I didn't really mean to end up by the dock. But whenever I'm sad, I always find myself there. And standing there, gazing out over the smooth ripples of the waves, gave me a feeling of peace and serenity, even though that's not what I felt inside.

I'm not really sure what I felt inside at all, but I do know that it was unsettling, and crazy, and totally not okay. I didn't wake up feeling that way, either. It actually kind of hit me- to be blunt- like a brick.

I was standing in front of my mirror, lips twisted into the puckered shape of lemons, slabbing lip gloss over my lips; trying out my look for the party early. Never can be too cautious, can you? Anyways, I was standing there, twirling in my little dress, letting my wild hair wave around, when I caught a glimpse of my photo of Black and I at Peliper Land from several years ago, and it made me stop.

Even this soon, I still can't recollect what made me stop, other than the intriguing white beam of his smile, lighting up the whole photo. His mother was standing behind us, arm extended, as she smiled into the camera with a hand saluting the sun. I was next to Black, grinning like the pre-teen devil I was, my ugly green-striped sweater taking up half the photo.

But the longer I stood in front of the mirror and stared at it, I couldn't help but ask myself why I was standing there, plastering on cover-up and frying my hair, when I had told Black I didn't even like to get dressed up. It was true; I hated it. So why was I doing it?

And that's the question that brought me to the dock; that's the question that rocked me on my heels as I swayed back and forth to the sound of the wind cascading over the lake. I knew the answer before I even set foot on the creaking wood of the barren landscape; but I didn't dare admit it. Admitting it would make it real; something I was afraid of.

Why was I afraid? I couldn't tell you. In fact, I still can't. I don't think I ever will be; because no matter what has happened and ever will, I still get a twinge of fear inside my chest every time I think of that moment. It was chilled outside, and the air was silent with desolation, except for the creaks of the wind rapping the branches of the trees, and whipping the leaves. No birds, no bees, no people.

Just me, the dock, and my thoughts.

My thoughts- in which I've been so desperate to avoid writing thus far, despite whatever I will write in coming chapter. Because even though saying it makes it real, writing it makes it permanent. I could burn this page a thousand times, and never get rid of the markings I shall bestow upon it. They're here to stay; and for that, I'm kind of glad.

Because honestly, I was in love with Black.

I'm in love with Black. I chorused quietly on the dock.

The wind threatened to tip me backward; pushing me toward the wooded grain of the dock floor. Sitting gingerly at the edge, I let my toes skim the water. I had run here; as fast as I could. No shoes, no socks, not even my bag. In fact, I think I even forgot to tell my mom goodbye.

But epiphanies didn't wait; and I'm pretty certain that's what it was. Because as I sat there, brooding in my own mixture of angst and denial, I couldn't help but picture all the reasons that made my target of denial oh-so-righteous.

One time, back when we were six, we were playing on the beach when I swam a little too far out. The water had been cold at first; shocking and cruel. But the more Black coaxed me into the deeper water, it started to get warmer, and soon, both of us were splashing around like the juveniles we were.

But then his mom had called, and we were pretending she was the 'bad guy,' so we swam away. We decided to make it into a race; see who could reach the buoy first. Of course, halfway through the swim, I had neglected to notice the water had spiraled down and away from the tips of my toes, and i continued swimming.

Black had noticed; but he didn't stop. He followed me, not racing anymore. He was following me now; going further and further, even though he was a worse swimmer than I was. But I kept going, until I hit the buoy, and tried to stand; only to sink.

But he was right there beside me, holding my hand as we called out for help. I was too scared to swim back; too tired from swimming already. I bet he was exhausted, but he didn't swim away. He continued to hold my hand until one of the lifeguards swam to get us.

He held my hand all the way back, too.

That was the first time he held my hand. The third was on the Ferris wheel; and the second was on a chilly autumn day. We were still pretty young; mere adolescents having fun on a fall day. Bianca was with us that day, and all three of us, calling ourselves the 'Three Musketeers,' (Cheren was on vacation) ran into Chargestone Cave.

We were young and curious, and oh-so-stupid. Our adventurous little minds lead us on as we scuttled through the rock slabs, until the light from the outside slowly began to fade away. We hit a dead end; and although we had only been going straight, I felt lost. And scared; really, really scared.

Bianca was scared, too, and at one point, I'm pretty sure she started crying. But Black was brave; he never cried. He just kept a strong, stolid face as he led us out of the cave; holding my hand the entire way. I will never forget how warm it felt; and what a beacon of hope it symbolized for six-and-a-half year old me.

Reaching my hand up toward my face, I turned it over slowly on planks of wood; tracing the grains with the tips of my fingers. Clouds were rolling over head, and the breeze picked up. I adjusted the spring-jacket I had grabbed on my hurry out, in an attempt to deflect the winds that chilled my spine. Alas to no avail, the winds prolonged, but with increased persistence. I sighed deeply, my eyes locking on the palm of my hand.

I flexed it gently; scared of making the invisible disappear. I focused on the center, on the spot of warmth, and closed my eyes. It seems childish and dumb, but I thought back to my birthday; which was not long ago. I clenched my fingers together as I pictured his hand in mine.

Why had I never noticed how warm it was before?

I opened my eyes slowly. I knew the answer. I had known how warm it was; all along. I just had never wanted to admit it to myself. Because admitting would mean believing. And believing would mean existing.

I didn't want it to exist.

Because who wants to exist in a world where they know they must face the inevitable? Who wants to exist in a world where you know you won't win? The answer is nobody. Not you, not me, not Black. Nobody.

And yet, here I was. Gazing out over the waters with solemn eyes as I reminisced about the things I could have enjoyed all these years; but was too arrogant to realize it. Pieces of the puzzle were secretly arranging themselves in my mind, slowly forming their masterpiece.

Everything made sense now. All the questions I had gathered over the past couple weeks were now falling into their blank spaces, finding their answered match. Questions like why I had been so happy about receiving my locket. Or why I had been so jealous of Blue.

Everything was falling in to place; except for the answer to the sole question left remaining in my mind. What was I going to do, now?

Normally, I would go one about my choices, but I didn't get to then, so I won't now. In fact, I don't even believe I got to finish thinking that sentence before I heard footsteps behind me; spiking my heart rate.

"White?"

Hey guys! I'm sorry it's taken so long
But guess who got a spot on Homecoming Court?
That's right. :3 Anyways, I wrote this chapter a couple days ago,
When I was having a really tough day, so I'm sorry for the lack of comedy.
But here we go! Tada! White's admission!
I'm off to write chapter ten, so as usual, keep reviewing and thanks! 3