Zach only smiled at the sprightly female in glee.

"Well, I better get going. Wouldn't want to keep your father waiting." Zach explained, grabbing his coat while putting on his gloves.

"Yeah." Carrie replied, giving Zach a closed-eye smile.

Zach walked out of his room to only silently close the wooden slab shut as he continued to stare at his friend.

She gave him a nervous smile as he started to make his way down the illusive hallway. He could only just give her a worried smile. Carrie gave him a thumbs-up.

Zach silently walked down the long, pale hallway.

Zach then reached the door. Hesitantly, he reached for the doorknob and turned the sleek golden surface.

The door opened with ease, but made a loud creaking noise as it did so.

Zach, nervously walked inside the office slowly, for the sake of the atmosphere that the room emitted. 

It was pretty small for an office, with green walls decorated with various pictures of him and his daughter Carrie. And strangely enough...

Several pictures of Zach as well. Well, not very strange as cute. Zach was considered to be the headmaster's own son if they didn't know better. In the back, lingered a long dark oak desk with a black telephone that reminded Zach of the older telephones in the movies, sat there. Next to the phone, various documents were laid out. Documents for adoptions, bills, etc.

Behind that desk though, there was a large and wide dark brown chair.

That was a perk if Jack. Nobody knows what he looks like, with the exceptions of Zach, his daughter Carrie, and the employees. Any other that saw him never seemed the same after they came out.

Zach gulped slightly as he closed the door. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jack held out a hand to stop him.

He moved his hand out as a gesture to sit down. Zach just stood his ground.

"Sit down Zachary. Or is it Zach? I can't remember." Jack's monotone voice came from behind the chair.

Zach sat down quietly while replying "It's just Zach."

Zach could tell that Jack smiled. "We have so much to talk about."

Zach gulped nervously.
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Melissa just meandered around the house as her family packed sack lunches.

She just sat silently on the couch as she did so, not wanting to be disturbed.

She just let her mind flow through the countless memories that she made.

She honestly obtained no clues as to why she decided to return home. But for some reason, she felt as though she was needed to be with them.

She shut her eyes even tighter as she continued to hear the soft footsteps of her own family.

She continued to listen to her own heartbeat, clearing her mind.

She was in deep thought when she heard something.

Somebody was gliding slowly towards her.

She reacted quickly, letting instinct take over. She threw the person over her shoulder quickly onto the small wooden table in front of her.

"Ouch!" said the voice. She hesitantly opened her eyes slowly.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know..." she started. She shakily released her grip and fell back onto the couch, covering her face with her hands.

"Two years on the streets sure has made you more... Aggressive..." her sister, Kaitlin, sat up, rubbing her back gingerly.

Melissa just continued to sulk on the couch, trying to stifle the tears that were forming.

"How could I do this? To my own sister too..." she managed quietly, but loud enough for Kaitlin to hear.

"Hey..." Kaitlin stated, patting her sister's back reassuringly, "Its alright. I'm fine..."

Melissa just ignored Kaitlin, and started to raise herself off the couch slowly, raising her arms to stretch them out.

"So..." Melissa stated, glancing to one side to view her sister, "What is it? What'd you want?"

Kaitlin hesitated for a moment before answering "Well, Dad wants to se-" she was interrupted by Melissa slamming her fist into a wall. Kaitlin shut her eyes and gasped sharply.

Melissa took a moment before replying with a forced smile "Okay. When?"

"N-Now." Kaitlin replied, her hands shaking uncontrollably and her gaze averted to the ground.

"Oh. Okay. I'll be there shortly." she hastily replied. Kaitlin nodded and nary a word, Kaitlin ran frantically out of the room.

'Geez,' Melissa thought, 'Well, I guess I must be really intimidating.'

She vowed to herself that she would try harder to be nice. She stood up slowly, yawning as she did so. Rubbing her eyes, she allowed her feet to guide her weary self into the kitchen, where she gazed upon Kaitlin's familiar black hair. She smiled at her shyly.

Her father, with his black curls, sat himself in a black high chair next to the marble counter, positioned so it looked as though he was Mr. Thinker from her favorite movie, Night At The Museum: Battle Of The Smithsonian. His weary green eyes, as green as the leaves on the trees, hid themselves behind his rectangular glasses. They scrutinized over a document that he held in his hands. He wore a blue and green button-down shirt with black jeans that obtained a hole in the knee. She stared at him, wondering what he was doing home in the morning, due to the fact that he worked as a detective for the SFPD, and he was on a case currently.

Her mother, however, stood next to the fridge, leaning on it. Her long, brown hair was kept in a ponytail that curled around her left shoulder. She wore an elegant white blouse and brown shorts that were rolled up to her knee to give it that appearance. Her mother worked at an auto-shop that was located 6 blocks away. She wiped her batter-caked hands dry on a nearby kitchen towel.

Kaitlin just sat in a wooden chair in the nearby table, short and wooden. Her short, black hair was held back with a small, bright blue headband. She wore a pink T-shirt that had the sleeves cut off and a set of short cackys that reached past her knees and stopped halfway down her shins. Her shins were covered with mud and grass stains all over.

Melissa laughed at this thought mildly. "So..." she broke the silence, "What is it you wanted to see me for?"

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Dylan continued to wander around the house, cleaning and tidying it all up.

And, after a half-hour the house was spotless. Spick-and-span clean.

"Perfect." he stated as he slapped his hands up and down to clean off the minuscule amounts of dust.

He grinned as he scanned around the area, formally the gnarly-looking kitchen. The previous night, his family had tacos, and thus the large mess in the kitchen. 

He then pondered for a moment, wondering what he would do now. He glanced at the clock, which read 5:39 A.M. He couldn't fall back asleep now, he had been awake too long.

He decided that he would start breakfast for his family. He smirked.

-Time skip-

Dylan decided that after he put in the dish and set the timer on he would get dressed because, by golly, he was a messy person with noticeable blond hair.

So Dylan sprinted up the stairs quickly but quietly, not desiring to wake up any of his folks up at an early part of the morning. He quickly ran into his closet, grabbing his gray T-shirt, bright sky blue jacket, black shorts, and his gloves.

He quickly changed out of his clothes and put on his new ones. 

And he rushed down back into the kitchen to take out what he had made.

-Time skip 2 hours-

Dylan tapped his fingers rhythmically.His fingers drummed the cold, barren, solid oak table when he noticed something different.

He saw someone.

"M-Mom?" he exclaimed. His proclaimed mother held a finger to his mouth, silencing the protest that she knew would come out of his mouth. 

"I don't care about what you'll say right now. It's alright." she replied, eyes shut and her smile bursting through the darkness. Dylan let out a nervous chuckle, his face was that of a startled monkey watching The Visit. And ye, was that movie considered to be a classic.

"So... Why don't you tell me why then why you're up so early?" his mother asked.

Dylan gulped at the sudden question.

"W-w-well... I... Um..." he started, "I wanted to be up early because I wanted to prepared for today."

"What're we doing today then?"she inquired.

Dylan hesitated for a moment. 'Should I tell her... Well, I must tell her...'

"I know that we're heading somewhere today.."

His mother's smile faded into a look of disappointment. "That was supposed to be a surprise..."