I

For the longest time, being separated from his brother wasn't something that Zack Martin had to worry about. For what seemed like his entire life he'd shared a bedroom, a bathroom, clothes, and privacy with his brother. He shared a life with him. Seven Seas High was different though. They had been drafted into different cabins with mixed emotions; they were both happy for a chance to be separate from the other half, but sad that their closest friend and twin brother now seemed out of reach. It wasn't until they started becoming friends with Bailey Pickett that they realized having separate rooms might be better for their relationship anyway.

It was an especially dense morning when Marion Moseby strutted up to the smoothie bar with confidence that seemed to overflow out of his small stature. The smoothie bar had only few morning customers, as usual. As it would turn out, people actually didn't want smoothies, but Zack didn't care; fewer customers meant less work for the same pay. From the minute they locked eyes from twenty or thirty feet away, Zack knew that Moseby had something to say. For a brief minute the blond-haired boy wracked his brain, trying to remember doing anything that might warrant a visit from his rival, but nothing came to mind. His pranking ways had nearly vanished ever since Maya left the ship.

"Zackary, just the person I was looking for."

"What a cawinkidink you found me here. What's up, Mr. Moseby?"

"I'd like to inform you that you're getting a new roommate. I suppose I should rephrase that." He collected himself again, straightening his bowtie. "I'd like to inform you that you're getting a roommate."

"Roommate?"

Zack hadn't had a roommate since the first few weeks on board the ship. Then, Marcus Little had been his roommate, but he quickly had to leave once his identity as Lil' Little was revealed. Ever since then, Zack had the cabin to himself. His bed remained his bed. The other bed was more of a desk, really just a surface to hold as much junk as possible, and the bathroom had been his entirely. Now he had to share it all fifty-fifty. "Where am I going to put all my stuff?"

"What's that?"

Zack shook his head, "Nothing. Where is he coming from?"

"From another cabin. Why do you ask?"

"Well why can't he stay there?"

Moseby looked over the boy's nearly innocent face. Zack was a master at manipulating people, he knew, and he wouldn't fall victim to his shenanigans. Someone who didn't know the prankster might have fallen for the wide-eyed, questioning look, but Moseby simply had to shrug it off. He knew how Zack worked. "There was an incident between the two of them. It doesn't really matter. I'm sure you'll get along grandly." That was the one thing he was sure of. He knew Zack well, and he liked to think he understood this Mickey Carson character. The two of them would get along perfectly. They were both hooligans. Allowing the two of them to share a cabin would be a success, containing their pranks and nonsense to a single location, or the worst mistake of his career, concentrating their efforts and promoting collaboration. Only time could tell.

Zack offered a single eyebrow at the shorter man's flowery vocabulary. He wasn't impressed. In fact, he was rather annoyed. Moseby knew better than anyone how to ruin a day. "What the hell? When does he move in?"

"He's packing up his belongings now and will move in at his earliest convenience. I'll allow you to close up here and take the rest of the day off to clean up your undeniably untidy room. And I'll do you the service of overlooking your colorful choice of words."

Zack nodded, not out of gratitude, but in understanding that his world was about to change and there was nothing he could do about it. It seemed to be happening all around him these days. There was absolutely no stopping it. He watched Moseby turn on his heel and strut boldly away, disappearing behind a corner. Zack took a deep breath and let it out in a single, heaving sigh before closing up the smoothie bar, not that he expected more than a handful of customers for the rest of his shift.

His undeniably untidy room was just that. Undeniably untidy. Zack groaned at the daunting task before him and started cleaning the side of the room he didn't want. It didn't take as long as he expected before the room was actually presentable. Zack made sure it was clear that his side of the room was the one he wanted, the side closest to the door. There was no need to be close to the bathroom, and he didn't want to worry about sneaking out in case he ever needed to do that.

Zack was just tossing the last pair of sweatpants onto a pile of clothes in the corner of the room when the door flew open and his new roommate came strolling in. Zack simply watched as the boy, who was thankfully his age, moved all of his stuff into the room and settle onto the bed that was clearly left for him. The boy was shorter than Zack by a few inches and sported medium-length, buzzed, black hair. His tanned skin stretched tautly over his high cheekbones and almost feminine features. His skinny frame told him he was probably a nerd like Cody, quite possibly the last thing he wanted in a roommate, but the black Pink Floyd shirt he was wearing suggested there was more to him than met the eye. Perhaps they would be able to become friends.

The boy checked his watch and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and looking at Zack, "I'm Mickey."

Zack nodded. He looked familiar. He recognized the odd name and the droopy eyes from somewhere. "Zack."

Mickey's eyebrows raised slightly, "Zack Martin. Oh okay. I think we're in the same math class."

Zack nodded again, this time with more vigor. That was where the boy was from. The two of them sat in the back of the class and usually used the hour-long morning class to catch up on lost sleep. In fact, they had both served a detention together for that same reason. "Yeah we are." Awkwardly, Zack settled back into his own bed, unable to think of anything to ask him or share about himself.

He felt uncomfortable, like Mickey was expecting him to say or do something and he wasn't doing it. For the first time in his life Zack was forced to share something with somebody other than his twin brother. It was a new feeling for him. It was almost as if there was a glass wall between them, obviously and awkwardly there, but he was unable to hide behind it. There was no more privacy.

Mickey caught onto the awkwardness as well. "Got any booze around here?"

Zack offered a casual laugh and shook his head, caught off guard by the question. "No. Sorry."

Mickey shrugged and dug in his backpack, pulling out a small wooden box. He opened the box and almost immediately Zack could identify a rather pungent smell that he couldn't quite place. From within the box he produced a skinny white tube of some sort. It wasn't until he dug out an orange lighter that Zack realized the smell was marijuana and the white tube was a joint.

Mickey noticed Zack staring at him and the objects he held in his hand. With a slight smile, he extended the joint. "You smoke?"

Zack thought for a moment about the question. The answer was no, he had never smoked weed before, but there was something about it that drew him to the idea. There were so many varied opinions about the drug; it made him want to find out if it was really a bad thing or if the claims that it was a medicinal herb were true. He nearly laughed as he imagined the look on Cody's face should his brother ever find out he had lit up a joint. "No, man. Thanks though."

Zack's hesitation wasn't lost on Mickey, but the new roommate ignored it, shrugged, and flicked the lighter, igniting the joint. He took a long inhale and held it peacefully for a few seconds before exhaling smoothly and evenly, blowing smoke into the air. He relaxed back into his pillows and took another drag, letting out a hearty sigh as another milky cloud emerged from his mouth.

The smell was instantly present in the room, making Zack crinkle his nose. It wasn't pleasant and it was terribly obvious. He turned and looked at Mickey, noticing how his eyes were drooping even more. "Won't you get in trouble for that? I mean, the whole ship can smell that shit." Zack knew that if the smell attracted the nose of a certain Marion Moseby, he wasn't taking any blame for it.

Mickey just laughed, "Nah. The cabins are pretty airtight. If you invite Moseby over for popcorn and a movie or something I'll probably get busted, but otherwise we'll be fine." He didn't look away after he finished talking, seeing the way Zack eyed the expertly rolled joint. The look in his eye was one of deep desire. Mickey wasn't sure if Zack was aware, but he could tell that the blond-haired boy would be medicating before he knew it.

Curious, Zack watched his new roommate fade into a dream. There was something about him that suggested a possible friendship. Mickey certainly wasn't a nerd. He didn't spend all his time with his nose buried in his textbooks or the next week's homework. He wasn't a computer geek, programming useless programs. He wasn't a jock, obsessed with some sport to the point of social incapability. He was casual, relaxed, and seemed pretty easy to get along with. For once, maybe Moseby had actually done something good for him. For once, it appeared as if Moseby messed up. Zack grinned and slipped out of the room, enjoying a stroll around the sun-soaked decks of the ship.

Over the course of the week it became more and more evident to Zack that he and Mickey could become rather close friends. They shared many of the same interests. As it would turn out, they both enjoyed a well-planned practical joke, hot girls, and both detested nearly everything about school. Even though Mickey wasn't from Boston, they shared a common love for nearly every Boston or New England sports team. They both played basketball and skateboarded. Neither of them particularly enjoyed winter. The similarities between them were almost eerie. For a brief moment, Zack wondered if Mickey was somehow his twin and if somebody had mixed him and Cody up at birth.

At the same time, though, it became more and more evident that Mickey was rather different. He was quiet and mysterious at times and an hour later he would be so talkative, Zack would have to leave the cabin. Usually, when these bouts of hyperactivity came on, Mickey would light up a joint and settle back down into his bed, his air of quietness settling calmly around him. Zack wondered if Mickey knew he was getting hyperactive and that's why he smoked, or if it was for another reason. One thing was certain; Mickey didn't enjoy talking to any extent about his family. Whenever Zack approached the subject, no matter how carefully he tiptoed around it, Mickey would change course or completely stop talking.

After a few days and no consequences, Zack realized that either nobody cared that Mickey was smoking weed in their cabin or nobody knew. The smell either wasn't as strong as that first joint he lit up, or the smell had settled slightly into their cabin. Once, when Zack had been making up a smoothie for his brother and Bailey, she had commented on his cologne. He hadn't been wearing cologne, but accepted the compliment anyway, noticing the way it made Cody's eyes snap up from the counter to his girlfriend and then to Zack.

By the time Friday came, Moseby had made a quick stop by their cabin, but hadn't commented on the smell at all. Thankfully the Mexican buffet that was being prepared not far from their cabin and the generous breeze that blew the scent of bean burritos towards them seemed to cover it up. When Moseby left, Mickey waited a few minutes and pulled out the wooden box, lighting up an unfinished joint. He took a long drag and paused before exhaling.

"So do you want to know my life story or something?" Each word was articulated with its own small could of smoke.

Zack nodded, fearing words may scare his new friend away from the obviously touchy subject. In truth, he could feel his heart beating both faster and harder anticipating whatever bit of juicy gossip had caused Mickey to keep away from the topic.

He took another drag and let it out. "When I was real young, my mom was always drunk and my dad molested me. Thankfully one day my mom put me into foster care so I could get away from my dad, but every other fucking house I went to I was either beaten or molested or some shit. Most of the time it was both." He didn't pause for effect, knowing the value of his words. In fact, he didn't want to give Zack to unleash the bombardment of questions that he usually received when recounting his life story.

Zack found a crack of an opportunity as Mickey licked his lips. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Mickey let his mouth hang open for a second before responding. Never before had anybody reacted this way. Usually he was being showered with pity or asked so many questions about what exactly happened to him. In some cruel cases, Mickey knew his audience just wanted to make him suffer by recounting all of the times he had a grown man's cock shoved in his face. "It's alright. I'm over that shit."

Zack didn't react, catching the glint in Mickey's eye that indicated some kind of gratitude. He simply figured it was for expressing some kind of concern at all. He tended to be a man of few words as well, just another similarity between the two of them.

"I was always looking for a way to get away from the abuse, but it's not exactly easy to get away when you're owned by the fucking state and you're just a weak little ten or twelve year old." He took a long drag, remembering back to all of the other boys he met at all of the foster homes he had been sent to. "I wasn't the only one either. It happens more than you think. Those fuckers make videos a lot of the time and they all share them. It's like this whole community of fucked up pervs. One of the bastards at this foster home picked me out of the bunch because he recognized me from one of his favorite videos."

Zack couldn't find the words to properly react, noticing the way Mickey had actually shuddered, but settled on what he thought captured his emotions. "That's fucked up man."

"Tell me about it. You wouldn't understand but all of this," he paused, searching for the right words, "shit gets to you. It fucks with your head. I was real depressed. It got to the point where I couldn't even get my ass out of bed in the morning." He turned his attention from the pillow he had been addressing to Zack's surprisingly intense eyes and regretted it immediately. "One of them made us sleep naked, three or four of us all to one bed." He took another drag feeling the effects of the plant relax the muscles he didn't realize were tensed. "I got into drugs. I started taking Adderall just to get myself up in the morning, just to want to do something. Then I got into doing blow and was pretty fucked up. This is when I was like thirteen."

"But you're off that now, right? I mean, I haven't seen you do that stuff here." Zack wasn't sure if he liked the idea of having a roommate snorting cocaine five feet away from where he slept. Weed, he was fine with, but cocaine just seemed like too much.

"Yeah. I'm off that shit." He took the last drag from the joint and threw it in the wastebasket after making sure the ember was out. "Anyway, I met my girlfriend, Carley. I was actually staying at this home and the guy would beat me when he was drunk, but the woman was real nice to me. Anyway, I met Carley and I was just messing around with her at this mall because I was high, but she seemed into me so we kept meeting there. I guess somewhere along the way we became more than friends. I don't really remember it happening, just that I always felt safe and wanted when I was with her." He paused, waiting for a giggle of laughter. When he received none, he kept going, "She convinced her family to take me in and they helped me get clean and I started realizing that there was more to life, you know. I mean, all my life I'd been beaten and molested and everything. I was free." He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. "I guess that's it. I got lucky."

"How'd you get here?"

"She got accepted to Seven Seas High and told them she'd only go if they let me in too. I guess it worked. I pretty much owe everything to her."

Zack nodded, slowly, thinking over all Mickey had said. It was clear why he always avoided the subject. Now, Zack felt bad for pressing him to talk about it. If he had known his new friend had been through so much pain and horror, he would have never kept bringing it up. To Zack, Mickey's behavior seemed normal now. Of course, he didn't want to talk about his family. Of course he experienced some of the worst attitude changes Zack had ever seen. All of the torture and drugs had changed him. He was surprised that Mickey was as normal as he was. He figured it must take a strong-minded person to suffer through that and come out as good as he did.

"Shit man, sorry I kept wanting you to talk about it."

Mickey shrugged and smiled. He wouldn't try to dispute that fact. Zack had asked nearly twice a day about his family or where he came from, often times disguising it by asking what he'd be doing if he weren't on the SS Tipton at that moment. Mickey had to admit that Zack had a clever way of getting to information without asking for it. "It's all good. I just think you may as well know what you're dealing with here."

Zack shrugged. "We're friends. Nothing changes that."

Mickey nodded and sat up, looking at him confidently in the eyes. For the first time since walking onto the ship he felt as if he might have a true friend. Someone he could be comfortable sharing with. "You going the party tomorrow night?"

Zack looked at him, confused. "What party?"

"Party in the hold. Tomorrow night. I guess all the big dogs are going to be off the ship that night and there's going to be a huge party. Should be some fun shit."

Zack was a little hurt and surprised that he hadn't even heard of it. He usually prided himself on being a rather popular invite to some of the parties around the ship, but even the ones he wasn't expressly invited too, he still knew about. It was like this time, somebody was trying to keep him away. "Who's putting it all together?"

"I don't know. Wes Carlisle and Tristan whatever-the-fuck."

"Roberts? And Wes? I hate those two fags. They're always trying to show me up or something."

"What'd you do to piss them off?"

"I guess Wes saw Tristan's girlfriend flirting with me and now they're both out to get me or something. I'm pretty sure they're fags."

Mickey laughed, which made Zack realize how rarely he heard the sound. "I wouldn't doubt it. Still you should go. There'll be so many people there, you won't even see them."

"I don't know. I'll think about it."

"That's a no?"

"One week and you already know me."

Mickey turned his attention back to putting his stash away. If Zack didn't want to go to the party, so be it. Mickey didn't know much about his new roommate before he moved in, but he did know that Zack was somewhat popular among the girls on the ship. Since moving in, he had discovered that Zack didn't smoke weed, but that he drank on occasion. Mickey didn't think of himself as somebody who judged others too harshly, but he was glad Zack wasn't a prude, that he knew how to have a little fun.

The party, he knew, would be a good time. It'd be a good opportunity to smoke a little bit with a few of the other guys he generally hung out with and get shitfaced drunk with Carley. He thought over sleeping arrangements for the following night. He couldn't really bring Carley back to this cabin if Zack was going to stay there, and from what he had heard, Carley's roommate wouldn't be attending any such party. In fact, they all had to make a conscious effort to keep the party from her, suspecting she'd snitch if she ever found out about it.

Mickey sat up, noticing Zack was changing into basketball shorts and a looser fitting shirt. "Where are you going?"

The shirt he pulled over his head caught on his face and muffled his words a bit, "Gym. I could use a workout."

"Oh. Hey, where are you gonna sleep tomorrow?"

Zack paused and looked at Mickey. It was obvious he wanted the room to himself that night. Zack was in no place to argue. He could sleep in Cody's cabin, just as easily as he could his own. He was surprised when he found himself so open to the idea. It was almost as if sharing the cabin was easier than having it all to himself. "I can sleep in my brother's cabin. Got a big night planned with your girl?"

Mickey shrugged. He didn't actually have anything planned, but he couldn't promise nothing would happen after the party. Truthfully, even though he and his girlfriend had been dating for at least three years, they hadn't had sex. In fact, the thought scared him. Every time he imagined having sex with the woman he loved so much, he couldn't help but feel the excruciating pain of every time he had been molested and imagine that's what she'd feel with him inside her.

By the time Mickey had taken a shower, changed into a pair of jeans that Carley thought he looked especially good in, and donned his Pink Floyd shirt, the sun was already below the horizon. Moseby, as well as a large portion of the other ship managers and supervisors had exited the ship, trusting that the students would be able to make it through one night relatively unsupervised. When Mickey left, he extended another invite to the party, telling Zack to keep it in mind. In fact, Zack was feeling even less compelled to go after walking in on his brother and Bailey making out earlier that day. The way they had been groping at each other made him sick to his stomach. Cody had no business doing anything like that with a girl.

When the door shut behind Mickey, Zack sprawled out over his bed, and took his laptop out. Firing up the zombie video game, he plugged his phone into some speakers and turned them up much louder than he ever would have risked in Moseby's presence. He didn't even notice how the time passed and how the moon rose and became perfectly framed in the porthole window of his cabin. He didn't notice how the light spilled into his room and the skin of his thigh, just below the line of his boxers. Instead, he focused on the legions of animated undead and the music that pumped out of the small speakers. After another ten or so minutes of the same thing, Zack killed the last zombie on the level he had been trying to clear for weeks now and sat back, a smile on his face. When the song stopped and all became silent, the smile faded rapidly and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it to return. He was alone. Everybody was at a massive party and he was sitting in his cabin alone.

He slipped into a fresh pair of jeans and looked out of the window. It was dark outside, slightly humid, and he could hear a few wandering fragments of broken conversation. The voices sounded like they were older tourists coming back from the day's excursion. Zack figured most of the people his age were at the party. With a frown, he remembered back to his life a year or so in the past and how parties were never really parties unless he was there. Everything had changed aboard the SS Tipton. For the first time, Zack actually found himself working to get through school, albeit barely. Cody seemed to have grown up and become a completely different, independent person. He even had a girlfriend. Zack didn't have any such thing. He thought back to his life a year or so in the past and to his girls: Maddie and Max.

Maddie. The thought of his hopelessly desperate pursuit made him laugh. She was way out of his league. He figured it might even have been a stretch if she was his age, but decided he could have managed it. The humor he found quickly turned sour as he realized how much of a joke he must have been to her. He had put so much energy into impressing her and showing her how mature he could be and she probably just laughed it off every time she went home. He pushed the thought aside and focused on Max.

She had been the first girl he truly had tried to have a relationship with. They had just been friends for the longest time, but one day Zack had realized exactly what she meant to him. There had been a moment when she had her hair done perfectly and she had even been wearing makeup. He remembered thinking she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. No matter how hard he tried to woo her, again, his advances had been rejected. It had been that rejection that had catapulted him into a blind rage. He focused all his efforts on becoming as attractive as possible, working out when he had the chance and hanging around girls whenever he could. She had never confirmed his suspicions of her being jealous, but his reputation as a ladies' man had grown beyond control.

After Max and before boarding the SS Tipton for the first time, he hadn't even tried to have a girlfriend. Of course, that changed when he met Maya, the goddess from New York City. Their relationship had been laughable. Zack smiled; physically, it had been amazing. They had shared just about every intimate experience possible with one another. They had regularly shared a joke that either of them could find their way around the others' body with their eyes closed. Emotionally, however, they're relationship had been non-existent. With a great sigh, Zack closed his laptop and set it back on the floor. He and Maya had shared some amazing times, but they had never really been dating.

He unplugged his cell phone and opened up the list of contacts. Scrolling through the list of names and shooting off text messages, it became evident that every one of his friends was busy or didn't want to talk to him. Woody and Addison were on a date. Woody had been sure to brag about that all week to anybody who would listen to him. Cody and Bailey were always together. Zack grinned, wondering what they were doing all the time they spent with one another. He knew, from walking in on them, that first base had been long since crossed. He couldn't help but wonder exactly how far they had gone. He shook his head to clear away the thought, growing disgusted both with it and with how curious he was becoming. He turned his thoughts to London, but she was probably indulging in some upper-class luxury that he knew would only ever grace the edges of his imagination.

Full of pent up disappointment, he peered at himself in the glass above the bathroom sink. He eyed the toilet paper that was just an arm's length away and considered a quick date with his right hand, but decided that was much too desperate. He spritzed himself with cologne and decided he may as well go to the party. He couldn't sit in his cabin alone any longer.

I'm back.