Chapter 2

Note: There will probably be a new note for each chapter. Just warning you.
Actual Note: The boy in the new banner at the top of the page (his name is Ulliel Gaspard) is my interpretation of how Ellis Lennon looks. Feel free to picture him anyway you like, but I'd thought I tell you what that random kid is doing there. Also, I've made up Ellis and Hazel's school schedules for no real reason other than character development and all that jazz, but if you'd like to look at them they're the first thing at the top of page to the right. Thanks for reading! -Deb

I slept soundly that night, with no dreams. When I woke in the morning, clear bright sunlight was pouring into my room through the window, just as a perfect summer day would be imagined. I smiled as I hopped out of bed, well rested but hungry.
Chris was already sitting in the kitchen when I got there, his long hair tousled and his rectangular black glasses substituting for his regular contacts. I was fortunate enough to have nearly perfect eyesight, unlike the rest of my family.
“Do you want a strawberry poptart with butter?” I asked.
He stared at me for a few seconds before answering “No, I’m just gonna have my coffee.” He’d taken to drinking pure black coffee either to seem older or more mysterious, I wasn’t sure which.
“Suit yourself.” He had never liked poptarts to begin with, especially the fruit flavored ones. But strawberry ones with melted butter on top was my favorite breakfast. I couldn’t remember when that tradition started, but I was the one who started it somehow. My parents had always thought it was irregular, but it seemed normal to me. I poured myself a small glass of milk to go along with my breakfast, and waited for the poptart to get done toasting.
“What’re you doing today?” I asked Chris.
“Just hanging around here,” he answered in a groggy voice.
“Oh. Maybe we could see a movie or something later.”
“Okay.”
The toaster beeped, indicating that my poptart was toasted thoroughly. I spread butter all across the hard crust of the white icing and sat down. I noticed the Thursday paper was sitting just in front of me. The headline on the first page was boring, so I started looking through the layers. One page starting falling out, but I didn’t notice. I dropped the paper down on the table, dissatisfied with the stories. I took a bite of poptart and glanced at it one more time. A small face stared back, a fixed smile on his face. It was Ellis Lennon.
I shook out the portion from the rest of the paper, curious. The rest of his band mates were there, too, and the title read “Local Band Wins Big Gig”.
“What are you looking at?” Chris asked.
“This article about Ellis Lennon’s band. Apparently they have a big gig coming up.”
“Oh.” He sounded interested. “Can I see it?”
“Uh, yeah.” I reluctantly handed it over to him. He scanned the page while sipping his coffee. “They won some contest for a chance to play at the Vine Arena. I guess that’s hard to book or something.”
“When is it?”
“Let’s see…next Friday. You wanna go?”
I really did. I had liked their music a lot, but I didn’t want to seem like a weird fan or something. “Um, I have to see what I’m doing and everything, but I think I’d go, if you went.”
“Yeah, I’d go.” He put down the paper. I wanted to grab it and read it for myself, but I held back.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said. He rose and left without cleaning his cup.
When he was gone, I took the article and went to my bedroom. I read the whole thing once over, paying attention to every detail. Then I went back and read different parts of it to get the information straight.
Their band was called December Breath. I’d somehow missed that when they played at Frisco. They’d competed in a contest that had started in June for a chance to play at the Vine Arena, and then record a demo of three songs. About one hundred small local bands tried out, but only ten made it to the semi-finals. Five made it to the finals, and then people voted for the winner based off of a performance.
“Ha-zel!” My mom called. “Mail!”
I left the paper on my bed and went down to the kitchen.
“Here.” She handed me a thin manila envelope. “It’s from the high school.”
“Oh, thanks.” I ripped it open and pulled out one single paper. It was my schedule for eleventh grade.
I reached for the phone. I had to call my best friend, Cassie. She’d gotten her schedule last week, and I realized we didn’t have any classes together, not even lunch.
“Hello?” I recognized Cassie’s voice.
“Hey, Cass, it’s Hazel.”
“Oh, hey.”
“I just got my schedule, and we don’t really have any classes together.” I said this slowly and regretfully.
She groaned. “You’re kidding me! What lunch period do you have?”
“Fifth.”
“Ugh! I have sixth!”
“I know.” I paused. “Do you have classes with Ryan?” That was her boyfriend since last year.
“Yeah. We have lunch, gym, and math together.” I heard her Mom talking in the background. “Listen, I have to go. My Mom’s yelling at me to go fold laundry.”
“Okay, see ya.”
“Bye.”
That was probably the shortest conversation I’d ever had with her. I was beginning to panic. Cassie was my best friend, one of my only very close friends, and I wasn’t the type of person to have a million other ones to call on. By a stroke of luck we’d always had at least lunch and one class together, but now I wasn’t sure if we’d be as close by the end of the year. She’d have different friends, and so would I. At least I hoped I’d make new friends.
“Do you have classes with Cassie?” My Mom asked. She obviously hadn’t been listening to my previous conversation.
I sighed. “No. Not even lunch.” “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Chris went through the same thing in ninth grade, and he found friends all right. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
It must have been easier for him, though. By the time ninth grade rolls around, you usually find some new friends anyway because of the transition from middle school to high school. I sulked for a minute, but then I heard the water turn off upstairs.
By the time Chris told me I could have the bathroom, I was well ready for a shower. I just stood in the water for a while, letting it beat down on my back and loosening my muscles. I felt like a moody middle school girl because of how I felt about the news. I attempted to be a little optimistic, at the least. I could probably find some acquaintances to sit with at lunch, and getting through classes wouldn’t be that hard.
Reluctantly I shut off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. I wanted to get out of the house as fast as I could, do something exciting. I always knew that to get something off your mind you should stay busy.
Chris and I rode in his car to the movie. We decided to see a superhero movie about a superhero who is in love with his enemy, a beautiful but evil woman. He’s continually tantalized by her because she feints her way through a relationship with him so she can destroy him.
It was packed with special effects and twists, capturing the attention of Chris, but boring me a little. I was more of a comedy person, myself. I’d agreed to go see the movie because I didn’t want to stay in the house and be susceptible to my thoughts, but now I found myself panicking slightly again. As soon as the credits started to roll, I realized I’d missed the whole conclusion to the movie.
“That was great, huh?” Chris stood up.
“It was a little long.” My knees cracked as I rose.
“We have to get that on DVD when it comes out.”
“Mhm.”
Monday, the first of school, was approaching quickly. I was all ready for it to come, except for the part about Cassie. That morning, I showered and ate in the same routine as the previous year, but when it came to getting dressed, I drew a blank.
The first day of school was never a show for me, but it was always nerve racking. About half the girls in the school wore their very best new outfit, but I was never one to care all that much. I eventually decided on an older emerald green sweater. I wanted to feel comfortable today, not scared that I might stain a new shirt. I made an exception with my jeans, though. My old ones had been thrown away because of how often I wore them. I’d worn them to rags, almost. I sighed. The stiff fabric of my new ones would stretch with time, I knew, but I missed the familiarity.
“Hazel, you better hurry. Chris just left.” My mom opened the door a bit to make sure I was ready.
“Okay, I’m going now.”
She smiled at me. “You look great.”
I half-smiled back. “Thanks.”
The school was chaos when I got there. Eager, hyper freshmen were looking at their maps and nervously talking, while seniors stood in clumps, completely at ease. I chuckled to myself as I crossed the parking lot. I remembered myself as a freshman, just two years ago, exactly like the kids today.
“Hey, watch out.” I stopped abruptly. I’d almost run into someone, distracted with my thoughts. I looked up at the voice. It belonged to Ellis Lennon.
“Hey.” He smiled, his eyes amused.
“Sorry,” I breathed. He hadn’t changed since I’d last saw him only a few days ago. He wore a gray long sleeved shirt and casual jeans.
“It’s fine,” he chuckled. “Just be careful here. Next you’ll be walking out in front of a car or something.”
I nervously tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, embarrassed. “Yeah, I tend to get lost in my thoughts a lot.”
He was still smiling. “Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, see ya.” I walked away feeling very stupid.
I found Cassie at her new locker, a hallway away from mine. She was hanging up her backpack in her locker when I came up to her.
“Hey Cass,” I greeted her, leaning against the closed locker next to hers.
“Hey!” She didn’t look my way, but continued to struggle with hanging her backpack.
“I can’t quite seem to get this hooked.” She stooped to see what the problem was. “Oh, got it.”
She stood up again, turning to me with wide eyes. “I saw who you almost ran into a few minutes ago.”
“Ellis Lennon?”
She nodded. “Your face was hysterical.”
“I was embarrassed.”
“He’s cute, don’t you think?”
I’d never fully admitted it before, but I’d always thought very highly of his appearance. “Yeah, he is.”
“Did you know he’s in a band?” she leaned forward. “Yeah, they played at Frisco just last Thursday. And they won some contest thing so they’re playing at the Vine Arena soon.” “I heard about that. You going?”
“Well, Chris wanted to, so I thought I’d go just for something to do.”
“I wish I could go. How much cuter would he be playing an instrument? What does he play, anyway?”
“The bass.”
“Did he get sweaty?”
“Oh my word, Cass, what’s wrong with you? Getting a crush?”
“No!” she shot back defensively. “I’m fully committed to Ryan.”
Cassie had always loved to talk about guys. She was usually quiet, but when it came to the subject she asked a million questions and spoke her mind easily. Of course, it was typical of teenage girls to be like that, but somehow, I’d always been more laid-back about them. I’d had my fair share of crushes, but I’d always fit in with them in a very non-romantic way.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Cassie nagged. I rolled my eyes and said good-bye.
Homeroom was typical for the first day. The teacher introduced himself and informed us about attendance and the announcements, which were being broadcasted over a TV for the first time. He was ecstatic about it, and droned on for the whole ten minutes.
Next I had US History. The teacher was an older man. He looked like he’d been here for at least fifteen years. He gave out all the text books, and we ploughed through a rough outline of what we were going to cover that year. By the time the bell rang, I was dreading history class already.
I had a study hall next, so I relaxed a little. The history teacher didn’t give us homework, but I knew that I’d probably have a small mountain of it by the time the day was done, though it was only the first day. I walked into study hall and scanned the contents of the class. My eyes stopped on the back of a head, his neck scarred. My face burned as I sat down quietly, thinking of the minor embarrassing incident this morning. There were two empty desks near me, one in front of me and one beside me, but the one beside me had books piled on it. I hoped no one would come back to it. I liked it like this, avoiding conversation right now. I was starting to miss Cassie already. The teacher announced we could talk because none of us had homework yet, so I settled into writing a note to her.
About half way through it, someone came to sit in their previously claimed desk. I didn’t look, but I spotted dark hair out of the corner of my eye. I looked to my left instead, the opposite direction of the now occupied desk.
“Oh, hey Hazel.” His voice came from my right.
Slowly I turned to look at him. He sat beside me, poised in the chair, slightly leaning towards me. I noticed his well rounded arm muscles under his shirt. Cassie’s words about him playing an instrument came back to me.
“Hi.” My lips curved into a small smile.
“I hope you didn’t run into anyone else today.”
“No, just you this time.”
“Good. Listen, I wanted to ask you about my band on Thursday night.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Did you like it?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“Which was your favorite song?”
“The one you played for sound check. It was beautiful.”
He looked down at the ground for a second, thinking. His eyes quickly flitted up to me before he spoke again. “Did you hear about that contest we won?”
“Yeah. Good job.”
“Thanks. We get to play at the Vine Arena.”
“Yeah, I read a newspaper article about it. Friday’s the big night, right?”
“Yup.” He paused. “Do you think you might like to come?”
“My brother Chris and I talked about going. I’d like to hear you perform again without being preoccupied with working.”
“That would be great! You guys could even come back stage if you wanted to.” I couldn’t imagine myself back stage, with Blondie and the tough drummer. But I was sure Chris would love to. He’d tried to be in a band when he was younger, but they didn’t stick with it.
“Oh, Chris would like that a lot.” Just then someone called him from across the room, and he excused himself in so many words.
I finished my note to Cassie, not mentioning Ellis. She’d probably have another session of twenty questions about his performance at Frisco. The ball rang soon enough, and I lurched out of my seat, smiling all the down the hall.

Chapter 1

Note: Some of the indents were taken out automatically on here, and I don't feel like fixing it. Just don't get confused.

The familiar neon sign above Club Frisco greeted me as I reached the building. It was hot today, almost too hot for the end of August. It should be getting slowly cooler by now, gearing up for the arrival of fall and eventually winter. Very soon the leaves would change from green to red and orange, and fly down to the earth. From there they would harden into a brown shell, just waiting for a person to step on them and make a satisfying crunch. But for now the green leaves of the summer stayed rooted to their branches, slowly swaying with the ongoing breezes of the day.
I never had enough time to appreciate nature for very long because I was always rushing somewhere. Today I was rushing to work, thinking about what I had to do when I got in. I was already in my uniform, standard black pants and white polo shirt. I needed to put my hair up in a quick ponytail and wipe down the counter before people started flooding in. Then when the band of the night got there, I was to ask if they needed any drinks or food or anything at all, because the Frisco stage was solely theirs tonight and everything was free for them.
Club Frisco was a small place set back in the lush trees of Davie, Florida. I worked at there mostly because of the music. It was fun seeing small bands play every Thursday, which was one of the only times I could work because I wasn’t permitted to serve alcohol. I worked most of the all-ages shows, but Thursday night was directed at teenagers, and every week a new band would be showcased. They were usually intimate shows where the common barrier between band and audience was annihilated.
I reached my counter inside the run-down theater that had been redecorated back in the early ninety’s. It wasn’t the biggest or most modern place, but it was popular among the youth of the county. Thursdays were a big night, at least when there wasn’t a rivalry game or another concert going on.
“Hey, Hazel,” my boss, Michael, walked up to me. He was in his late twenties, and an all around nice guy. “The band’s coming in just a second, so make sure they’re comfortable. They’ll set up everything themselves, and do a quick sound check.” His cell phone started to ring and he walked briskly out the door without looking at me.
I threw my light brown hair up in a ponytail and got to work wiping the counter. Very soon a group of four young guys walked in carrying equipment and instruments, and I assumed that this was the band. They took to assembling their things, playing small bits of music now and then to test out the sound.
I studied them, trying to decide exactly what music they were going to play. They seemed like a typical band, complete with an electric guitar, bass guitar, acoustic guitar, a drum set, and plenty of microphones.
One sat a little in front of the others cradling an acoustic guitar while sitting on a stool. I judged he was probably the lead singer. He had shaggy blond hair with dark roots and the beginnings of a five o’ clock shadow. He looked like the oldest, especially since the other’s faces were clean shaven.
Another was presumably the youngest, his face a little chubby and bumpy. He had spiky brown hair, average brown eyes, and an electric guitar was draped over his shoulder.
The drummer had a red handkerchief tied around his straight black hair, and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He was the perfect picture of a grungy rocker in a garage band, though he didn’t look intimidating.
The last I noticed was a boy I recognized from my high school, who played the bass. I was almost sure he didn’t know who I was, but I remembered him because he had been in a car accident last year. Though I should’ve, I couldn’t recall his name as I searched his face. He had dark brown hair that rained down on his forehead in V’s and swished over to his left ear effortlessly. He stood out a little because he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, contrasting the others who wore thin t-shirts. I didn’t know how someone could bear to wear something warm today of all days, but I swiftly remembered Michael’s instructions and stepped out from the counter.
“Hey guys, welcome to Frisco. Is there anything I can get you, like a soda or something?”
“I’m okay,” the blonde front man said quickly. He looked back at the others. “What about you guys?”
“I’ll take a Sprite,” the drummer called clearly. I was a little surprised at his voice. I’d expected more of a tough mumble to roll out of his mouth, instead of a voice clear as a bell.
“Okay. Anything to eat?” They all shook their heads slowly, except for the brown haired one with boyish cheeks, who looked down at his guitar shyly.
I nodded and walked off the raised portion of the room (Michael claimed this was the stage) where they’d set up. I felt a pair of eyes on me, maybe two, as I walked away to get the soda.
When I returned holding the drink, the drummer and bassist were perched on stools echoing the curve of the counter, and the other two were gone. I set the Sprite in front of the black haired one, quietly announcing “Here you go.”
“Uh, I kind of changed my mind,” the boy I recognized spoke up. “Could I have a Coke?”
I nodded and turned to get it. This time when I arrived, the blonde was up on the stage at the other end of the room. He strummed his acoustic guitar quietly. It was a pretty tune, a likeable one. I gave the Coke to the boy, and continued wiping the table. I was very aware of the boys sitting at the counter, feeling like they were watching me as I worked.
After a few moments, the brown haired boy spoke to me again. “Do you go to Nova High?”
I was closer now, inching my way around to where he was. “Yep. You’re the one who got in that car wreck last year, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me. My name’s Ellis.”
“I’m Hazel.” I smiled. “It’s cool you’re in a band.”
“Thanks.” Silence ensued. “You’re going into eleventh grade?” He piped up.
I nodded.
“Me too. I’ll probably see you in the halls or something, then.” He took a swig of his drink, and rose.
Since the band was almost completely assembled, I left them to do a sound check while I greeted the kids who were coming in the main door. I could usually predict what the band was like by the people who came to their shows. There was a mix of different stereotypes, like preps, punks, skaters, and jocks, but they all seemed like serious people. There weren’t any screaming girls, who came mostly to the shows where gorgeous boy bands played upbeat pop rock music. They weren’t talking in loud, excited voices, but their words mixed together in a swell of voices.
There weren’t many of them, and they didn’t seem to be the type of audience that would be rowdy, so I didn’t waste time watching. I slipped back in the room where the band was. They were practicing a song highlighted with simple guitar melodies and smooth tenor vocals. The blonde was still sitting on his stool with his guitar, now with a microphone bending towards his mouth. Very casually I started to clean the soda machine to pass the time, something I usually did when the conversation turned to an awkward silence to give the hint that I had to keep working. It had become a habit I supposed, and I was still wiping when the song finished.
“How was that?” the lead called out to me.
I turned, surprised. “I liked it.”
The whole band grinned at me. “Good,” he said. “That’s our favorite to play live.”
Suddenly Michael stumbled in the room, probably rushing to get everything just right. “Hazel, did you offer them anything?” He said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, thanks.” He turned to the stage. “Do you guys want the audience standing or do you want chairs and tables?”
Blondie sucked air through his teeth in thought. “How about half and half?”
“Sounds good. Hazel, can you get on that?” He didn’t look to see if I’d heard him again, and shuffled out.
I dropped the rag on the counter and headed for the closet at the back of the room. Stored there were black folding chairs, tables, and tablecloths. I proceeded to unload a table, and heard sounds of instruments being put down and footsteps heading my way. I swiveled to place the table, and sure enough the band was coming over to help.
“Thanks, guys. You really don’t have to help me, you know.”
The drummer shrugged. “It’s cool.”
I didn’t protest after that. The room was all ready in about five minutes. If I’d done it all myself, it could have dragged on for about fifteen. During this, I couldn’t help but stare at a scar on the back of Ellis’s neck. He must have gotten in the wreck. Instantly my mind was filled with a ghastly picture of Ellis with a piece of glass wedged in his skin. I shivered.
“Um, do you want anything else to drink?”
“Do you have water?” Blondie asked.
“Yeah.” I answered. Ellis came up behind him. I noticed a V of sweat beginning to form below his neck. He hadn’t even rolled up his sleeves yet. “How many?”
“Four, please.”
I got them their water, and then kids started pouring in. Quite a crowd had amounted since I’d seen them last. Kids started forming a mass in front of the stage, where the band was adjusting their amps. A drum beat rolled out from the stage, and the throng started to cheer and jump a little.
The lead singer had changed his acoustic guitar to electric. He cranked out the opening chords, accompanied by bass and another guitar. The light dimmed slowly. A few costumers appeared in front of counter, which kept me from fully listening to the music. It was annoying not being able to enjoy it, but that was the price I had paid to work here.
The line thinned for a moment, and I took the opportunity to rest my elbow on the counter. Absentmindedly I twirled my fingers around the now dirty rag I used to wipe everything. The upbeat song the band had been playing stopped, and the front man, Blondie, leaned in towards the microphone.
“This next one is about a girl who broke up me,” he smiled. “It’s our favorite to play live, and I think you’ll see why.”
He grabbed his acoustic and plucked out some notes while the other guitarist strummed his guitar. I recognized it as the one I’d heard earlier. Blondie caught my eye and started to sing the first line. He winked at me before he turned his head to look at another audience member. I didn’t know if that was considered flirting or not, but I hoped it wasn’t. I hoped it was just to remind me that this was the song I’d said I liked.
At the chorus I noticed Ellis had a microphone, too, and he was singing a beautiful, haunting harmony. The crowd was silent, but someone got the idea to sway their cell phone, and pretty soon the whole audience was swinging with the beat.
This was the longest by far, almost stretching to five minutes, but it never got boring. Blondie sang it perfectly, like a tortured madman in love. But it was really Ellis who caught my attention by singing that melancholy harmony part. It was so intricately woven with the happy melody that it weighed it down and made it sound sad, like it was supposed to. That was what made the song so intriguing, the happy mixed with the sad, opposites melding into one.
In a flash it was over, and the lights turned up. I was shocked at how fast it had gone by. People started flooding out, and the band sucked down their water. I hurriedly brought them four more bottles. Each boy tossed in a smile to me before downing the liquid.
They were all very sweaty, but Ellis was the exception. His shirt was soaked, along with his hair, but he never even rolled up his sleeves. I thought it was a little peculiar, but the thought was squeezed out of my mind when a line of customers were waiting for me when I returned to the counter.
Ten minutes later, everyone was out and the band was tearing down. Michael walked in, no longer a bundle of nerves, and started to help.
“Hey, Hazel,” he flicked his head towards the rest of the stuff waiting to be put away. “Can you help?”
I nodded and walked over. I looked over what was left, trying to decide what I would be most likely to do the least damage to.
“You wanna put away the mics?” I turned around. The tough drummer was standing there, holding a foam box with six holes punched through it. Two of the holes were filled up with microphones, but only their criss-crossed heads showed.
“You just take them from their stands and put them in here, just like the other two.”
“Okay.” I sounded a little unsure of myself. “I think I can do that without hurting anything.”
He chuckled. “Sure you can.” He handed me the foam box and watched me do the first one.
“There, just like that. You’ll be fine.” He flashed me another smile and walked to disassemble the drum set.
I cautiously stepped around the equipment still standing, grabbing microphones and gently slipping them into a hole. I did it slowly, afraid I’d mess something up one way or another. By the time I was finished, everything was put away. I handed the box back over to the drummer.
“Well, thanks for everything,” he said to me. He waved awkwardly and started out the door.
When I got out to my little silver car, it was raining. It was a typical humid Florida night, so the moisture cooled my skin as it fell on me. For once, I didn’t regret not having an umbrella with me. I looked up at the sky. Thick clouds looking like they were dipped in purple and navy blue paint were suspended high above my head. Just then a large raindrop hit my eye. I immediately lowered my head, my hand on my eyelid. I shook my head and unlocked my car.
When I walked in the door, my older brother of one year, was there drinking a glass of milk. I tossed my keys on the table and headed to get a granola bar.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Hey. How was work?”
“Fine. There was a guy from school in the band.”
“Oh. Who was that?”
“Um, he said his name was Ellis. He got in that car wreck last year, remember?”
“Ellis Lennon. Yeah, I know him. Nice guy.” He gulped down the rest of his milk. “Well, I’m gonna hit the sack.”
“Already? It’s like, almost the last week of summer. You’re supposed to enjoy staying up late.”
“I’m trying to get in the habit again. One last year.” He grinned.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
I followed him up the stairs, but as he turned in his room I went to mine. It was only ten o’ clock, and I wasn’t tired yet. I sighed. I’d miss summer, with its hot days filled with free time and leisure. I had no reason to stay up late tonight. I gave up quickly and went to sleep.

Ellis (Blog Preview)

Ellis Lennon: Mysterious bassist with a strange "condition".
Hazel Tamblyn: Average girl going through the motions of being a teenager.

And this is where my story finds them: ready for something new. This isn't going to be the typical romance story, unlike the ones where the guy is perfect and doesn't have anything he struggles with. Though, I'm warning you, it may be cheesy at times, you just might like it.

Ellis is what I've been saving it as on my computer, but as of right now, it's doesn't have a title.
This is where I'm going to be directing anyone who wants to read this untitled piece, save for the few close friends who'll read it before I post. Please note that this will be somewhat rough, meaning it's not edited and everything is subject to change. Feel free to correct any grammatical errors in your comments. They'll be well-received and considered. =] That's all for now. I'll post chapters every time I finish one. Thanks, everyone.

Deb