IT IS THE bright yellow peeking past his burgandy curtains that causes Finn to realize something is off. He rubs at his eyes, sitting up straight in his bed. The light of the sun softly rests on the blankets scattered around his lower body; he can see little dust particles floating around in the rays. Outside, birds are chirping in the quiet morning, their songs floating in through one of Finn's ears and out the other.

"Shit."

He throws the blanket aside in one fluid motion and tries to leap off the mattress, but unfortunately gets his foot caught in the striped comforter, dragging Finn down with it. He falls to the floor with a thud and an inevitable bruise on his right arm.

"Shit," he repeats breathlessly. Kicking away the blankets with a frustrated grunt, Finn manages to stand on both feet, albeit a little unsteady. The clock on his dresser catches his eye, the glowing green numbers flashing the numbers: seven twenty-seven. He officially has ten minutes to get to school.

"Dad!" Finn yells as he stumbles past his doorframe and into the hallway. The sudden chill of the morning causes him shiver and goosebumps to appear on his arms. He rubs at them visciously and stops upon reaching his destination. Right across from him is the door to his father's room, and the mahogany is soon met with Finn's fist knocking upon the surface. "Dad! My alarm didn't go off! Why didn't you wake me up? Dad?"

When all that can be heard is the sound of abrasive snoring on the opposite side of the door, Finn lets out a disgruntled noise. He knows that he shouldn't be too harsh on his father -- the man works the graveyard shift five days a week, for Pete's sake -- but he can't shake off the annoyance with being late for school yet again.

It's probably the eleventh tardy he's had all year, and it's only the beginning of October.

Finn eventually gives up on trying to wake his father's slumber and drags his feet back to his room. For a split second he considers skipping school, but remembers that justifiably, the Carters are not made of money. Finn relies solely on his academic perserverance (and hope) so that he can move on to college, get a stable career, and take care of his dad. If he began bad habits now, he might never be able to break them.

He closes the door to his room gently, suddenly guilty for trying to wake up his father so harshly. Sighing, Finn decides being late is better than not showing up at all and pulls some clean clothing out from his dresser. After he has changed into something acceptable, he makes his way into the hall, grabs an apple from the island, shrugs on his backpack, and walks out the front door.

The Carter boy is met with another burst of autumn air and he discreetly pulls his oversized wool hat further down his head. Despite his near obsession with the season, the one thing that he can never bring himself to like is the sudden cold after months of hot sun on his back. Finn drowsily reaches his gloved hand into the pocket of him parka and takes out his usual breakfast.

Finn takes a bite of his fruit, and the crunch echoes in the quiet of the morning. The stars still shine dimly in the navy blue sky slowly melting into an array of pinks and oranges. The sunlight that has peaked through does nothing to warm him due to the breeze that picks up. He shivers again. His converse crunching against the leaves scattered around the ground, Finn approximates how much time it will take to get to the school. On days when he walked slowly, it took nearly twenty minutes. When he lightly jogged, it took only ten. Finn sighs.

He starts jogging.

It's out of nowhere when a loud roar cuts through the calmness of the empty streets. The sound is loud and frightening, making birds shriek and dart into the safety of the air. Finn jumps too, his apple falling to the ground in the process. In between the bout of fear, he feels a bit, well, annoyed.

Along with the purr of an engine, there is a loud catcalling whistle in Finn's direction, making the tips of his ears turn pink. He turns with a horrified expression to see a familiar petite figure perched upon an enormous motorcycle, which terrifyingly enough is painted hot pink.

He desperately tries to remember her name.

"Hey, neighbor," the girl smirks, revving the engine with a flick of her wrist. "Looks like you could use a lift."

Finn's eyes flicker to the bike. He shakes his head feverishly.

"Hey," she says, "Consider it a token of thanks for yesterday." Finn spent the night attempting to forget that, but now that the topic is brought up again, he feels the embarrassment coat him all over again.

"Listen, the more you keep stalling, the later you'll be to school."

"How do you know I'm heading to school?" Finn retorts quietly, a bit accomplished that he managed to think up a comeback within five minutes. Usually it took at twenty-six hours to even get close to a snarky retort.

She gives him a strange look. "It's seven in the morning, and there's only one high school in this town, Finn."

Finn is utterly stunned. 1) She's right. 2) She remembers his name.

The boy weighs his options, lightly stroking his elbow in the process as his eyebrows scrunch tightly together. After a long (and by long, it really was long) moment's hesitation, he glances back at the girl. Her attention isn't even on him. She's watching the leaves fall from the trees, a curious expression on her face.

Finn sighs. "Alright, fine. But don't make me regret this."

She grins sharply. "I would never."

---

Finn regrets it.

He regrets it as soon as he manages to climb onto the hunkering vehicle. "Thanks again, uhm--"

"Winona," she replies, feigning an expression of hurt. "You forgot my name already? I'm offended."

Finn pales. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"Hey," Winona glances back at him with a small half-smile. "I'm kidding, dude. Don't take everything I say to heart. If you hadn't noticed, I'm a naturally sarcastic asshole." She reaches behind Finn to the metal box attached to the back of the motorcycle. "Do me a favor and lift that up?"

He grabs the handle and with some effort manages to open the lid.

Inside are two black helmets; they're sleek and scary -- two of Finn's least favorite things. Winona bends forwards a little more, making Finn bend back until he is practically lying down on top of the bike. She reaches her arms over his body and grabs one helmet, securing it over her head, before taking the other and handing it to Finn. He straightens and gives it a skeptical look.

"It won't kill you," Winona laughs, revving the engine. "In fact, I'm pretty sure it does the exact opposite." Finn gives her a deadpanned look before putting on the helmet and securing it as tightly as he can. He realizes he can't breathe. Grumbling, he loosens it a bit.

"Though I'm a kind and rather pathetic soul for being quick to offer you a ride," Winona starts, her voice muffled by the helmet. "I actually don't know the directions to the school so you're going to have to help me out, buddy."

"Okay."

"And make sure you're holding on tight." She moves his arms so that they're wrapped around her waist. Finn swallows.

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"Okay."

"Hundred percent serious."

"Okay."

"How do you feel about cloves?"

"What?"

"Cloves. It's a spice. Kind of shaped like a penis." Finn has to take off his helmet so that he is sure that he's hearing correctly. Winona is grinning -- Finn can see through the tint of her helmet; her expression looks likes she's dangerously close to cracking up. "I needed to see if you were paying attention. You just kept mumbling okay like a wind-up monkey."

Finn sighs and puts his helmet back on. "I'm going to be late to school."

"But this is a serious and intellectual conversation topic."

"Cloves are gross," Finn answers a little tiredly. "They taste like fart and my dad's manly man cologne."

"You've tasted your father's cologne?"

"Please," Finn pleads. "Just drive."

"If you say so," Winona says and kicks off the ground forcefully. The bike lurches for a split second underneath the new addition, and Finn suddenly understands why Winona told him to hang on tight. He feels the need to vomit and quickly shuts his eyes, tightening his hold on the girl in front of him. The wind is blowing even more forcibly as the bike cuts through, and it stings against the fabric of his clothing.

"Hey, so I still don't know where I'm going. Are your eyes shut? I feel like they're shut."

"I'm going to throw up."

"Good. That's the adrenaline."

Finn forces open one eye, expecting to just keel over right then and there but what he sees instead has him opening both eyes in astonishment. The trees -- red and yellow -- veer past at alarming speeds, like a runway. Leaves are swirling around and he risks removing one arm from Winona's waist to catch one as they zoom down the asphalt road. In utter amazement, Finn manages a small smile, his nausea forgotten.

That is until they make a sharp right.

Finn nearly topples over and lets out a girlish shriek, securing his hold on Winona and pressing his head against her back.

Finn is nauseous again.

"You good?" Winona yells over the roar of the engine.

"Asdjlasldjklasd," is all that manages to come out of Finn's mouth.

"Right or left?"

"Uh, left."

Winona makes another sharp turn. Finn releases a breath he hasn't realized he is holding. He cautiously opens his eyes again -- opting not to pull any more dangerous stunts and to to just watch the scenary pass by.

The little suburbia peels away to the traditional feel of the town, as houses are replaced by old brick building, slowly cascading away into nothing. Local stores are prepping themselves for the upcoming holidays -- there is a melting pot of diversity; some stores have Halloween decorations up, while others bask in the aura of Thanksgiving and PIlgrims and pumpkin pie.

Up ahead is a billboard that blocks Mr. Guerrerri's apartment complex (he always complained to City Hall; it wasn't a town meeting without Mr. G's infamous "That damn sign is all I see everyday twenty-four seven" speech), and Finn reads it like he does every morning on the way to school. 

Help Save The Dolphins! it reads, Wellington & Co. are proud supporters of our favorite marine animals. Donate to the cause now! On the board is a professional looking young man with an aura of superiority. He isn't smiling and has one hand on his tie, staring dutifully at all billboard readers everywhere. He is tall, broad-shouldered, brown-haired. Finn is jealous. The name underneath his photo reads Blake Wellington.

Finn wonders what Blake Wellington is doing at this moment in time. Is he actually saving dolphins? Or is dolphin actually a code word for a drug cartel? Whatever it is, drugs or aquatic marine life, he's probably enjoying himself more than Finn is right now.

Winona calls out, "Left or right?"

"Right."

Another sharp turn. Finn feels his stomach drop.

At least Blake Wellington doesn't have to deal with this.

---

Once they manage to reach school (with no scratches except for a small cut on Finn's cheek from when a pigeon flew into his face), Finn nearly topples off the motocrycle. Winona jumps off and steadies him.

"Still got your sea legs, huh neighbor?"

Finn rubs at his face, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. "Whatever. Uhm. Thanks again, Winona."

"Yeah, sure, anytime."

Finn feels awkward. He always feels awkward, so this isn't a new thing, but it still annoys him. How come he can't be a social butterfly like everyone else? Suddenly feeling down, Finn curls his lips up in a polite smile and waves a little before scooting away as fast as he can.

There are footsteps behind him.

He turns around and Winona is right on his heels. "If you need directions back home," Finn says, "I can write it down right now if you want?"

"Actually, I go to school here now."

"What?" Finn asks dumbly.

"There's only one school." Winona repeats.

"Oh." Finn feels stupid again. "Well, where's your backpack and stuff?"

"Don't have one." He gives her a skeptical look and shrugs off his backpack, reaching in and pulling out a spare notebook.

"Here," says Finn. "This will probably get you through the day."

"Gee, thanks," she takes it and tucks it under her arm. "By the way, can you show me to the main office?"

"Mmhmm." Finn mutters but his attention isn't on his new neighbor anymore. Instead, it's on the white Sedan parking in its usual spot. He feels his heart speed up a little as the door opens and a familiar figure is stepping out. She has a bright smile on her ruby lips, her ginger hair swept up into a messy bun and her glasses looking like they're falling off her face. He wants to push it back into place, to touch her, to have the courage to say hi.

Adelaide.

"Finn," Winona snaps and Finn jolts.

"Huh, what?"

"You just kind of zoned out, you know, staring at some girl."

"She isn't some girl," Finn snaps.

Winona quirks an eyebrow and a knowing smile graces her lips. "Oh."

Finn instantly groans and starts walking, desparate to leave Winona behind. "Shut up!" he yells over his shoulder. Of course, this doesn't stop the young lavender-haired girl who catches up with no problem, slinging her arm over Finn's shoulder.

"Hey, maybe I can help--"

"No."

"No, I'm serious though--"

"Winona."

"Finn."

The two stare at each other until the weight of her chocolate eyes shatters Finn's self-confidence, forcing him to look away. "Just forget about it, okay? I like a girl. No big deal."

"We'll see about that," Winona smiles. She winks, and then walks away, leaving Finn with a sinking feeling and a sudden realization that he gave her his biology lab notebook, a piece of academic that just so happens to be due today.

----

Alright, alright, alright, alright. I've finally updated! Because guess what? I made it into the first round of the Pencil Prize! God, I can't believe it. (': I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think so far. Characters? Plot? Dialogue? Also, Blake Wellington is a character in luckyelephant's story, Savign Dolphins, and his cameo was a twist on this round. On the side is a picture of Nat Wolff, who plays Finn.

Oh, and can people recommend some songs for this story? I need a Winona playlist. :)

Comment, vote, and promote!

-Isabelle