[Cameron Webb]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cameron was able to acknowledge that Horizon wasn't really that bad of a place. Surrounded by nature, it was reminescent of the haven that he'd always sought as a child when he'd somehow felt safer in wide open spaces than in the restricted confines of his own home. He was able to acknowledge that the counselors, though indeed paid for their time here, were unlikely to have chosen this profession to begin with unless they'd really wanted it on some level. So, in all honesty, it seemed the negative fuss and ruckus roused up by his fellow students was based solely on individual perspective rather than genuine fact. From the eye of withdrawal, surrounded by demons and habits that none of them could indulge in, he could imagine that it was more than easy to see Horizon as a prison and the counselors as correctional officers. It was just a school in the middle of nowhere, with authority figures that could drive away to cozy homes at the end of the day or whenever they so chose.

With this logic firmly within his grasp, it should have been a piece of cake to be able to find some measure of enjoyment in his stay. The way he looked at the whole picture was his own choice and the fact that he knew this gave him a feeling of general empowerment. As it was, however, habits are rather hard to break in the longrun and he was still making all the poor choices. Horizon was still just a prison in the middle of nowhere, and the counselors were still just the guards.

He had come to find that the lake was swiftly becoming his favourite place to be in this place when he wasn't busy wandering through the forest at large. The closest experience he had with any sort of body of water had been at eight years old, sailing over the Atlantic Ocean to come to Canada to be with his new guardians. Houses around the suburb had pools installed for accessory more than for actual use, but those usually came with the accusation of trespassing if you were caught by it without permission (which he had been, on a handful of unfortunate occasions). But the lake of Horizon came without that threat, and it was an overall enjoyable environment. He knew it was irrational, but it almost seemed quieter here. Water lapped noiselessly at the shore, caressed by a gentle breeze that seemed chilly at all times regardless of the weather. Frogs lurked at certain points along the boundary line between water and mud, waiting to jump out in a splash at any sign of an intruder. Fish occasionally even breached the surface for split seconds before disappearing again. It was so purely nature that something about it was altogether soothing in that regard.

Retreating to the lake soon after the first class of his afternoon had wrapped up, he'd impulsively shed his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs to just below his knee, and waded into the water without hesitation. Moving slowly, listening to the sounds of his tread as he moved through, the water was cold against his skin. Colder than he'd honestly expected. Mud gave beneath his weight and he sank down inch by inch as he moved further by further. Perhaps, at first, he'd intended to only go so far, but soon it seemed pointless to have rolled up his pant legs to begin with as he continued on, the water soon seeping into the fabric of the denim as his knees sunk beneath the surface, soon followed by the length of his thighs. He finally pulled to a stop as the water crawled to his stomach, his arms poised up as if wary of getting his sleeves wet, a clearly belated concern considering he was now drenched from the gut down. Frowning blue eyes scanned the dark water that surrounded him, clear for only a handful of inches before his form disappeared, his gaze skimming the area around him as if in idle search of something.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

The day had started off as a good day in Nevaeh's opinion. No one bothered her about why she did the things she did, there was no flashbacks of her old life. A life that somewhere inside of her, she desperately wanted back. That life was simple, a family who loved you, no worries about feeling unsafe, enjoying your life in a safe, caring way. Those were the days that she wanted to go back to, but knew that they were long gone because some of the people that made them so great had passed away, leaving her to her own downfall. It wasn't their fault by any means that she was the way she was, Nevaeh knew and understood that. But, it sure didn't help that the people she cared about the most left her. Blaming them for her problems was just the easy way out. Who wanted to blame their father or sister for the fact that she cut or used drugs? Dan would probably roll over in his grave if he had known she would turn out like this.

There had been many places which striked Nevaeh as a place where she could get away. Some places even reminded her of her old life. Those were the only places that she wanted to go, maybe to search for those people or to search for herself. She figured all she had now was time on her hands, so why not search for yourself rather then mope about the reasons you were sent here. No one really agreed with why there were here, she didn't at first. But not she realized she had some problems that she couldn't help but have and maybe, just maybe some of the people here could help her with those problems and overcome them.

As she walked around the campus her feet lead her to the lake. Ah, the lake. That was the one place that Nevaeh could be seen at. It was the sounds, the sounds drew her in and captivated her mind. The quiet rushing of the water against the rocks, the splash of fish, and the soft grass. It welcomed her, she liked that. But when she got there this time she noticed a boy standing there taking his shoes off. Figuring the boy would only deep his feet into the water she sat down, just watching him. That was something she had always done, been the observer. It wasn't something she did to bother people, but you could tell a lot about a person just by watching them. Before she had known it, he had walked into the water and kept walking until his stomach skimmed across the water. Was he trying to drowned himself? Nevaeh didn't think he was, if that was the case then he wouldn't of bothered to take his shoes off. This made her laugh a bit, never seeing it before really. He was still practically dressed!

Nevaeh got up then and walked over closer to the lake to make her presence known. " Fish sometimes mistake toes for food, you may want to be a little careful about what's nipping at your toes." She chuckled to herself, what came out of her mouth reminded her of the Christmas carol jack frost or whatever it was called. Sitting down, she pulled out her journal and began to write a little bit about her day so far, not forgetting to mention the boy that stood in front of her in the water. She hadn't really seen the boy, but Nevaeh hadn't been here that long.

[Cameron Webb]

It took him a small while to realize that he really had no idea at all what he was searching for. Not that that was necessarily unusual for his character, he had done a lot of impulsive and irrational things through the course of his short lifetime, most of which accomplished while under the influence of a variety of poisons. Wading into a lake while practically dressed was hardly the strangest thing that he'd done, but the difference stood in the clear line of the fact that he was simply sober while doing it. With that in mind, his actions would probably be seen as something less to be sympathized, and merely humourous in their randomness. He wasn't entirely sure if this was a good thing, or a bad thing.

"Fish sometimes mistake toes for food, you may want to be a little careful about what's nipping at your toes."

He quickly reached his conclusion as a female voice rang out behind him, causing him to quickly turn the upper part of his body enough that he could look over his shoulder to focus on her, his bare feet firmly planted in the mud and his trademark scowl darkening his boyish features. He wasn't particularly certain what to say to her, his social skills hardly sharpened to any degree, but the girl didn't seem to mind his lack of reply at all as she casually sat down upon the ground several paces from where he'd left his shoes and opened up a journal so she could begin writing. He watched her for another second or two, his eyes narrowed on her figure in seemingly disdainful scrutiny, before he slowly slid his gaze away to return his attentions to the water that surrounded him.

Unfortunately, he was quick to find that his attentions didn't really want to follow at all and he found it increasingly difficult, if not impossible, to put his focus back on what he'd been doing - or had not been doing, to perhaps be more accurate. He found it vaguely unnerving to be in such a reversed role from the norm. Usually, he was the observer, casting his gaze over the unaware being. Really, he had no proof at all that the girl had been standing there for any beat longer than it had taken for her to notice him and promptly speak, but the notion that she might have been was enough to unsettle him. He'd certainly not felt like someone had been watching him, but could he really trust his instincts, sober or not? Sliding his eyes back over to the girl, peering over his shoulder at her, he watched as she hunched over her notebook in full concentration on whatever she was writing about. The smooth settlement back into their respective roles as Cameron saw them was hardly a comfort as he remained in the dark on just what was bleeding out from her pen, remembering soothing periods between himself and his own sketchbook and all the number of oblivious models milling about in the environment around him.

And he found himself decidedly unsettled at the idea that, not only might she also have stolen the position of observer from him, but she might also be capturing his likeness down on the paper in front of her, whether it be in word or image. "Are you writin' about me?" He called out to her finally, turning slightly to face her more, either oblivious to the pretentiousness of his question or simply ignoring it. He'd spent a fairly equal number of years between his birthplace of northern England and his new home in Canada, so the accent that affected his words was fairly skewed and mutilated, but still faintly noticeable nonetheless. Of course, old curiosities and guesses in regards to his dialect that used to irritate him didn't even occur to him now as he felt addressing a bigger concern to be of a more dire issue: Whether she was writing about him or not.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

As Nevaeh went back to her journal, she peaked up at the boy through her hair. He didn't reply to her, just stared as if she was a big green monster coming for him. She smiled lightly to herself, he was one of those. The boy kept to himself, not really wanting to chat, which was fine with Nevaeh. The worst conversations were the forced ones. As Nevaeh looked back up at the boy she saw he was still looking at her, which caused her to be a little unnerved. Did she have dirt on her face? Was there crap in her hair? Or maybe he just didn't want her there to intrude in his space. Unconsciously she scooted back a bit, putting only a little bit of distance between her and his shoes.

"Are you writin' about me?"

His voice startled her a bit, causing her to throw her head up to look at him. He thought Nevaeh was writing about him. Well...in a sense she was but it was nothing bad. She always wrote about people she saw or things that they did. It was nothing really to do with him and she wasn't trying to be rude. Her memory just wasn't what it use to be, she guessed it was from the drugs. Nevaeh liked to write things down for future references. Journals were hidden all under the floor boards of her house, keeping her secrets away from the world but most importantly Cindy, her mother. In there she was able to write about whatever it was she wanted with no one to give her guidelines. It was one of the couple of things Nevaeh could do that she felt free.

Closing the journal she stood up and brushed off her legs and bottom. " Do you mean am I writing bad about you?" She had a feeling that was what he was trying to say, just trying to be secretive about it. She smiled at the boy, trying to give him a sign that she wasn't all that bad. His voice, it didn't sound like everyone's here. Not being able to put a finger on his accent, she decided to make a mental note to write it in her journal when she could. " Are you new here?" Being curious about the boy because she had yet to see him in her time here so far. Maybe if she tried to start a conversation it would go somewhere, but if he didn't want to talk Nevaeh wasn't going to make him. Giving it a couple of tries was all she could do.

[Cameron Webb]

She didn't respond right away and his impatience simmered, but his gaze remained steady on her as she stared back at him, apparently surprised that he'd spoken to her in the first place. Even if she didn't say a thing at all, he supposed that couldn't necessarily be a bad thing as at least she wasn't writing anymore. It was perhaps a bit ridiculous, in a sense, the levels of his paranoia, but he had neither the care nor the maturity to even attempt to tone it down to any degree. He felt something inside of him calm a measure as she closed the journal, the page containing fresh scribbles out of sight and hopefully soon out of mind, and she stood, her hands slapping away any dirt that might have clung to her. He stood as still as ever in the water, his arms held up to avoid getting his sleeves wet despite the irrationality of the concern.

"Do you mean am I writing bad about you?"

It was an innocent question. A mere inquiry to better understand what it was that he was asking, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way. In all honesty, everything tended to rub him the wrong way. His brain was too fucked up to register questions in any light outside of the negative, and his overwhelming cynicism promptly disfigured the question to better resemblence an attempt to mock and tell him what it was that he meant. "I meant are you writin' about me." He repeated, his tone snippy. It didn't quite register that her voice had been soft and kind. It didn't quite register that her smile was sincere and could be disarming if he let it be.

"Are you new here?"

Put off a little bit by a question that he considered to be sudden despite the sense that it made for her to ask, his eyes narrowed further as he glanced her over and then looked away, as if he couldn't collect his thoughts and find an answer while she was within his line of sight. It took only a second for him to look back to her. "Maybe. Are you?" He countered. It certainly wasn't the most intelligent of replies, but the wary aggression of it was normal and, with that tone, it didn't necessarily have to be smart. By his logic, it didn't necessarily have to matter at all what he said, as long as the unspoken was heard: he didn't know her, he didn't trust her, but curiosity drove him to indulge her. And he'd always been nothing if not a curious kid.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

He was staring at her, she could feel his eyes boring Nevaeh's head. It made her smile a little bit. Dropping the journal, she let it his the ground with a thud, paying no mind to it once it was down. It was going to be hard to talk to him, she could tell. But she had no plan on giving up just so easily. Hell, she never really ever gave up, Nevaeh may take a little break but she would be back. Placing a smile on her face she looked at him. Noticing his sleeves were completely dry as his stomach skimmed the water. This was really the first person who striked her as someone who didn't want to make friends or maybe he was just new. Someone had once told Nevaeh that you can always tell the new people from the people who have been here a bit. She shook her head, placing her hands in her pocket.

"I meant are you writin' about me."

She decided to be a little more difficult, but honest. " Does it really matter to you if I was or was not writing about you?" It probably did, or he wouldn't of asked. At the same time, it wasn't anyone's business what she wrote about in her journal. It was hers to write in it whatever she wanted to. Nevaeh really only wrote once a day, maybe twice if she really needed to get something off her chest. The boy was going to be remembered always on her piece of paper and that bothered him. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn't know what was written about him. Sometimes that could drive a person to do weird things just to find out. She thought about it, deciding if he was one of those paranoid people or just really wanted to know.

"Maybe. Are you?"

Laughing slightly, she put her head down. Not wanting him to think that Nevaeh was laughing at him, but she was laughing instead at what he said. It was a feeling that she had, that he was new and he was foreign. Or at least sounded the part. She scanned her brain, trying to figure out the accent that accentuated his speaking. " No, not that new. Been here about a month, maybe a month and a half." Not really that long, but long enough to know the place well. Bringing her brain back to the question of his accent, she wondered if she could take a stab at it and he would give her an answer. " You're foreign aren't you?" She figured that would be the best way to start out. He kept knocking down her attempts of a conversation, but she would get him talking. Either yelling or just sitting down to chat. Either way, didn't bother her.

[Cameron Webb]

His eyes followed the path of the journal as it fell from her hands to the ground, closed and now discarded, his concern for it more or less followed the same progress. Closed and discarded, and then replaced by a general suspicion for the girl's prompt compliance and accomodation. Not to mention the fact that she still had yet to answer the question. A simple question in his opinion, ignoring the overall hostility of it.

"Does it really matter to you if I was or was not writing about you?"

And people who continuously answered questions with yet more questions were high up on his list of those that couldn't be trusted, barring his own complete hypocrisy in the matter. "Would I be askin' if it didn't matter?" He countered, emphasizing said hypocrisy. Really, this splendid use of the Socratic method was hardly the first sign of hypocritical action. His blatant disdain for the idea that she might have been writing about him was a strike against him, because it wasn't exactly an unusual thing for him to find a vantage point with his sketchbook in tow to copy down the faces and poses of the strangers that surrounded him. If she had been writing about him in her little journal, then she'd have been doing something no different than what he did on a frequent basis. The roles being reversed, however, still unsettled him greatly.

He narrowed his eyes on her as she laughed, a soft sound that rang even softer to his own ears as he stood several paces away from her, but he could tell from the way her smile stretched and her head ducked down that she was, indeed, laughing. At him? It made sense for that conclusion to be reached in a heartbeat, and his mouth tightened into a thin scowl as his mind raced over all the things she could possibly be laughing about. His voice, his question, his situation, his bad fucking hair day, his being- "No, not that new. Been here about a month, maybe a month and a half." Finally, a straight answer and he wasn't so messed in the head that he couldn't find a measure of comfort in the discovery that she wasn't exactly incapable of answering questions. She wasn't so attached to her apparent toughgirl routine.

"You're foreign, aren't you?"

The question that he didn't even realize he'd been expecting until it was finally there in the air between them. He'd been asked the question by a multitude of people within the eight years since he'd become a Canadian citizen, though, admittedly, it had never quite been phrased like that. Perhaps the way she worded it, a question he'd heard a million times before, was what knocked back the normal aggression that might have filtered his standard reply, a reply that he had to find new words for so they matched. "Depends on whatcha mean by foreign." He retorted, straightening up his back as if that'd make him seem tougher, despite the ridiculous place that he stood, waist deep in water, fully dressed. He wasn't a genius by any regard, and he wasn't complete certain that there was more than one definition of foreign to be found, but being difficult was a game that he prided himself on being good at.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

"Would I be askin' if it didn't matter?"

She laughed again, not trying to come off as someone who laughed at people who were greatly moved by something. Nevaeh was simply laughing because he was catching on a bit, seeing that she wouldn't give him a straight answer until she got one herself. " Touche'. Yes, I was writing about you, but nothing bad. If you don't believe me, have a gander for yourself." Bending down, she grabbed her precious journal and gripped it out in front of her. There was nothing said about him that would be offensive, Nevaeh wasn't the type. Maybe it was just that the boy had no trust in anyone but himself, so he couldn't very well take her word for it. But, just a little but, that he would. Trust one and, well you just may begin to trust others.

Noticing that she asked him something and he dodged around it, not even opening his mouth to indicate that he even wanted to or had a desire to answer her. Nevaeh had to smile a bit, the corners of her mouth twitching up a bit. She decided to word what she wanted out of him, another way. " Well, I only ask that because I haven't really seen you around here. Unless you've been hiding." Nevaeh hoped that what came out didn't sound bitchy, she wasn't trying to. It was the truth, she hadn't seen the boy around the school since she had been here, not once laying eyes on him. Nevaeh didn't want to offend the boy in any way. She was just simply trying to have a conversation with the boy who was currently still standing waist deep in water.

"Depends on whatcha mean by foreign."

" Well," Nevaeh began, walking closer to the lake and sitting down so she could see him a bit better. The sun had been staring her in the eyes, blinding her ever so slightly. When she scooted up, she moved behind a tree, blocking the sun out of her eyes."I mean your accent isn't something I have ever heard from the states and even Canada. You sound like you're not from here." It was true, he sounded like something you would hear in a movie from a foreign actor. She didn't want to say he was Irish or English and he wasn't. So Nevaeh waited before she said anything about where he was born for him to answer.

[Cameron Webb]

She seemed to laugh a lot. Since the moment that she'd spoken to him, a joking tone to her words, she'd been smiling and that had steadily progressed to small fits of laughter. It had yet to occur to him that maybe that was just the sort of person she was. A light-hearted person that found a reason to laugh in anything and everything, and that it might not be connected to him at all. It had yet to occur to him that she might be laughing at something else entirely, something racing through her mind perhaps, and not necessarily laughing at his expense. People like that existed, he should know. Not everyone that filtered through his days had been the snob or bully that could laugh for only that reason, in the attempt to mock or humiliate someone. But his paranoia continued to demand for him to see her as just that, someone laughing at him and everything he said.

"Touché. Yes, I was writing about you, but nothing bad. If you don't believe me, have a gander for yourself."

He didn't believe her. Not one bit and he couldn't imagine that he would, but then she bent down to grab up the notebook and hold it out towards him, pulling through on the latter half of her statement. He eyed the book as if it were a bomb that was fit to explode at any second. It never did, though. It was just a harmless journal, a set of pages covered in scribbles and a small little portion of those scribbled fit around him. Chewing the inside of his lip, he considered doing it, stepping closer and snatching up her journal. Maybe he'd toss it into the lake, or rip out the page that had him on it, or maybe he'd rip out all of the pages because that's the sort of person he was. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot. "Nothin's gunna stop you from writin' bad about me later." He pointed out, figuring that it made more sense than it really did. As if he'd actually stay on her mind for so long.

"Well, I only ask that because I haven't really seen you around here. Unless you've been hiding."

"I don't hide." The lie tasted sour on his tongue as he let it slip in a quick moment to defend his pride. He hid. Once his father introduced the power of the belt, he'd hid outside and in his room. In Canada, he'd hid from his new family, moving out of rooms once he was no longer the only one occupying them. And at Horizon, he'd avoided company as much as he could. "I got here a couple days ago." He finally relented, narrowing his eyes as if to prepare for some comeback meant to ridicule him in some way.

"Well," He watched her carefully as she moved closer to the edge of the lake, moving to sit back down on the ground, her eyes focused right back on him. "I mean your accent isn't something I have ever heard from the states and even Canada. You sound like you're not from here."

He'd never been to America, but he didn't figure that that really mattered all that much. "Then sure, maybe I'm foreign. Or maybe you just don't get out much." He retorted, unnecessarily difficult. But that's how he did everything, he made things so much harder than they ever had to be. And this girl was no exception to his habit as he forced her to fight for every answer that she managed to wring out of him. Finally, after a pause, he tugged his feet from the mud that they'd been stuck in for the course of this conversation, the water swishing around him with each step as he headed over to her, coming to a stop in front of her with the water still around his shins, holding a hand out. "Let me see the book." He demanded as if he had any right.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

"Nothin's gunna stop you from writin' bad about me later."

She nodded her head, yes that was very true but she wouldn't do that. In her journal she just wrote about her frustrations, her secrets, drawings, and poems. Nothing that anyone would find offensive or have their feelings hurt by it. " That is very true, but I wouldn't do that. It's a waste of time and paper." The little scribblings that she had wrote down just talked about how she thought it was unique to see a boy standing in the middle of a lake with his entire set of clothes on. Not that it was a bad thing, just something she had never witnessed before. Nevaeh figured he was a good person, most of the people here were. They just had to find that goodness again, and this boy was no different. He was one of the many lost kids here, trying to find a way to cope with things or even how to survive with what they have done. She knew that's how it was with her, so why not with everyone else? They could deny it all they want, but deep down some part of them WANTED and NEEDED to be helped. To not lay awake at night and cry themselves to sleep, to not be scared that someone was going to come in their rooms and touch them at night, to have parents who didn't drink or beat the living crap out of them every chance they got. This boy was no different, he would come to see and understand this.

"I don't hide. I got here a couple days ago.""

" Well, that's good. Cause if you do hide, they seek you out. The counselors or even some students. What group have they placed you in?" Nevaeh wasn't sure if the boy had been hiding or if he had just arrived. She knew she didn't know everyone that was at the school, there were too many kids. But as of lately, she noticed the same ones walking across the campus to the lake or the gazebo. That was her being observant, sitting back and watching before actually jumping into something. When you sat back and watched you saw things from every angle. Had an idea of peoples routines and actually learned a lot about a person just by watching them. She was glad that the boy was starting to talk, even if it was just a little bit. Something was way better then nothing in her opinion. Nevaeh wasn't sure about all the groups or even how many there were, but she knew there was a lot of students here and there had to be more then a couple groups. She had 6 girls in her group, including herself so there was bound to be more groups out there.

"Then sure, maybe I'm foreign. Or maybe you just don't get out much."

She laughed again, understanding the little joke he made, even if he didn't think he had made one." No, I haven't been out a lot...but I'm well educated. It may not seem like it being in here but I am. So where are you from..ORIGINALLY?" She figured that was the safest question to ask, believing if she wasn't extremely specific then he would continue to bounce around the questions she would ask. It was fine with her, she had all day to do this, not having any classes. " I'm just trying to be nice...that's all." Nevaeh wasn't sure if the boy was confused about what she was doing, but decided to let him know that she came in peace and meant no harm towards him.

"Let me see the book."

Nodding her head she handed him the book without even thinking. She was slightly scared that he was going to damage her book, which only would cause he to act like a total b*tch to him and toss his shoes half way down the lake, making him fetch them. Nevaeh wasn't even sure what he was looking for, if he was just that paranoid or if he wanted to see for himself. He wasn't very trust worthy she noticed. " I'm forgetting my manners, I'm Nevaeh McCoy She stuck out her other hand, next to her journal waiting for him to grab one and shake the other.

[OCC- Nevaeh's journal entry on cameron is in her journal. :)]

[Cameron Webb]

"That is very true, but I wouldn't do that. It's a waste of time and paper."

He narrowed his eyes on her again, an expression that was far too familiar to his features, an inevitable and consistant expression of wariness and suspicion. A passive aggressive look of uncertain hostility that had become so much a part of his being. It surely wasn't natural or healthy for someone so young to bear such negative emotions in such endless abundance. "Writin' about me at all is a waste of time and paper." He retorted with conviction, because there was nothing about him that was worth recording. Apparently, for himself, he could ignore the fact that he was soaked through to the bone because he still stood waist deep in pond water. If the roles had been reversed now, as he felt they should be, and he'd wandered upon a girl standing in the pond, fully clothed, he'd have wanted her likeness sketched out between the pages of his own notebook. But it wasn't like that and because he was the one on this end of things, he felt that it made everything different. He wasn't something that people should waste the time and paper to write about at all, good or bad.

"Well, that's good. Cause if you do hide, they seek you out. The counselors or even some students. What group have they placed you in?"

He couldn't say that he'd been unaware of the 24 hour supervision that the counselors were meant to have on him and the rest of the Horizon students for the most part, but it was still a little unsettling to hear it laid out flat by someone else. It had been the sort of thing that he could ignore until it was said out loud or written down in words. He could fool himself into thinking that it'd be no big feat to just disappear, but the girl, as if able to read the far corners of his mind, was quick to remind that it wasn't that way at all. If he tried to escape, if he hid away somewhere to get away from the world, they'd seek him out and drag him back out to some kind of spotlight, fighting the whole way as if he had any choice. "What group did they place you in?" He asked, blatantly avoiding the question. He knew perfectly well what group he'd been placed in, but some part of him figured that if she refused to answer the question then he wouldn't have to. His childish logic generally skipped over the fact that she'd not been so unwilling to answer questions thus far.

"No, I haven't been out a lot...but I'm well educated. It may not seem like it, being in here, but I am. So where are you from..ORIGINALLY?"

She read a hell of a lot of books, so suddenly she knew everything. He wasn't really sure why he was being snotty about the remark, because it didn't take a thorough education to point him out as something foreign. It took an accent that had yet to really fade away. Biting his lip slightly, his blue eyes darted away again to the side, scanning over the calm surface of the lake as if he'd find some reason and way to slip around this question as well. "I'm just trying to be nice...that's all." His gaze returned back to her, suspicious of the assurance despite all its apparent sincerity. There'd been plenty of people in his life that had just tried to be nice to him since his move. His new family, the Gradford family, the family built by his dead mother's sister, they'd all tried their best to be nice and accomodating at first. By the time they'd shipped him away to this place, he was more than certain that none of them liked him anymore, none of them tried anymore. "Why?" He questioned, his first display of honest curiosity beyond mere immature games of pride and difficulty.

Moving over to the shore to stand in front of her, water still swirling about his shins, he demanded her book and she grabbed it up to hold out to him without hesitation. For a moment, her complete willingness to listen paused him for a moment.

"I'm forgetting my manners, I'm Nevaeh McCoy."

For a brief second, he glanced up to her face as she introduced herself, catching her eye before dropping his gaze again to focus on the second hand that she stuck out towards him, presumably for him to shake and offer his own name in return. He didn't have manners though, so he only nodded a vague acknowledgment before reaching out his hand to snatch up her book, flipping it around right side up in his grasp and automatically flipping it open to the last entry, seemingly without any desire at all to search over the entries that came before it. His eyes swept quickly over the page, barely catching many of the words that passed underneat his scrutiny. Sure enough, there wasn't much to it. She'd thought he was going to kill himself. She thought she'd try to start up a conversation. Once he soaked in the words that wrapped around his description, he let it go and opened his mind to the rest of the words. "Who's Quinn? And Aiden?" He questioned without falter, either oblivious to the notion that they could be unwelcomed inquiries or expecting for them to be.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

"Writin' about me at all is a waste of time and paper."

She laughed slightly at the boy and wondered why he felt that way."Everyone is worth writing about in some way. If they weren't we wouldn't have anything to ever read about." Or even look at for that matter. Words and pictures were the most important thing to her and the world. Without those, well we would never know about the past and the people who lived it. " Is it that much of a problem for you?" Nevaeh was slightly curious as to what it was that made him so...against her writing about him. She wondered what the people that she captured on paper or in pictures would say if they only knew what she was secretly doing. Would they not like it as well and want her to stop or to give them answers.

"What group did they place you in?"

Noticing that he didn't answer her question, she wasn't sure if she should answer his. But if she didn't then she could be seen as someone that was hiding something, or trying to hide something. At this school it was hard to hide things, the truth always coming out if you liked it or not. She kicked a rock into the lake, missing him by a lot and thought about it for a minute. " Well, It's only fair if you tell me as as well." Not sure if her comment was going to make him mad or with draw from her she looked at him, watching his facial expression. Nevaeh had a feeling the boy was trying to play a cat and mouse game in a sense. He was demanding answers out of her, when she wasn't getting any in return. That wasn't how Nevaeh played.

"Why?"

The question knocked her off guard, had no one ever been nice to the boy or even wanted to know about him as a person? Sighing she wondered what it was that he went through to make him be here, right now, standing in the schools lake talking to her. "Why not?" It was a simple yet impactful question. Nevaeh knew people here judged her without knowing who she was or why she was here, that didn't bother her. Infact when she told Regal she use to do drugs, her best friend was shocked, not believing that the girl would even do them. Everyone here needed a friend, even if they didn't think they did. They had to do this together, to get better, to get over the bad sh*t that happened to them back home. Nevaeh noticed a lot of kids here didn't have faith in themselves. Hell, she was one of them. But with the help of Neela, maybe she could get over that and see the good in herself and the world.

"Who's Quinn? And Aiden?"

Putting down her hand she placed it in her hoodie pocket. He was going to be difficult, she could see it now. She sat down next to the lake and took off her shoes, followed by her socks. Placing them right beside each other she rolled up the pants that hung on her legs, dipping her feet into the water. She was shocked that the boy could stand it, it was chilly. As soon as Nevaehs feet fell into the water , goosebumps appeared on her legs. " Aiden is this...guy who is here. He's an @sshole. Thinks hes better then everyone and refuses to think any differently." She wasn't going to tell hm who Quinn was, she hadn't gotten anywhere with him and was going to wait to explain that name that was etched on so many different pages in her journal.

"So, are you satisfied with what you found?" Holding out her hand for her journal, she wanted to know how he felt now that he read what he so desperately wanted to read.

[Cameron Webb]

He wanted to argue with her. It was an impulse that didn't come as much of a surprise to him, especially considering that he hadn't stopped arguing with her much at all since she'd first spoken to him. He wanted to be able to say she was wrong and he wanted to be able to provide so much to back him up, but his mind was blank. He'd smacked into a wall and his failure pissed him off more than the fact that she had come up with something that he couldn't think of a response to. He read. Not a considerable amount, for sure, but he enjoyed books. He enjoyed stories, and those stories were naturally largely composed of characters. He could argue that the people of those stories and those books weren't real, they didn't count - but he wasn't so lacking of foresight that he couldn't see the inevitable response of autobiographies and biographies and novels based on true stories. He could see where he'd been backed into a corner, but, at the same time, he wasn't something in a book. He wasn't something in the newspaper or a magazine. It didn't quite feel like the same thing at all, but he couldn't really see it. He couldn't argue it, despite wanting to so badly.

"Is it that much of a problem for you?"

Setting his jaw, he didn't answer right away. It was a problem for him, it irritated and bothered him, but, for some reason, being called on it, he felt absurd and silly for it. Instead, he could only offer a shrug to her, shifting his weight awkwardly, water stirring around him with his motions. "Not really polite, now is it?" Hypocrisy at its finest, staining his tongue in full. He'd hardly been polite to the girl since she'd spoken to him, so who was he to talk about something being polite? He'd hardly been polite to anyone since he was all of five years old. And he did nothing different from her, armed with sketchbooks stocked with strangers that had no idea.

"Well, it's only fair if you tell me as well."

His eyes had snapped down to the rock that she'd kicked into the lake with him, the ripples spreading out and fading from the spot that it had submerged, but his eyes were soon lifting right back up to her face, squinting his eyes against the sunlight and in general uncertain aggression. She hadn't answered the question, but, at the same time, she'd made it clear that she would. If he did. It was fair that way. However, he only let his gaze drift away to the side, over the stilled surface of the lake, and he brought his shoulders up in a shrug. "Maybe." He muttered, so beneath his breath that she may not have heard him at all.

"Why not?"

Looking back to her, he wasn't sure what to think of even such a simple question. The first thought was to view it as the run around that he was sure it was, his question somehow avoided, or as a cop out of some sort. Why not? "You don't even know me." He responded, certain that it was an answer that actually meant something. She didn't know him and he'd hardly been anything but rude, and she was telling him that she was just trying to be nice. Why? Why not. It didn't make any sense to him at all, and perhaps it should. And that frustrated him because he hated not being able to understand.

Soon she was sitting back to the ground and tugging at the laces of her shoes, causing Cameron to furrow his brow with confusion, watching her closely as she pulled off her own shoes and socks, agile fingers rolling up the legs of her pants before she could stand and move into the lake alongside him. She shivered lightly, presumably from the cold of the water that he'd so determinedly ignored. His head remained bowed as she spoke, describing this Aiden, a fellow student of Horizon that, just as he'd been able to glean from her writing, she did not get along with at all. He was quick to notice, however, that she said nothing of Quinn, his blue eyes dropping back down to the page as if there was anything new for him to pick up on in regards to who this Quinn was. "So, are you satisfied with what you found?" Glancing up through his lashes to the hand that was reaching out for the journal, he was hesitant to return the book, though for no particular reason at all. Finally, he straightened up, his spine rigid, snapping the book shut and returning it to her. "No. Who's Quinn?" He repeated, calling her out on the fact that she'd blatantly ignored him and, because of it - no. He wasn't satisfied.

[Nevaeh McCoy]

"Not really polite, now is it?"

Nevaeh thought about it. Sure, it probably wasn't polite if she was talking bad about the person, but she wasn't. Shrugging her shoulders she shook her head a bit. " I don't think it's polite or rude, its just a normal habit. People write all the time and you never even know it. Some people don't write, but take pictures or sketch. I write and sketch." If no one wrote about anyone then peoples stories would be lost forever in the time that they lived. The people who she wrote about or drew probably didn't mind if she did, she never stopped to ask. Accept one older couple she found sitting on a park bench, they were nice enough to let her sketch them. You could tell how they felt about each other by their eyes. Nevaeh believed everyone had a story, some good and some bad. The ending is what really made the story in her opinion. She didn't like reading fairy tales, they were too boring and bland. Always ending the same: 'Happily Ever After.' No one lived happily ever after, there was always going to be some kind of problems in the world that caused a problem.

"Maybe."

He had to make things difficult, which didn't bother her. Some kids here just did that. She could be a cocky and a b*tch to him, she was good at it. But being here had changed her a little bit already, letting some of her old self go and finding some of her new self. She decided it would be easier if she answered the question herself. " I'm in Wind Dancers. You?" Maybe if she answered and showed him that she was willing to answer his questions, he may answer hers. They could play the questions game all day, it was no problem to Nevaeh. She also wondered why he was so...bitter? Maybe bitter wasn't the best word, maybe it was untrustworthy. He didn't seem as if he was very trusting of anyone. Maybe it had to do with why he was here? Nevaeh knew very well that she would probably never know, the boy didn't open up and maybe that in itself was some of his problem.

"You don't even know me."

It was true, she didn't know him. But that didn't mean she couldn't. " You haven't given me a chance..." He blocked himself off from her the moment she spoke, which wasn't new. She could be intimidating, but wasn't sure if that was this certain case. The truth of the matter was that he probably didn't want her as a friend or even want her to know him. That was something Nevaeh didn't want to push at, but maybe he would come around to the idea of it...just maybe they could be friends. She was a great friend to have, if you gave her a chance.

"No. Who's Quinn?"

So he wasn't satisfied, she had hoped he wouldn't even notice that Nevaeh had skipped that name. She had to think fast...think of something she could say that would cause Nevaeh to even the playing field. Splashing her feet in the water like she was a kid again. Once she decided on what she was going to say, she stopped paddling her feet. " Ya know, I'm answering a whole hell of a lot of questions, and you're not giving any answers back. Not really fair." He wouldn't answer any of her questions so she decided to stop there. She refused to answer anymore until she got some of her own.

[Cameron Webb]

There was a pause between his question and her reply, but he didn't fool himself into believing that he'd made an impact at all. And soon, that was clear as she shrugged it off and shook her head. "I write and sketch." If he were a normal and friendly child, perhaps this would be the opportunity for him to leap on the revelation and offer that he sketched too! He sketched and she sketched, and they could chatter and compare, and perhaps they could even reveal what had inspired them, and it'd all lead into so many other things and everything would be happily ever after. As it was, Cameron discarded the fact as if it were nothing, and shrugged in turn. "It's gotta be something, it can't be neither." He insisted, because it didn't seem possibly for it to be neither rude nor polite. He couldn't comprehend that because it was neither, it could still be something else. A normal habit, as it were.

"I'm in Wind Dancers. You?"

The answer was short and simple, and it came without any more fuss, and then she was asking for him. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, he glanced back to her, paused for a second and uncertain. But there was no room to argue outside of flat-out refusing to answer, which was very much a possibility regardless of its irrationality. Biting the inside of his lip, he glanced off to the side, as if looking at something on the far side of the lake. "Drifters." He returned, his voice low and seemingly distracted, submitting when he very much didn't want to.

"You haven't even given me a chance..."

The fact that she even wanted a chance, still wanted a chance despite his behaviour thus far, was foreign. Strange, and so difficult to grasp. His own family, for the most part, would have given up by this point and wandered off to places where they'd be much more welcome. "There's nothin' to know." He retorted, absolutely convinced of it. There was nothing at all for her to learn and know. She was wasting her time and his, obviously, but, at the same time, something in his tone was almost softened despite the lingering hostility in his posture. As if he was almost allowing her to wear him out, on some level.

Ya know, I'm answering a whole hell of a lot of questions, and you're not giving any answers back. Not really fair."

He'd shifted backwards, his eyes falling down to the water that churned with the way she kicked at it, splashing lightly like a little kid whereas he'd been determined to keep the surface still, but then she refused to answer the question for the second time. Snapping his eyes back up to her and narrowing them on her face, his guard shot up yet again despite the logic of it. She'd given far more answers than she'd received so far, and now she wasn't willing to offer any more leniency. Something about Quinn was making her dig in her heels, but she was making it clear that he wouldn't know until he'd answered more questions. Not until it was fair, not until he backed down and made everything easier. Looking away from her, shifting his weight again and readjusting his bare feet in the mud, he submitted by turning his visual attention from her to something else entirely. "Yeah, well, life isn't really fair." He commented finally, shrugging and slipping his blue eyes back over to her, his head tilted slightly.