Minutes after the terrible funeral was over, Kristy and Austin had found me waiting in the back seat of a red SUV.

My hair slithered down my back, my dark blue eyes stared at the clear driver windshield, and my skin became pale as a block of ice. A thin, black strap of my purse hung stiffly over my right shoulder.

Despite the incident, Austin was relieved to see me safe and sound, while his mom, however, was pissed as fuck.

Her arms were crossed, her beady eyes stare at my head, and her lips formed into a menacing frown.

"Jack, what just happened back there?" she asked in a stern, yet motherly tone.

I turn my head to look at her, then simply shrugged.

"I thought that dick deserves it," I explain frankly.

"Jack," she sighed, "what you did was admirable, but those people-"

"I don't care what those rich bastards think of me, " I say angrily. "The next time someone blurts out a fucked up idea, people should speak up, and care about others instead of their shitty mansions."

Kristy studied my face for a moment.

"What has gotten into you?" she asked. "As much as I agree with you, you can't just humiliate Warren in front of his relatives."

"But Mom, that asswipe deserved it." laughed Austin, sitting right beside me. "Jack was badass."

"No, she isn't." Kristy insisted. "Jack is being disrespectful."

"But Kristy-" I started to say, but Austin's mom silenced me.

"You are going to go back there and apologize to Warren," she demanded.

Austin became surprised.

"What?" he cried. "But Jack didn't do anything. She told them the truth-"

"She humiliated him in a funeral." corrected Kristy.

Abandoning my car seat, I let out a disgruntled sigh.

Again with the third person pronouns? I think, staring at Austin and his mom quarreling in front of me.

Do they not know that I am sitting right here?

A part of me wished that they would just look at me, but the other wanted me to say something. 

"Look it's fine, Austin," I say in a reassured tone. "I am going to apologize. Can you two wait for me in the car?"

He and Kristy nodded very silently, squeezing themselves onto the car seats.

"I saw Warren walking to his car earlier, " began Kristy. "Make sure you go over there and give him an apology."

Angry, Austin tries to cover for me.

"Mom, " he groaned. "do you actually think that Warren cares about his grandmother?"

"You heard it yourself, Warren was going to throw her ashes in some expensive well."

Kristy glares at his unflinching face.

"Yes, " she replied coldly. "he loves her very much and would do anything to protect her."

"Especially planning to tear down a park?" Austin barked snidely. "You and I both know that's bullshit."

When Kristy didn't answer, I let out a low sigh.

As much as I despise Warren, I felt bad for embarrassing Austin's mom; she took me to say goodbye to my favorite idol, and I fucked it up for her.

"If this bothers you, Kristy, I will go back outside and apologize," I said calmly.

Austin swerves his head to look at me.

Although his surprised face didn't want me to leave his side, Austin hated arguing with his mother.

"Look, Jack-" he started to explain.

I politely cut him off.

"I said, 'forget it', " I said quietly, "I'll go to Warren and apologize."

Austin looks at me as if I slapped him across the face.

"Jack, " he began slowly. "You don't have to do it."

His mother glared at him.

"Austin!" Kristy blared. "Don't defend her!"

He looked at his mother crossly. "Of course I do, Jack is my friend after all."

"I understand, " Kristy reasoned. "but friends don't-"

Not wanting to hear their argument, I gave my door a very hard slam, then stormed back into the coldness. I kept my tired feet going by swinging my legs back and forth-just to keep the blood flowing.

In the meantime, the temperature in New York was starting to get colder and bitter. Austin's coat suddenly had lost all its warmth from standing in the middle of the goddamn park.

"Shit," I cursed, feeling the chilliness sewn inside the silky black fabric.

Whooo?

Whoo?

The cries of wind worsened as I shield my ears from the vicious breeze. The more I try to move, the villainous frost emerged from my legs.

But if I stop, I'll die freezing in the cold.

"Now, what am I supposed to do?" I grumbled to myself.

Looking back at the distant parking lot, I realized that it was too late for me to head back and ask Kristy for a spare coat.

"Shit!" I cursed again, hugging myself tighter.

Of all the people in the world, I didn't expect Kristy to make me apologize to my enemy. In fact, I never apologize to people who deserved my brutally candid opinion.

From Joseph's obnoxiousness to arrogant cocksuckers, apologizing to self-centered jerks is the last thing I want to do. Whenever someone forces me to say, "I'm sorry" to the idiot who treated me like shit, I would snort and roll my eyes.

In New York City, apologies can only make you soft. Without showing any balls, no one would take you seriously; not your boss, your parents, or even your backstabbing lover who used to suck your face.

If you don't apologize to your enemies, then they will respect you. If not, then congratulations: you just sold your soul to the fucking devil.

While roaming back to the green landscape, I came up with many various ways to say sorry to Warren.

"Warren?" I began. "If you are here, I just want to tell you that I am sorry. I guess I was being a bitch back there, and-"

I stopped myself then cursed at myself again, fearing that he might recoil at the word bitch.

Taking a deep breath, I start again.

"Hello, Mr. Cole." I began carefully. "I know I have been a very disrespectful girl, but-"

I can't say that; it's too damn formal.

Hanging on my right shoulder, my black purse swings itself back and forth like a rusty pendulum. The air became so dense that I started reaching into Austin's dark pockets for a lighter and a cigarette.

However, as my fingers traced against the lining of the pouch, I realized that my friend has kept the goods in his pants.

"Fuck, " I swore, continuing forward into the darkness.

I badly needed a cigarette, drink, or whatever the hell people need when they want to forget. Walking with bold swagger, I wasn't afraid of the miserable hoodlums skulking at night.

In fact, even if I was being cornered by one, I wouldn't show any mercy towards wretched assholes who walk among the New York's dangerous streets.

Whenever I got scared or threatened, I would imitate Robert De Niro's mirror conversation in Taxi Driver.

With a cigarette in my deft fingers and a menacing scowl, I, Jack Cassidy, was the fearless sixteen-year-old girl in New York, New York.

The soles of my shoes wore away, like an eraser scrubbing on a piece of paper. My hair flounced vibrantly, but my eyes had begged for me to stop and take a nap on the soft sheeted grass.

Stubbornly, I ignored the feeling as I fought myself to wake up and find Warren in the damn cold.

Passing the menacing trees and busy squirrels, my feet finally had stopped walking when I stood to the exact spot.

I stopped myself when I noticed Warren was gone. There was no note or anything to remember him by.

Just a small, brown, ceramic jar and standing right in front of me.

Curious, I stooped down to inspect the container. Other than being brown, dark, chiseled outlines formed the words, Elle Jones, smearing onto the smooth, glassy texture.

Inspecting the jar, I picked up, then studied it for a moment.

Unfortunately, holding it was like carrying an enormous cube of ice; while my eyes became mesmerized by the container, my hands trembled like a scared puppy.

They shook so vigorously that I was afraid of dropping it. Luckily, I was careful not to let my careless hands break the beautiful work of art.

Taking in the fragile sculpture for one second, I carefully removed the lid with my left palm, then peered inside.

"What the hell?" I muttered.

There was absolutely nothing but a cloud of dust, filling it up to the tip of the rim. Although none of it was spilled on the grass, I kept looking at Elle Jones' name on the jar.

Could this be Elle's ashes? I thought suspiciously.

Well, that did explain the black snow in the container, but why was it standing in the middle of a park?

Surveying the quiet area, I glanced at Elle's jar then frowned.

Did someone leave this behind? I think. Could it be Warren?

Dick or not, Warren was entitled to the jar, money, and whatever items his grandmother left behind. If I put the jar back where I found it, Warren would toss the ashes into a public water system.

If he doesn't, then Warren might use Elle's ash jar as her memorial's gruesome display case.

That bastard, I thought, clenching my teeth.

First, he plans on tearing down a park, and then leaves his grandmother's ashes all alone?

There must be something I could do.

Checking to see if no one was there, I snapped open my black purse, stuffed the jar inside, then closed the bag tightly.

As much as I hated myself for committing a felony, I was tired of Warren's arrogance. Rather than going to a shitty memorial every weekend, I wanted to honor Elle's memory.

Elle wasn't just a director; she was a compassionate role model, who wouldn't let fame go into her head.

I guess I am a lot like her too; I am driven, adventurous, passionate, and rebellious. But rather than hogging all the fame, I always put my friends and family first.

Because of this, I am ashamed to tell anyone what I had done. Stealing a celebrity's ashes is a fucked up thing to do; if someone catches me doing it, then I will be thrown behind bars.

And as for the bail, I doubt that I will ever be released; Joseph's bank account is as shitty as his social skills. Not to mention that he has a hard time paying the electric bill.

Taking a long look at the bulge inside my purse, I started to head west, when I noticed Kristy's red SUV rolling across the grass.

The white headlights hurt my eyes, as Kristy did a clumsy line across from me. Black wheels made a squiggly dent on the greenish-brown dirt.

Taking a note of my shivering face, Kristy rolled down her window, then asked if I want to get inside the car.

Smiling, I ran over to the left car door, opened it, then crawled inside, feeling intense, yet bearable heat.

Buckling in my seatbelt, I could feel the numbness wearing away from my agile fingers.

Removing Austin's coat, I handed it to my friend, who was sitting on the other side of the car, stretched out my arms, then closed my exhausted eyes.

I haven't felt this tired since Mr. Pepperton's big history exam.

Seconds after I have closed my eyes, I could hear Kristy clearing her throat before calling my name.

"Hey, Jack." she started to say, watching for oncoming traffic.

"Yes?" I ask, opening my drowsy eyes.

Austin's mom takes a deep breath then said, "I am sorry for making you go out in the cold."

Squinting at her in surprise, I looked over to Austin, who was busy slipping his arms into his cold jacket.

One by one, he buttoned up the dark buttons of his coat, not even glancing in Kristy's or my direction.

Feeling a bit worried, I asked Kristy: "Did something happen while I was out?"

Kristy, who was driving the car, kindly shakes her head.

"No, of course not!" she says nervously. "After you walking outside, I felt guilty for forcing you to apologize to that outrageous prick-"

"Kristy, it's fine," I reassured kindly. "Besides, I did embarrass you back there."

"No, it isn't." Austin's mother insisted. "I should have listened real hard at what Warren said. You're right: he is a monster who puts riches instead of people."

I stare at her for a moment.

"Okay, " I said unsurely, "but you don't have to apologize-"

That's when Kristy interrupted me for the fortieth time.

"Jack, " she said again. "I am only going to say this once: what you said to Warren was cruel, but then again, he enjoys torturing innocent people. I remember one time-"

Austin stopped doing his buttons then cut his eyes at his mother.

"Jesus Mom," he said, finally talking. "Jack gets it, okay? You don't have to apologize."

Kristy's brown eyes gazed in my direction.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked worriedly.

I nod slightly.

"Yeah, " I grin. "I mean, it was a little chilly outside, but I am okay."

"Are you sure?" she repeated.

I nod again.

Kristy swerved her SUV around a nearby pickup truck then said: "I am glad you are okay. I was worried that your father might flip at me."

Drastically, my happy smile became a horrified frown. My face went pale as I thought about my dad yelling at me for disobeying his orders.

As much as I wanted to tell Kristy and Austin the truth, I was fucking scared of Joseph. Whenever I leave, he gets drunk on vodka then rant about that ungrateful crackhead of a mother.

Swallowing a nervous gulp, I placed my hands on my lap, then ignored the sounds of Kristy's delightful chatter, annoying the hell out of Austin.

Instead, I try to imagine Joseph's belligerent hands grabbing ahold of my arms and never letting go.