"Happy Birthday to you," Lucas' family and friends sung in discord.

"Make a wish," his mother shouted as she stood behind his tall friends. Lucas closed his eyes and paused, wishing. He was in the backyard of his house on the patio near his pool. Lucas, Carvington, Leonardo, and Lucas' little sister had already swum in the pool for over an hour. By the time his mother called them out of the pool to eat, they were all sopping wet. However, as droplets of water leaked from his hair, he thought only of Drake. Though Carv respected Lucas' wishes and didn't fight him, the interaction embarrassed him. If he wasn't ignored at school, he was being chewed out by Drake for cash. There had to be more to his life than this. At least, he hoped so.

He took a deep breath and blew out the seventeen flickering candles shoved inside of the yellow sheet cake. He opened his eyes as they cheered for him. They quickly divided the cake among themselves and began to dig in.

"I don't care how it ended, she should've been with Jacob," Laura, Lucas' preteen sister, protested.

"But he's a creepy pedo," Leo countered. "Didn't he fall in love with her newborn." Lucas was beginning to get annoyed with their conversation. They were in a heated debate about some novel Lucas never cared for. He walked over to the edge of the pool and sat down, dipping his feet in the cool chlorinated water. Kicking his feet, the shimmering image of the full moon was disturbed, then lost. He let out a groan and flopped his back on the grass surrounding the pool, looking to the sky.

"You good?" Carv asked as he swam up to Lucas' feet, staring at the distressed teen.

"Yeah," he muttered. "What's wrong with me, man?"

Carvington pursed his lips and climbed out of the pool, the sound of him tearing the pool heavy struck his ears. He settled on the edge of the pool, his feet dropped in the water. "Why do you think there is something wrong with you?"

"I can't seem to do anything right. I mean, why'd I have to be such an ass to Drake today. You wouldn't have pushed him if I hadn't."

"Drake is the ass. If he did not push you, I would not have pushed him."

"That's not the point." Carvington turned to look at Lucas' glazed hazel eyes. "There has to be something more to life than this."

"Like what?"

"A purpose."

"What about the library?"

"That's now. What will I do once I've finished them all? Read them again? I just-I feel like there has to be more than this." Carvington remained silent looking up at the waning moon. "This can't be it, can it? Is this as good as it gets?" As a breeze came, freezing his wet skin, summoning bumps to rise on his exposed flesh. "Ever feel like you didn't belong somewhere?" The question hung in the air. An unsettling silence falling to the world around them. Perhaps the night was swallowing his question, hoarding the answers.

Carvington's chuckled stung Lucas' ears, snapping him back to the noise of his small party. "When I moved here from my country, I barely spoke English. I came here to live with an aunt and an uncle I had never met before, and I attended an American school as soon as I got here. It has been very easy for me."

Lucas cracked a wistful smile. "You're doing better than I ever could."

Carvington looked back and flopped down on the grass next to his friend. "I will give you some words from my father." Lucas turned his head to look at Carvington who was too focused on the sky to notice. "Seventeen is a very important age. Where I am from, seventeen is an age of independence. Here, you get a license that gives you driving freedom. My father always said at seventeen there is much to come. Independence comes with benefits, but a hefty price if you force it. As for a purpose, it should come with time."

Lucas mulled over his words, and Carvington studied the sky. The silence was a virtue of their kind of friendship. "Boys, it's almost 10," Mrs. Tathern called. "You need to start heading home now."

"Ok," Carvington and Leonardo replied.

"See you at school," Carvington said to Lucas as he moved to grab his Texas sweatshirt from a chair.

"Are your aunt and uncle already here?" Lucas asked.

"No," Carvington said as he slipped the sweatshirt over his head. "I am walking home."

"Are you sure," Lucas questioned. It was rather late for a stroll in the neighborhood. Carvington hummed his response as he squeezed out the water out of his hair with a towel.

"I will be fine."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night was silent. After leaving Lucas' party, the stillness of the night struck Carvington's ears. His footsteps echoed with each hollow tap of his heels on the sidewalk. He briskly marched from each yellow pools as he walked under the street lights. The crisp air nipped at his partially damp skin, and his soaked hair didn't help. Luckily, Laura gave him a hair tie to keep his sopping locks off his neck. He quickened his pace. If he didn't get home soon, he was sure he might catch a cold.

His steady pounding footsteps were soon joined by another. No one else was even on the road during his late night walk. He slowed his pace and glanced over his shoulder from the corner of his eyes. The foreign steps disappeared. Nothing, except the pool of light, were behind him.

His focused returned to what was in front of him, proceeding with caution. He listened to the cricket, the sound of his stride, and a clunking sound that joined in. He dived to the cement ground. The shining object that he barely dodged clanged against the hard cement. He looked back to find his attacker, a man.

A stocky brunette man calmly stalked towards Carvington, the boy clumsily clambered towards the shiny object, a kitchen knife. The man must have been a crazy townie. He dressed in a buttoned-up shirt and plain jeans similar to the drinkers at the bar down the road. Carvington found his way to his feet pointing the sharp end towards the man, his hand quivering. The man halted his movement, his eyes were transfixed on the wobbling end of the blade. His heart drummed his ribcage at a quickened pace. "Please, leave me alone," the boy demanded. "I do not want any trouble."

He lifted his calculating stare to the teen's face. "Neither do I," the man said as a round piece of wood swayed from a black thread attached hanging from his neck. Carvington watched as the charm swayed.

"Did Maconn send you?" he asked as he loosened his grip on the blade. "My father told him I'm not dead. I do not require assistance."

The corner of the mysterious man's mouth curled up. He clicked in tongue, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm. "Not quite, but I would love to see him." He held up the inside of his wrist showing a small black tattoo to the teen. The tattoo was a black circle with a snake looped around a hare inside. Carvington tightened his grasp on the blade as his eyes widened. This man was no ordinary drunk townie.

"Stay away from him," the teen spat. The man shrugged as he stalked towards the teen. Carvington began to slowly back away with each step the man took. The tempo of his heart skipped a beat before accelerating.

"You see, I can't do that. I need him."

"You can not take him."

"Not with you around." The man stopped, bringing his feet together, standing tall, and studied the teen with his gaze. "I guess I'll just have to get rid of you."

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