Before:

"Will you be okay?" She felt the need to clarify.

"Sure," Keefe reassured her. "I'm me, after all."

Sophie laughed and handed him the crystal. He held it up to the light streaming through the windows in her room, but before he stepped into the light, he said,

"And, Ruewen? I missed you too."

Then he stepped into the light and glittered away.

Keefe woke up without a memory of falling asleep. He'd blinked... and it was morning.

He groaned, remembering what had happened the night before and who had come over.

Why did Alden have to interfere anyway? Why did he care so much?

He groaned even harder when he remembered he had to hail Fitz.

And Biana would probably continue to bug him about Sophie.

DARN THE VACKERS.

Except Alvar and Della. They were fine. And NON-INTERFERING unlike some of the OTHER Vackers he knew.

Keefe buried his face in his pillow.

Why did his life have to be so messed up?

Just to make matters worse, he heard his parents arguing downstairs.

Great.

They were home.

Just what he needed.

Prolonging the misery would only make it worse, so Keefe shuffled out of bed and pulled on his school uniform. He pinned his stupid cape on with his macot pin, and went into the bathroom to style his hair.

But for the first time in a VERY long time, he just didn't have the energy. He had to make sure he seemed fine, though, so he used his usual hair products and messed up his hair, perhaps not quite as perfectly as usual, but passable.

He picked up his bag... and stopped. He would have to talk to Fitz after school.

He continued to walk forward. Maybe if he stayed quiet, his parents wouldn't notice he was there and he could sneak past them to the Leapmaster.

Unfortunately, when he tiptoes downstairs, his parents were standing right in the room connecting to the Leapmaster's. It looked as though Cassius was trying to use it to go somewhere, but Gisela had grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stay put.

Keefe tried to slink past them. He'd never wished that he were a Vanisher more. Yet another part of his life that might be better had he been a Vacker.

Because his luck was just that bad, Cassius spotted him as he tried to sneak by.

"Where are you going?" He asked suspiciously.

"To school," Keefe informed him. "Have to get my education and make you look good, right?"

"Right, like you care about your education," Cassius snorted. "I expect that I'll get another detention slip, or a hail that you've missed more classes."

"Good! Now you won't be surprised!" Keefe smirked, hoping Cassius could feel the waves of hate Keefe was sending him.

"Look, I don't have the energy to fight right now. I have a meeting with a friend right now."

It was Keefe's turn to snort. He was surprised Cassius had friends. Maybe he treated them better than his son. He knew better than to say that out loud, though. Right now, he just had to get out of there as fast as he could.

"I should be leaving now, unless you want me to add another tardy to my tally?" Keefe hope hope hoped that would be enough. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes Cassius kept him to yell at him for a while longer.

"Fine," Cassius sighed. "But we will be revisiting this when you get home."

If you're home when I get back. 

Keefe almost said the words out loud, but thought better of it, and the shape his mouth formed didn't match the words that eventually came out. "Looking forward to it." He knew that his smile was too strained, but he couldn't make himself feel more sincere. He made his way towards the Leapmaster, making sure to brush Cassius's arm, wrinkling his pristine shirt and giving him a taste of the fury he was hiding.

Keefe arrived at Foxfire just as the first bells were chiming. He swore under his breath. Of course, now he didn't have time to go to his locker before his favorite class. The only class he was able to see her.

PE.

But maybe this would be better. He had to limit his contact with her, draw away, distance himself, no matter how much it hurt him.

He didn't want to make Alden's mistake.

He ran towards the gym, cursing the weight of his bag. He slipped into the locker room, which was empty, and quickly changed into his clothes.

They were black, which suited his feelings perfectly.

He pasted his usual smirk on his face and ran into the gym.

"Fear not, the king has arrived!" he shouted, running a lap around the gym before getting into his normal place next to Fitz.

"Why were you late?" Despite being the one asking the question, Fitz sounded as though he knew the answer.

"Eh, just some fangirls telling me how awesome I am. You know, same old, same old. I mean, I don't BLAME them... but it gets tiring after a while." Keefe tousled his hair.

"Okay, whatever," Fitz rolled his eyes. But he patted Keefe's arm, and the empath knew that Fitz was perfectly aware of why he was late.

"Attention, prodigies!" Lady Lycra clapped her hands. She was the Mentor for the level sixes, and while she wasn't exactly mean, she wasn't the nicest person ever. Her tight blond bun that reminded Keefe of his mom's was always pristine, somehow remaining in place throughout sprints and pull-ups, and her cyan eyes cut Keefe right to the bone. She was one of the reasons besides Sophie he almost always went to this class.

"Today, we will be having a review course for channeling!" Sir Warrick announced. He was okay, although very intimidating, with his huge chest, gigantic muscles, and dark blue, almost black eyes.

The class groaned.

"Remember, midterms are next week! You should be trying to get a good grade!" Lycra reminded them. "Now, split into groups and begin!"

She clapped again, and Fitz immediately turned to Keefe. "Wanna team up?"

"Aw, Fitzy, I knew you couldn't live without me!" Keefe smiled. He was dreading the words that would come next, and Fitz delivered perfectly.

"Actually, we need to talk." The teal eyes that Keefe wished he had bored into Keefe's brain. He would have preferred anyone else to be staring at him like that, even his dad.

"Fine, whatever," Keefe tried to stall him for as long as he could. Maybe if class ended, he could put off this conversation forever! "Trying to tell me how awesome I am? Thanks, but I already know."

"Keefe, stop," Fitz rolled his eyes again, this time for real. "We do have to talk."

"Fine, but can we do it later? I have to practice my channeling." Keefe knew it was a weak excuse, and so did Fitz, but it worked.

"I don't feel like doing this now, so fine. But I will be hailing you later," Fitz warned.

"I know." Hailing was a lot better than talking in person. Fitz wouldn't be able to see Keefe's body language, and if worse came to worse, he wouldn't be able to read his mind. Unfortunately, that also meant that Keefe wouldn't be able to judge Fitz's emotions to see how mad he was. He also wouldn't be able to stop Fitz from hanging up.

But it was better than being in person.

...

Keefe got through the rest of the day.

He didn't know how.

He tried to remember what Alden had said. He tried to stay away from her. He tried to avoid Biana's questions, Fitz's reminders, Tam's hints, and most of all, Sophie.

It was painful, turning away from her smiles. It hurt him, to have to walk away when he saw her coming. It was like fire being poured on his eyes, watching her with Fitz, watching them laughing and hugging and holding hands and sneaking away to steal kisses.

But he withstood it.

He was no stranger to pain.

He ditched whenever he could. Classes were torture, only reminding him of what a disappointment he was. He went to empathy, but that was it.

And eventually, the day ended. However painful school had been, he knew it would be worse going home, having to stand there while his father shouted and his mother watched and he stood there, his heart splintering into a million pieces.

So he didn't go home.

He couldn't go to Everglen with Biana's loaded glances and Alden's 'advice' and Fitz's warnings and Della's smiles and Alvar's teases.

He didn't belong there.

He couldn't go to Havenfield, with Sophie and her family being so loving and perfect. Plus the whole spending less time with her thing.

Keefe ignored the shards of pain sinking under his skin.

He was used to them, too.

He couldn't go to any of his other friends' houses. He usually didn't hang out with them one on one anyway. His closest friends had always been Fitz and Biana and Sophie, anyway.

So he just leaped to a random meadow, somewhere.

He didn't care where.

Anywhere was better than his house.

He sat down in the meadow and took out his homework. He spared it one glance before setting it aside. Even he wasn't THAT desperate.

He took out his drawing notebook and supplies instead. He had to pass the time until Fitz hailed him somehow.

Keefe opened the notebook. He had gotten it years ago, when he first started drawing.

It was gold yellow, the color of her hair when the sunlight hit it. He was going to get turquoise, but he thought that might have been too obvious.

It wasn't his favorite color, anyway.

He wasn't the kind of person whose crush's eyes became their favorite color.

He wasn't THAT pathetic.

He turned to the first page, smiling when he saw what the first drawing was.

A flower.

It was simple, really. The first drawing he had ever made. It was attached to the inside of the notebook, because soon after he had made it, Sophie had noticed and gotten him the notebook.

She got him gold, his favorite color.

It was his favorite because of the goblin's capital city, Gildingham. A bodyguard (he didn't remember who's) had told him that the legendary city of gold was built with gold because it was a weak metal. They built with it because while gold was weak, they were strong. They didn't need powerful shelters to protect them, because they could protect themselves.

Keefe wanted to be like that.

He didn't want to have to be protected by people or things who were stronger than he was.

And even though he'd never told her his favorite color, that's what she got him anyway.

He turned to the next page.

It was a picture of his mother.

He blinked away tears. At that time, he had still believed his mother loved him. He had tried everything: doing everything she said, wearing clothes she suggested, even cleaning her room and the rest of the house, all to impress her.

When that didn't work, he turned to breaking the rules instead of following them. Pranks, jokes, ditching. Doing whatever he could to get her attention, even when it was negative attention. He just wanted her to notice him. He even pulled off his biggest prank, which history called the Great Gulon Incident, to make her notice. To make her express some love towards her son.

But she didn't care about him.

No one did.

He ripped out the page and crumpled it up, throwing it as far as his channeled arm muscles could handle.

He turned the page.

It was a drawing of the view outside his window. It was beautiful, with colorful trees and flowers, and an imp resting on one of the branches. The sky was blue, and the sun cast down on the dew sparkling on the perfectly trimmed grass.

But it was a reminder of the prison he lived in.

He tore that out, too.

The next drawing was of all his friends together. He'd made one version for Sophie, and kept another for himself. It was his finals gift to her last year.

He left the page there.

The next page was a picture of Sophie.

It was of the day they met.

Keefe was sitting in his favorite ditching spot, and Sophie was lost. She had entered the hallway, and Keefe had felt her emotions wafting towards him, stronger than anything he had felt before.

He wasn't going to say that it had been love at first sight or anything cheesy like that, but he'd definitely felt something. Maybe she was just cute.

He wasn't sure anymore.

He was pretty sure the day he had actually, without a doubt, fallen for her was one day when his dad had just yelled at him. He'd gone to school immediately afterward, and she had picked up on his mood.

He would never forget what she had said.

"Lots of people care about you, Keefe," Sophie had told him, her eyes large with concern. And the emotions he had felt had told him that she wasn't lying. She believed what she had said.

He tried to remember that. He'd even drawn it. He was about to flip through to find it when his imparter went off.

Keefe checked who it was. It was Fitz.

The dreaded conversation was going to start now.

sO sAd

Taking a nice, depressing trip down memory lane...

Poor Keefe

It'll work out for him... eventually