Along the Horizon.

"So how about I come over before the game on Friday to help you catch then we can go to the game together," Logan has been pestering with me all week with the study date he came up with in front of Mrs. Long.

"Logan, for the hundredth time, I'm not going to the game," I plopped down at the lunch table with a Logan puppy trailing close behind me.

"You have to come to the game. It's not an option. It's tradition that every home game, this whole table goes to the game together then goes to Ernie's for milk shakes and fries. You are officially apart of this clique now so you're going," Rachel said, she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Besides, you have to cheer me on. And you've already been elected to be the 'O' for Go 55!" Chandler smiled at me, shoveling fries covered in ketch-up into his mouth.

"What?" I asked. We didn't have a football team at Saint Paul. We didn't have anything the might distract us from our studies.

"Me, you, Logan, Tina and Kyle are painting our stomachs for the game. Logan will have the 'G' you'll have the 'O', Tina and I will have a '5' and Kyle will have the exclamation point," Rachel smiled, she obviously planned the whole thing.

"I'm not painting my stomach," I spat.

"Why not?" Rachel looked hurt, it was disarming.

"It's just I don't like my stomach."

"You're like a rail. How do you not like your stomach?" This was the first time I've heard Tina speak. I liked her better when she was mute. Her voice was whiny and shrill.

This was true. I have a body that most girls kill over. Naturally flat and toned stomach, long toned legs for my small height and breasts that were larger than average. But my stomach was covered in large, pink scars from the car accident and the surgeries.

"I just don't like not having clothing on, that's all," I mutter feeling bad about my lack of courage to tell them why I really don't like my stomach. They already knew about my brother, and Logan knew that my dad died six months ago, what else did they need to know.

"That's okay. We can always get shirts made. I'm just glad that we finally can do it," Logan always found the best in a bad situation.

Logan was looking at me, he knew there was another reason but he didn't press it. He just gave me a reassuring smile, I was thankful for that.

Logan walked me to my next class after lunch. I knew he was going to ask again about Friday. I decided to finally cave in and let him come over.

"I guess you can come over after school. But I have to pick up Brady," I turned to him right outside of my math class.

"If you don't want to go to the game you don't have to. Rachel just gets excited. It's not everyday that we make a new friend."

"Why don't you just ask someone else? Everyone seems to love hanging out with you."

"The lunch gang has been friends since we were little. It's always been just us, so it's hard letting others in. You should feel lucky that we all like you so much."

"I'll go to the game, for Rachel's sake. And you guys can do the stomach paint, just don't do the exclamation point. I'll be the photographer," Logan just smiled at me.

"So I'll just leave my car here tomorrow and ride home with you then I get pick it up when the game ends?" I nodded my head in agreement. "Cool, I'll see you tomorrow Ace," he smirked and turned to walk back down the hall. I cringed. He had to stop doing that.

*

It was Friday morning. I was dressed in my best purple and white attire. A tight purple shirt with shorts and tennis shoes. My purse laid at my hip. A large scar was visible on my thigh where a shard of glass had punctured my skin. It was to hot to wear anything but shorts, and Rachel insisted that we match. I had already disappointed her in not painting my stomach. I sighed, the truth would come out sometime, I just didn't want it to be this soon. Maybe they wouldn't notice it, who looks at thighs anyways?

"Oh you look like school spirit. I'm glad I decided to put you into a public school. I think you learn so much more around all kinds of people," My mom smiled at me.

Her job was getting easier. It turns out that Karen Cartwright is a natural born business woman. She looked young and respectable in sharply ironed jeans and a bright red top with matching heels. "It's casual Friday at work," she stated when she caught me eyeing her outfit.

Before my mom left to drop Brady off at school and go to work herself, she traveled back up to my room and plopped down on my bed. "We got ready a little early, so I have time to talk. I feel like we don't like anymore."

"Mom, you just talked to me like five minutes ago," I rolled my eyes looking at her through my mirror.

"I know honey, but not really talk. I never know what's going on," I knew that she was prying information from me.

"I'm going to the football game tonight with some new friends from school and that Logan guy is coming over because my English teacher thinks I need to be caught up. We are going to this place name Ernie's after the game then I'm coming home," I told her my plans for the night. Instantly her face lit up. I hardly ever had plans back at home, even with my dad living, I tended to stick to myself.

"That's great. Why don't you guys meet here and car pool. I want to meet your friends!" With the look on her face I could tell that I wasn't going to win if I objected to her idea.

"I'll ask Rachel what she wants to do," I shrugged.

*

I arrived at school early, parking beside Logan who was waiting for me. He was coolly leaning against his red beat up mustang with his arms crossed. An unbelievable smile played across his face once he saw my car.

"You drive this?" He practically shouted.

I got out of my BMW, and smiled. It was my baby. Or had been until I was afraid of driving. "X6 M fully loaded?" It was my turn to me cocky. In my head I was thanking my father for having good taste in cars. "Wait until you see my parents special outing car. It's a Audi r8 spyder. My dad was kind of a car enthusiast," go figure. He died due to a car crash.

"Your dad must have been amazing just from his taste of cars," Logan came around the vehicle and slung his arm around my shoulders guiding me into the school.

"Yeah, he was pretty amazing," I smiled. For once I wasn't sad or mad that I was talking about my dad. I was happy, truly happy and I think Logan was to blame.