I started writing seriously when I was a teenager, around 14 years old.

I feel so out of place here. No matter how much money the Republic throws at me, I will forever be the boy from the streets.

When you stand out there," John continues in a hoarse voice, "keep your chin up, all right? Don't let them get to you." "I won't." "Make them work for it. Punch someone if you have to." John gives me a sad, crooked smile. "You're a scary kid. So scare them. Okay? All the way until the end." For the first time in a long time, I feel like a little brother. I have to swallow hard to keep my eyes dry. "Okay," I whisper.

He loves so wholly. It is his nature. He blinks, then tries to find the right response. "I-" he stumbles. "I'm so afraid, June. So afraid of what might happen to-" I put two fingers against his lips to hush him. "Fear makes you stronger," I whisper. Before I can stop myself, I put my hands on his face and press my mouth to his.

June laughs. "I have to say, you look better than most people I see. I've heard a lot about you." "I hear about you a lot too," Eden replies in a rush, "mostly from Daniel. He thinks you're really hot.

Now, as we stand three feet apart and stare at each other, I feel the full distance that comes with spending so much time apart, a moment filled with the electricity of a first meeting and the uncertainty of strangers.

I have to force a smile off my face as I sit limply in my seat... Then, just as I'm congratulating myself for such a stellar plan.