The following day, Aimee was ready for school bright and early, as always. She found Stefan waiting in the driveway, in his glossy New Beetle, and his charming smile shone through the rainbow of reflections in the windscreen.

"I'm thinking of Bert," said Aimee enigmatically. "It's an appropriate name for a car, right? I mean, he even looks like a Bert."

Aimee was dressed in dark-wash jeans, her black-and-white print top that cascaded off her shoulders. Those old and muddied black sneakers of hers stepped into the car, and she glimpsed at Stefan. He was still smiling at her, scanning her attire.

"What?" she queried shyly.

"Nothing... I just like what you're wearing," he chuckled, but he was honest. He eyed her sneakers especially.

She looked at them and giggled, "Thanks. I do, too."

He pulled out of the driveway and up the streets to Ulysses S, his hands tight on the wheel, and his eyes upon Aimee every now and again. He knew how she felt about school – he'd gotten used to her wearing hoodies and the same pair of jeans three days in a row – but that Monday was different, she was not deflated.

Stefan and Aimee walked hand-in-hand into the school. They still received those opinionated stares from their peers, but the measure of those stares had died down considerably. They collected some books from their lockers and strolled through the halls, but before they could wane into their separate classes, Stefan caught her at the waist. Their bodies were hardly an inch apart when he gazed upon her and kissed her sweetly on the forehead.

"I'll see you at our tree," he whispered.

Stefan's classmates rushed out of the door at the sound of the bell, before their bags were even on their backs, and he called Emma. They stayed inside the classroom, avoiding the hallways that struggled to contain the outpour of students who somehow always seemed dangerous during recess.

"What's up?" she greeted him kindly, but one could tell that she felt uncomfortable speaking to him.

"Are you busy on Saturday?" he asked.

She ogled him nervously, but she could guess by the way he checked the traffic of teenagers that he was in somewhat of a hurry. Or maybe he was just as discomforted as she was.

"No," she replied. "Unless Kirkwood decides we'll be practising, but that's unlikely. We haven't had a real practise since the league ended, he's just been drilling us during P.T, but that's not the same, you know?"

Stefan's eyebrows rose at her sudden sociability. "I'll pick you up at twelve," he said simply and turned away.

"Wait," she quickly pulled him back, fixed in confusion, "what the hell is this about? Are you asking me out?"

"Aimee. This weirdness has to end and I'll take you to her myself if I have to."

Her grip on his shirt loosened, the expression in her eyes changed and her entire body froze. "I know. I know I should apologise, but –"

"Emma!" Kirsten sang her name from within the sea of students, merging and yet standing out.

"I've gotta go," Emma told Stefan.

"If you think she hates you, you're wrong," he told her, his eyebrows drew close as a mark of sympathy. "Come with me Saturday, we can fix this."

Emma refused, fleeing hastily into the crowd. "I'm sorry."

"Emma, she needs you!"

She slowed her steps for a moment, but did not stop. When Kirsten asked about their conversation, Emma simply shook her head.

Stefan watched her walk off with her new clique, her high ponytail bouncing with Kirsten's. As disenchanted as he felt by Emma's reluctance, Stefan clenched to the faith that she'd come around. He prayed that she would.

Stefan found his way to Aimee and their tree, where they sat on the soil and leaned against the bark. Aimee was stretching out her legs when a flower petal floated down past her eyes, and she admired it for a moment, and then raised her head to observe the network of tree branches above them.

"It's a beautiful tree," whispered Stefan.

Soon enough, the bell was ringing with the end of recess, but not a word was said about it – the bell stopped ringing, but neither of them stood up. Stefan and Aimee decided to just wait a while, unbothered by the formalities of the world.

"It is," she smiled lightly. "It's a beautiful day."

They watched a few more petals fall, grasping and adoring this simplicity. There and then, they were genuine and sublime, and as unglued from GINM or AIM as the petals were from their branches. For the time being, things were simple. For then, they had one another. And they had their tree.

Weeks rolled on and training became easier for Aimee. Her determination bought her ninth place on the RDA scoreboard. With a score of 709, she was not the only one who had improved. Kei Kimiko took first place, where she had been for quite some time, a Luna Hinto placed second – Aimee had said no more than two words to her since she had started training. She knew that she was Native American, that her dark hair nearly touched her knees. Dominick was in third place, and then came Valerie, who had secretly been competing with Dominick ever since she had made the Top Twenty. Finn ranked fourth, Gavin fifth, Stefan was seventh, and the brown-haired Chinese girl named Liu Ling was eighth. And then it was Aimee. When she saw her name up there, she did not know whether to laugh or cry as unexpected enthrallment sunk in. She was part of something, an RDA – there was an appeal to it, even if they were a subfolder in GINM's database.

The air was pumped with still celebration as Aimee, Dominick, the twins, Stefan and Gavin came together for a group hug. They seemed to be the only ones who believed in those. Liu and Luna reverently congratulated each of them, and then grabbed their towels and headed for the showers. The others were somewhat surprised by their sweet gesture.

Aimee's phone buzzed eagerly in the pouch on her belt. She had a message.

"It's Celeste," she muttered to Stefan. "She wants to talk."

Gavin nodded beside her, "Go."

Aimee walked through the dull and lifeless corridors of the eleventh floor, out the foliage-laced foyer, to the vibrant and bustling park a few blocks away. Celeste was there, standing beside a sandpit with nervousness on her smile. A low mound beneath a carpet of grass became their bench. For a moment, they absorbed the blue Californian air and watched the clouds, and then first words were spoken, and they belonged to Celeste.

"This park reminds me of when I was a kid," she paused, wishing she had gripped those thoughts tighter before they escaped her lips. "I asked you to come here because I owe you an apology."

Aimee lengthened her intrigued spine and crossed her legs. "Do you want to talk about it, your childhood – sister to sister?"

A smile crawled its way onto Celeste's face; as strange it was to think of Aimee like that, she kind of liked it. Even so, Celeste realised that she was not yet ready to share her past. Her lux of happiness fell dim when she thought of her childhood, of how her mom used to bring her and Violet to parks like these, of how she used to do many things. She was not ready to share her past with Aimee. She had come to make an apology.

"I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you, but the thing is, I couldn't accept it myself," Celeste's suddenly solemn eyes pricked Aimee's skin. "I don't expect you to be my friend, but I remember how you trusted me when we first met. I was kidnapping you and you saw me as something else, not an enemy. All I want is for that girl to trust me again."

Aimee nodded delicately, "I don't think she ever truly stopped," and then she found herself encased in Celeste's arms.

"Merci."

Coming down from her surprise, Aimee hugged her in return. "De rien. You're a good person, Celeste, and you are so strong. Yeah, our family's a little broken, but we're still here – we're all we need." She sat back, looked Celeste in her eyes, "They should have told you from the start, I'm so sorry they lied to you."

"They lied to both of us."