worth checking out?"

Huh? A fiction convention…Clare and I loved fiction; it was our thing. Writing, reading…those were our passions. Maybe Adam was wrong…I could still come up with a plan that would uncomplicated things. Maybe Miss Dawes had helped after all… "Maybe it would; thanks," I told her sincerely. She nodded as I walked out of the room.

Instead of heading to the cafeteria, where Clare and Adam we undoubtedly waiting for my arrival, I walked out to the front of the school. I sat down on the steps and dialed my dad's cell phone number; he was the go-to guy for kind of tickets- including lit convention tickets. He had all the right connections.

"Eli, is everything alright there?"

I laughed at his greeting. "I hope when people call the radio station you go with a more formal greeting."

"Smart-ass," my dad accused and I laughed. "If nothing is wrong than why call me when you're supposed to be at school?"

"It's lunch, so I'm not missing anything important. Anyway, my English teacher told me about this gothic fiction convention in Bloomington…have you heard about it?"

"Sure, sure; Rick, from the radio, is going. He likes the more disturbing literature. I told him about your story, and he's excited to read it."

"Okay, so Rick would know where we could obtain tickets to this shindig, yes?"

"Fine, Mr. Subtlety, how many tickets do you want?"

"I was thinking four…because Mrs. Edwards probably won't let Clare go if it's just me and her."

Bullfrog let out a breathy sigh, and I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. "Nothing like a romantic gesture for your woman, huh? Okay, okay; I'll check with Cece and then I'll call Rick. Just…one thing."

"What is it Bullfrog?"

"You had better get me something really kick-ass for my birthday…which happens to be tomorrow…got it?"

"What makes you think that I don't already have something kick-ass?" I questioned stubbornly. Last month I had stumbled upon a whole bunch of old vinyl that I knew Bullfrog would go gaga for. Not to mention I had gotten him and Cece some tickets to an indie band they loved.

"Oh, yeah, what is it?"

"You're not exactly sly, you know. That was the worst attempt to weasel information ever. You'll just have to wait till tomorrow, old man. What are…like, 70 now?"

"I'm barely 40, thank you very much."

"The way you act suggests you're still 12."

"Eli, go back to school, you little fuck."

"Alright, alright; thanks again, Bullfrog. I love you."

"I love you, too, kid. Go…broaden your horizons." The line disconnected before I could respond with one last sarcastic comment.

I pocketed my phone, went to my locker to retire my brown-bagged lunch and made my way to the cafeteria. Adam and Clare were seated at our usual table, smiling and laughing. A ridiculous pang of jealousy shot through my spine unexpectedly. Clare never looked that carefree when she was around me anymore...

I ignored the worry, latching on to the idea that once Clare and I were on our Spring Break vacation together we could sort everything out. Once we had some time alone to distress and rediscover each other our relationship would fall back into the natural, happy rhythms I missed so much. I loved Clare through thick and thin, but it had been far too long since we had seen any thin.

I slowly approached the table and sat down across from Adam- next to Clare. She immediately slid closer to me…good sign. This trip to Bloomington would work…I was starting to become quite confident in that.

"Hey, beautiful," I smiled, sliding my hand around her waist. She didn't cringe away or pull it off, so I started to relax. Maybe she had found some way to temporarily ignore all the stress that had been making her snappy.

"Hi, handsome; where have you been?"

"I had a phone call to make. Why did you miss me?" Clare rolled her eyes, but she giggled.

Adam, on the other hand, was not amused. "Gross, guys. Sometimes I like it better when you're not getting along."

"Bite your tongue!" I demanded, and Clare threw one of her pretzels at him. Adam reciprocated with a carrot, and the two of them dissolved into laughter. "Yeah, and you two think I'm the weird one. Just try not to start a food fight, okay."

"Sure thing, Dad," Adam mocked before Clare and him tossed some of their food at me.

"I will not stand for this mutiny!" I called before I started to tickle her. Her face was bright red and there were tears running down her face before she surrendered. "You're next," I warned Adam jokingly, wiggling my fingers at him.

"Ew, weird, no. You had better not touch me, Goldsworthy."

"No trouble there, buddy," I assured him, holding my hands up in surrender. "So, Clare, what are you up to later?" If Bullfrog made good on his promise I would have the tickets by that afternoon. The sooner I asked her, the better. Then we would have something to look forward to together. Of course, that meant I would have to pay Mrs. Edwards a visit after school. I would probably have to take Bullfrog with me as backup, too. Clare's mom didn't trust me, but I hoped that if she had the chance to talk to my dad it would put all her worries at ease. And then I could surprise Clare. It was the perfect plan. I was pretty sure it was Mrs. Edward's week in the house with Clare.

"I'm dress shopping with Alli, remember?" Clare voice hardened just a tad, and I tensed slightly in response.

"Okay…well, if you get the chance text me when you're done. If you want to, of course."

"Yeah, sure, Eli," Clare smiled at me, the hardness gone as quickly as it had come. It was like she had expected me to force her to cancel her plans with Alli just to hang out with me. It wasn't like I had to be around her 24/7…I just liked to. "Is there a reason why?"

"That is classified information, my friend. You'll just have to call later to find out."

Clare and Adam rolled their eyes at me. "Eli Goldsworthy," Adam shook his head fondly at me, "there are sure some strange things that happen in that brain of yours."

I think he meant it as a joke, but while I let out a strangled laugh, Clare just looked down awkwardly at her hands, a small grimace on her face.

Bad sign- back to square one.

XXX

The rest of the school day was uneventful, but when I got home I was attacked.

"Oh, Eli I am so proud of yoooouuuu!" Cece drew out the word into more syllables than was strictly necessary, planting kisses all over my face.

"Hi, Mom…it's good to see you, too. Feel free to explain why you're smothering me at any time. Really, this isn't bothering me at all."

She pulled away, a sly smile on her face and I winked at her. She knew me too well than to take me seriously. "Baby boy, your writing was so…perfect! And that ending was bone-chilling. Where did you come up with that?"

"A writer's mind is a frightening place to live…so I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Cece just shook her head at me. "Whatever you say, sweetie; I'm going to have to get the story framed, or something. My baby is all grown up and published…and going to his first lit convention!"

"Oh, good, so Bullfrog did talk to you. I'm glad you're okay with it."

Why wouldn't I be? A few days' vacation with you, Bullfrog and Clare sounds wonderful! That girl is so exceptionally sweet."

"Yeah," I smiled to myself, letting my mind wander to a night in a hammock under a starry sky, and I sighed wistfully. To have those days back would be such a relief…fingers crossed about Bloomington. "She really, really is. So, where is Bullfrog anyway?"

"Picking up those tickets- he should be back soon."

I nodded and excused myself to my room. I plopped down at my desk immediately and started to work on my homework. About twenty minutes, and not much progress later, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and Bullfrog popped his head in.

"I've got the goods," he told me, lowering his voice.

"You sound like you're trying to deal me drugs."

"I'm ashamed you think so little of me…I would never stoop as low as dealing drugs to my kid. No, I'm much classier- strictly alcohol."

"If anyone was still wondering who I got my sense of humor from…"

"Damn straight," Bullfrog agreed, handing over the four, all-access passes to the Gothic Fiction convention.

"Thank you," I held up the tickets, smiling brightly. "Any chance you're still feeling generous?"

"Geeze, Kid- what could you possibly want now?"

"For you to come with me to ask Mrs. Edwards her permission to take Clare. I want to surprise Clare later, but I don't want to get her hopes up if Clare's mom won't let her go. And Clare's not home, so if we go now we can talk to Mrs. Edwards alone…"

Bullfrog gave me another overly dramatized sigh before he smiled. "I'll go with you on one condition." I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "You have to let me drive Morty; it's been a while and I want to make sure the ole trooper is still running right."

I tried not to groan since he was doing me a favor, but I really didn't like anyone else behind the wheel of my most prized possession. Either way, I dug the keys out of my pocket and silently handed them over. Bullfrog looked triumphant, and I followed him out the door and to the hearse.

The ride was a fairly enjoyable one. Bullfrog was surprised that I had been keeping up with Morty's high-maintenance needs, and he actually sounded pretty good…for a vintage hearse, anyway. I hashed out the details with my dad; reminding him that the Edwards were a conservative family…and that he needed to stress Clare and I would not be staying in the same hotel room. Bullfrog listened studiously and nodded when appropriate. The closer we got to Clare's house, the more excited I became. We were really doing this…it was going to be spectacular!

Bullfrog pulled up to the curb opposite Clare's house, and I saw Mrs. Edwards sitting on the front porch tending to some potted plants. I smiled to myself…perfect. "Okay, remember everything I said. I doubt Mrs. Edwards is going to make it easy for us."

He ignored my comment, getting out of the hearse, so I followed suit, suddenly a bit nervous. I mean, it wasn't like Clare's mom actually liked me.

"You owe me for this, kiddo," he reminded me again as we crossed the street. "Lucky for me it's my birthday tomorrow!"

I laughed at him, wondering how many hints he was planning on dropping. I had his gifts, and our annual hunting trip was already planned out. I had asked Adam last week if he was interested in coming, Bullfrog's idea, and Adam had been more than happy to oblige. He and Bullfrog had really bonded over kicking my butt at video games. They never played fair.

Okay, I prepped myself; it was time to focus on the task at hand.

Clare's mom looked up at our noisy approach. "Eli," she sounded shocked to find me on her front stoop, which, I supposed, was fair. I didn't really make a habit of showing up unannounced at Casa de Edwards. I didn't want to get Clare in trouble, and I most certainly didn't need to give her parents another reason to dislike me.

"Hi, Mrs. Edwards," I greeted her formally. "This is my dad, Bullfrog."

"Nice to meet you," she greeted him, sounding the most sincere I had ever heard her. I knew Clare was still upset and dealing, but her mom seemed to be doing much better with the divorce these days. She looked…happy. I mentally crossed my fingers that this wouldn't be too hard. "I'm sorry…Clare's not home right now."

"I'm here to ask your permission," I chose my words carefully, delicately.

Mrs. Edwards chuckled. You're not planning to propose…," she prompted, her voice insinuating that she found that idea hilarious and unappealing.

"No, no, no," I assured her quickly, Clare and I weren't ready for that yet. But who knew what the future had in store for us…well, here went nothing. "I-I wondered if Clare could come with me and my parents to Bloomington for two days. There's a lit convention she'd love."

The look on Mrs. Edwards' face was not a promising one. I anticipated her let down before the words even left her mouth. "Clare's only fifteen. I don't think it's a good idea, but I'll tell her you came by." Talk about a blow-off.

But I wasn't about to give up, though. Clare and I needed this time alone together. I just had to sincere and honest, and hope that Mrs. Edwards would hear me out. "Y-Your daughter's my best friend," I started, my voice passionate. "She's the kindest, most patient person I've ever met. She would love you for this."

Mrs. Edwards put down her flowers and studied my face for a moment, but there was no way she found anything but my love for her daughter.

"Well," she said after a long pause, "where would you be staying."

Bullfrog, sensing that Mrs. Edwards' question was his cue, stepped forward. "We booked two rooms at a hotel; Clare will bunk with my wife." She was actually considering this…I was flabbergasted…

"And you wouldn't let them out of your sight?" Mrs. Edwards asked, and I could almost taste her resignation on my tongue. Morty, Clare and I on the open road. It sounded perfectly cozy. I suddenly wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything before. It all just sounded so perfect, and it was so close to becoming a reality.

"I'll watch her like she's my own," Bullfrog assured charmingly, draping an arm around my shoulders to add to his point. I suppressed a chuckle at his performance.

After much deliberation… "Well, it's really up to Clare," Mrs. Edwards decided, and I wanted to give her a hug, or jump up and down- something!

"Thanks, Mrs. Edwards," I smiled at her brightly, and she nodded after me as Bullfrog and I walked back to Morty. I was so happy over our victory that I almost tried to make my way to the driver's side before I remembered I was riding shotgun again. But it was totally worth it…Clare and I were going to Bloomington together!

XXX

An hour or so after I talked to Clare's mom, Clare called me to tell me that she was done shopping with Alli. I asked if she was up for a little hang out, and when she told me to come pick her up I practically ran out the door. I could not wait to tell her about our plans for Spring Break. She was going to love this!

I parked Morty on the curb in front of Clare's house and waited for her to come out. When she did she was practically skipping to my car. "I have something for you," she smiled sweetly at me as she put her seatbelt on.

"Is that so?" I smiled back, loving her buoyant mood. It had been a while since I had seen Clare this relaxed. I guess she must have had a good time dress shipping.

"Yeah…hey, where are we going, anyway?"

My smile grew more pronounced as I made a snap decision. "How about somewhere we can be alone…our own little spot, you know?"

"Could you be more specific?" Clare chuckled at me.

"Are you opposed to hanging out at our abandoned church?"

"Not at all; that sounds fun!"

With a confirmed destination in mind I started driving toward our special hang out. On the way there Clare described some incident that had happened in her science class early that involved Alli accidentally mixing two chemicals that were not supposed to be mixed. Clare told me I should be happy that she's still alive, and I couldn't help but laugh at her adorable dramatics.

Once we actually reached the rundown church I surprised Clare by actually pulling Morty onto the overgrown forest floor. "What are you doing?" she cringed as I swung Morty around, nearly missing a tree in the process.

"I just figured we could sit on Morty's hood and talk since we don't have any chairs, or a blanket, and the ground is kind of dirty…and uncomfortable."

Clare laughed. "Always thorough, if nothing else."

"You know me so well," I joked, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "Now, you said that you have something for me, remember…?"

"Ah, yes," Clare reached into her bag and fumbled around a bit. "Here it is," she handed me a decorated CD. "It's a mix of all the songs that remind me of you."

"Clare, that's so sweet," I smiled sweetly at her, and she leaned in to kiss me lightly on the lips once. I pushed the CD into Morty's disc player, and the first song blasted through the rolled down windows. I smiled, recognizing the familiar beat. "So," I said once Clare and I got out of the hearse and slid onto the hood, staring into the deep green abyss above us, "how was dress shopping?"

"I spent all afternoon talking Alli out of matching her earrings with her shoes with her dress with her headband," Clare laughed, and my head spun just thinking about all that matching. "Let's just say Alli's never met a pink she didn't like." I let out a tiny laugh, not sure that I really cared about Alli. I wanted to know if Clare had found anything special. "Oh, my God," Clare squealed, and I thought she sounded a whole lot like Alli. They had spent the entire afternoon with each other. "I love this song."

I assumed Clare liked every song on the CD since she had made it, but perhaps this one was a favorite. Personally I had never heard it before, but it sounded really upbeat…right up Clare's alley. She hopped off the hood and leaned in the hearse to turn up the volume. And then, unexpectedly, she started to twirl around the forest. She looked so carefree and beautiful…it was almost too perfect of a picture not to say anything.

"Clare Middle-of-the-Road Edwards," I joked, but I should have known better. Of course all my jokes were taken the wrong way these days.

"I like it," Clare immediately got defensive, and the guard was back in her eyes. Why the hell did I open my big mouth? "It's happy- like spring time."

I decided it was best not to explain myself…things would jest get messier. "Okay," I gave in without even putting up a fight. "Sorry." I leaned forward, pulling the tickets out of my back pocket. "Speaking of fresh air…all-access passes to the gothic fiction convention." I smiled at her, waiting for her reaction.

I was expecting excitement, some kind of gratitude, maybe even a kiss, but I got Clare's anger instead and I didn't know why. "That's in Bloomington," she accused, obviously having already heard about the convention.

I refused to let her be unexcited about this. "I know; we're going on a Spring Break road trip in the hearse. My parents are chaperoning from the hog…your mom said you could go."

All of these things were good things- they showed that I had taken care to plan this out; taken care to make this perfect for Clare. But she still found something to be upset about, and I was frustrated. She was supposed to be excited with me, not dragging down the high I had been riding. What happened to the bubbly Clare that I had been hanging out with a few minutes ago?

"You talked to my mom?" she seemed offended.

"Yeah," I confirmed, confused.

"Why wouldn't you talk to me first?" Clare deadpanned.

"I-I wanted it to be a surprise," I tried to explain myself, to find some kind of enthusiasm in her about our road trip. "Something special for my girl," I told her tenderly.

Clare took a deep breath, and it looked like she was trying to regain her composure. She constructed her face carefully before meeting my eye again. "I can't believe you did all this…"

"This convention is a once in a lifetime opportunity- me, you and Morty," I slid closer to her, taking her hands in mine, "nothing in our way. It's a chance for us to reconnect," I told her softly, hopefully. We needed this…without this trip together…who knew how long it would take for our relationship to fall apart. Clare smiled a little, but she stepped away from me, pulling her hands out of mine. That was certainly not the reaction I had been looking for, but, as crushing as it was, maybe it wasn't totally unexpected.

I couldn't lose her, though. I needed her to stay with me. I needed her in order to survive.

"I just thought it'd be fun," I told her, dejected.

"Okay, I'll come," Clare said as if she was doing me a favor by coming. Didn't she want to mend our relationship, too? This was for both of us, after all.

"I thought you'd be a little more excited," I confessed, searching her eyes for any sign that she was still in love with me. All I saw was pain that echoed mine.

"What more do you want, Eli, I'm going?" she snapped, and I nodded, deciding not to push the issue further.

What was going on with her; with us?

I felt like our relationship was falling to pieces in front of my face, and Clare refused to help me pick them up so we could glue it back together.

She wanted us to stay broken, and the thought alone made me shatter.

Whoa; sorry this took so long…I wasn't expecting there to be so many words. Well, I am sorry about the obscene length, but I hope, you like it! Let me know what you think?