Prologue

Eric's eyes rise in the mirror before him. Dark bags appear under his eyes. He takes in a breath and the smell of cigarette smoke and stale coffee envelopes his senses. A headache pulsates in his head.

"I'm never drinking again," he whispers to himself as he walks away. He puts on a t shirt and goes down the spiral staircase to the kitchen. His mother stands in her bath robe and pajama pants, stirring pancake batter. Her red hair is puffed out and her glasses fall down to the bride of her nose.

"Morning," she says, pleasantly. "You know, I really worry about you when you don't sneak back home until four in the morning."

"I got caught up in some stuff. Sorry."

She turns, her hands now on her hips. "No, Eric. Sorry doesn't cut it. You have a curfew, and if you can't make it, then you won't be going out with your friends."

Eric feels his face heat up slightly. Oh no, he thinks.

"I've let it slide twice now because I didn't want to immediately punish you for something you've done before. The first time, you were only an hour late. Second time, two and a half hours. This time? Four hours! You're really pushing your limits here, honey. I understand you're almost seventeen, but that doesn't give you the right to not follow the rules."

Eric's blood boils. He plants his feet and slams his fist against the wall.

"MOM! I said sorry okay? I'm sorry that you're awkward middle child is such a screw up who can't even get in at his curfew! It's your fault for giving birth to such a failure!"

Eric runs out into the cool morning air, his Chuck Taylors dangle from his index and middle finger. Tears begin to form in his eyes as he runs down Spooner Drive. He finally stops at house 5476. He leans over, pants for a few moments and crouches down. He drops his shoes on the pavement and puts his head in his sweaty palms. He screams into them, so the sound is muffled. He lifts his head back up and blubbers a bit. He looks to the house he's crouching in front of and sees a skinny girl sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. She is staring at him through black bangs. Her eyes are confused and she bites her lip.

She waves. Eric raises a relaxed hand.

She stands up and walks to the end of her driveway, about ten feet from Eric.

"Can I ask what's wrong?" Her voice is soft and warm. Eric had the sudden urge to hug her.

"I don't know. Can you?"

She smiles slightly, and bites her index fingernail. She waits for his answer, her dark brown eyes welcoming him. He stands up, and puts his hands in his front pockets.

"My parents don't understand."

She c***s an eyebrow.

"You're a teenager. What's new?"

A smile tugs at Eric's lips. He wipes his face with one hand.

"Let me guess, you try to be a good kid, break one rule maybe twice or three times. And how do they punish you? They make you feel like s**t and compare you to your perfect older siblings."

Eric gapes at her, slightly as she smiles and rocks back and forth from heel to toe.

"I'm Polly." she beams, nods her head at him.