Carly hadn't called. She hadn't texted. She hadn't anything. Italy must be great; she hasn't told me otherwise. The first week after she left, we were in constant communication. She'd found great new friends and a fantastical romantic interest. Soccer player. Figured. She'd tell me that she missed all of us, and that she would visit every chance she came across. She would ask how I was doing in school and nod her head approvingly when I said my grades were passable. She would, of course, ask about Spencer and Freddie. And that was it.

After that, the conversations became mundane, like she only spoke to me because she had to. I struggled to keep the time alive, but soon ran out of things to say. I could've asked about her life in Italy, her new friends, the apparently handsome soccer player, but it would've hurt to hear the happiness rooted in her voice. She could probably talk for hours about her new life. And I knew she wouldn't visit. Let's face it, Seattle is no Italy.

After contact had been lost, I began to feel this awakening in myself that I hadn't felt in several years. The instinct to misbehave had renewed itself inside of me. Carly was always there to throw water on the flames and urge me to stay in line like a good girl. Now that her influence was on another continent, there was nothing stopping me. At first, I attempted to keep it suppressed, knowing Spencer would be upset if I got myself into big trouble, but soon it was slowly starting to grow.

I started out small, just nicking a few candy bars off of shelves and stuffing them in my pockets. The rush was addicting as I walked out the door, waiting for someone to shout "Hey! Come back here!" They rarely did. I was pretty fast so nobody ever caught me. I was moving on from gas stations to department stores. Candy bars to designer jeans. Designer jeans to a mini laptop. And I still hadn't been caught. News got around the delinquent side of Ridgeway about my amazing thieving abilities. So I made some new friends who taught me things I'd never heard of. How to pick a lock without being noticed or how to steal a refrigerator. Soon, Carly was pushed from my mind. I didn't need her around. I forgot all about Freddie and Spencer and Gibby too. They always held me back from finding my true calling.

I slapped a five dollar bill down on the greasy counter of the gas station convinience store. The owner eyed me suspiciously as he scanned the pack of cigarettes and checked my ID. I kept my poker face strong as the stolen goods in my pocket crinkled slightly when I shifted my arm. This store had all of my favorite food items and I didn't want the owner chasing me away for stealing so I usually paid for something to deter suspicion. He handed me my change and cigarettes, muttering a thanks while watching me walk through the automatic doors. I stuffed the money in the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my lucky Zippo lighter. I flipped the top and lit a cigarette, taking a long pull and blowing the hot smoke back into the chilly air.

"Hey Sam!" a buddy of mine named Damien called.

"Damien, what goes on?" I greeted smoothly, cigarette still between my lips.

"Dude, Porky found this awesome abandoned warehouse downtown! Party central tonight!" Damien was nearly gushing with excitement, "There's like, a million people coming!"

"Will there be booze?" I asked.

"Is the sky blue?" Damien snorted. I grinned at his smart-ass remark and punched his arm, taking another long pull of my cigarette.

"I'll be there."

That night, I parked my motorcycle and looked up at the dilapidated building. It was nearly overtaken by bushels of overgrown plants and long tangles of vines. I was trying to decide where the entrance was when Damien crawled out of a bush. I could tell he was already buzzed by the way he grinned at the sight of me.

"Sam!" He cried, spilling a bit of his drink on his sweatshirt, "Party's inside. Come on!" I followed him through a gaping hole in the side of building to fine it crammed with people. Someone had set up a large stockpile of various brands of alcohol in the corner, kept cold by the winter wind that blew through the gaps in the walls. I ditched Damien to shove my way into a group of kids huddled around a Hookah.

"What's in it?" I asked, taking an end.

"Tropical Kush," one of them said with a buttery voice. I put it to my lips and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in my lungs for several seconds. I blew it out forcefully and quickly dove in for another hit. My head began to float as a good feeling spread all the way to my fingertips. I ditched the group and began to search for a drink. I elbowed through the thick crowd until I was able to grab a bottle of something. As I was unscrewing the cap, I looked up and saw the back of a familiar brunette. I almost dropped the bottle as I pushed and shoved desperately until my hand gripped her shoulder roughly.

"Carly-!" I stopped when the girl turned around. It wasn't her. The girl glared at me and pushed me away, snarling an insult. I growled, throwing the bottle to the ground. I pushed her back forcefully.

"Nobody pushes me," I said icily.

"Oh yeah?" The girl challenged, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back. I charged, digging my knuckles deeply into the girl's face. She crumpled to the ground and crawled away, waving her arm in surrender. I wandered back to the booze and gulped down several mouthfuls of god knows what. It was so stupid to think that girl was Carly. She was having the time of her life in Italy with hot soccer players. Why the fuck would she be back in Seattle, much less at such a scummy gathering? I sloshed some of my drink down my shirt by accident as I stumbled through the party.

"HEY!" A voice bellowed as a hand grabbed the front of my shirt. A muscular guy wearing a backwards hat had my shirt clutched in his fist. I looked at him through my drunken haze. He looked beyond pissed.

"What do you want Tinkerbell?" I sighed, glancing longingly at the joints being passed around.

"You punched my girl!" He snarled, "I don't care if you're a girl, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!"

"What a gentleman," I chuckled, "You're contradicting yourself."

"Fuck you!" He yelled, shoving my back into a wall. I just laughed more, grabbing his wrist and bending it back until I had him begging for mercy. I waited until I heard the satisfying crunch of his bones cracking, then I finally released him. I gave him a swift kick in the ribs as anger flooded into me without warning.

Anger at Carly.

Anger at being abandoned. Again.

Anger at myself.

I kicked him again and grabbed the front of his tanktop, yanking him off the ground. I began to punch whatever I could reach over and over, transferring my anger into his face and body. I would've gone longer but someone pulled me off of him and forced me through the warehouse exit. I landed in the bushes and laid there for several minutes. I beat the shit out of that guy but I didn't feel better at all. I felt sick as I clambered from the underbrush and began to walk through the streets, wondering why life was so keen to fuck me over.

I'm back :)