I Just Had to Lick the Cookie, Didn't I?

You're looking for something you can't find;
If you give it up you'll lose your mind;
There's always something in the way...

The rain picked up again. I looked up into the sky and let the rain beat against my face. With a long, deep breath, I stood up from the muddy ground and took in the last image I would ever have of this place. There was no way in hell I was ever coming back to Rochester, New York. No, this place will be nothing but a memory for me from now on. Nothing but the place that made me become who I am.

Rain pelted me harder and harder, and mud splashed up from the ground. My legs somehow managed to carry me to the car. It sat, rumbling away, lights bright and wipers going. Milo was focused on something, maybe lost in a thought. As quickly as possible, I opened the door and slipped in. My butt landed on the plastic-covered leather seat, and I realized why the entire car was draped in clear material.

We just sat there for a minute not saying anything. Milo was still in his daze, and I was too focused on not focusing on anything.

Suddenly the car jerked to life and started on its way to the airport. With everything I had, I hoped Milo wouldn't ask me anything. I hoped and prayed no one would ever find out what I did and said. From now on, I just want to live my life; no matter how messed up it is.

"You should change," Milo whispered quietly, pointing to the restroom door. I nodded and unzipped my suitcase. The jet shook a little from the storm we were currently flying in. Lucky for us there was a private jet available to fly us through the rain. It wasn't 'our' private jet, but it was still getting us to where we needed to be. Far away.

"What should I put on?"

"Whatever is fine, as long as you're willing to be photographed in it." With that in mind, I decided on some old, worn-in, faded denim shorts. Figuring I should look nice, I chose a nice sweater-like top. It used to be one of my favorites... When we packed for New York, Milo made me bring anything I had that was 'nice'. He said that as much as he loved my jeans and tee-shirt thing, it wouldn't be great publicity.

Milo had already changed out of his soaking black ensemble. Now it was my turn.

Making sure I was slow and careful, I undressed myself. Needless to say, I was soaked to the bone and muddy. To clean myself off, I grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the water in the sink. I cleaned every inch of my freezing body, even running my head under the faucet to rinse my hair.

Now freshly clothed and looking presentable, I sat down on the toilet. The lid was down, I was safe. Today I had let myself get too emotional. I had thought too much and cared too much. Sometimes I deserve to feel the way I do.

Holding back tears, I looked down at my hands. The backs were as pale and soft as ever, but my palms... My palms have been destroyed. One of the worst things about all of the scars and healing wounds is that I remember each and every one. If you asked me, I could probably tell you what day it was when I made each infliction. Each one has a reason and a memory. Some of them I wish I could forget.

The newest one, the wound that's healing, is the one I made when I found that box cutter on my desk. That's the one Milo saw Leo lick. Leo... I'm still confused as to why he never asked me about it. Maybe he's ashamed of me; embarrassed by how pathetic I am.

Surprisingly, what happened when I walked out of the bathroom shocked me more than the funeral had.

"For the past few days the public has been captivated by Maelogan Madden Boone. His sudden reappearance has sent girls back into their fits of hopeless obsession. Recently crowned Sexiest Man Alive by Teen Touch, Mr. Boone showed no signs of any knowledge about the subject.

Soon to be twenty-one, the young tycoon has never once allowed the media to get involved with his love life. Maelogan once stated: 'I don't want to end up like everyone else in this jungle. Most of them just want attention and would do anything for it. I, on the other hand, grew up in this world and refuse to let something as stupid and meaningless as the media ruin something as intimate and meaningful as my relationship with another human being.'

Short days ago, Maelogan arrived in New York City with a girl on his arm. When asked who the girl was, both he and his cousin Andrew answered. Ever since the fourteenth, people have been digging as far as they can to find out who she is.

The very next day the couple was spotted running through downtown New York. When asked for a second time, Maelogan confirmed the indecisive comment that she was, in fact, his girlfriend. The couple refused to give a name to the girl. As captured on film by one of the reporters at the scene, young Mr. Boone and his girlfriend claim to be in love, even going as far as to seal the deal with an innocent kiss.

Unfortunately for Maelogan, his plans have been foiled. An anonymous source has given us a name to call the previously mysterious girl.

Adriaan Anabell Ryker.

'All I needed to know was her name and how old she was, the rest could have been bluffed. Now I have a whole arsenal of information about one seriously screwed up seventeen year old...'

Super tech savvy media guru Indy Ken has revealed to us that he has an entire file filled with information on Miss Ryker and plans to publish an article in the next issue of Teen Touch, the very magazine that quite possibly added kindling to this burning curiosity about Maelogan Madden Boone and his new girlfriend.

In recent affairs---"

Holy mother of shit. What in the hell was that? Was that--- Was that my first media attack? Is the media attacking me!? What did I ever do to them!?

"I'm hiring a publicist. A good fucking publicist..." Milo mumbled, still staring at the black television screen. I gulped and sat down next to him on the sofa. We both took deep breaths at the same time. "On the plus side," he said more cheerily, "that doesn't air until tomorrow night." His head turned and his eyes met mine. He laughed. "You look ridiculous. Trust me, it could be worse. Now close your mouth and stop reminding me of a fish I used to have... Damn that thing was annoying."

"If it doesn't air until tomorrow, how were we watching it? Hey! And I don't look like a fish!" This time he smiled.

"My dad forced all of the media and reporter people---I prefer to call them stalkers-that-kill-my-sanity---to pre-record and send us anything that had to do with our family or any of its relations before it aired or was published. We have enough money to do it, so he figured he would. It helps us prepare for everything. See, now that we know they're going to say all this junk, we can be ready. And we can pay Indy Ken lots and lots of money to keep his mouth shut."

"Oh," I whispered, slipping back into my mood of depression. It was quiet for a long time. Only the sound of the jet's engines were heard. That and breathing.

"Hey," Milo said quietly, just loud enough to get my attention. I looked up at him and waited. "I thought you were sixteen." I a---m not? Do the math idiots, today's the seventeenth. Today is my birthday.