•Prologue•••••• •••••••••••••••••• "Jessabelle, your mom will be with us forever. I love you. And I hope you know that," Dad mumbled, keeping a firm grip on my hand as he tugged me along to the car. I looked back only once that day. "Daddy...don't leave me," I gasped out my words, slamming my hands against the window of the car as he shut it and ran back up to the house. I frantically search for my mason jar, popping off the lid and pulling out the picture of mom and dad and I. I wipe tears off my cheeks, hugging the picture to my chest. "I'll never forget you mom," I whisper to myself, turning around in my seat to press my small hands against the window. •Chapter 1(11 years later)••••••• •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• My thumb taps frantically on the window, my crystal blue eyes staring at my sketch pad. I run my other hand over my coloring pencils, closing my eyes to smile as I do. Blanc runs over to my table, sliding into the other booth. Her brown hair is a mess and it's obvious she ran here. "Jesse! You'll never believe what I just heard," she shrieks in her girly squeal. "Okay, surprise me." I giggle, putting my hands under my chin. "Jake Pierce is in town!!!!" She squeals, standing up as if to give herself a standing ovation. "Who?" I mumble, confused. And at that moment, the door opens and the bell rings. A tall guy with shaggy messy blond hair, a backwards baseball cap, jeans, converse, and a Hollister shirt walks in and sits at a barstool. Blanc stands up and grabs my wrist, dragging me over to one of the bar stools. She sits beside him and I sit on the other side of her. "Jakebson Pierce? I'm Blanc Harper. From the La reporters bureau," Blanc says with stardust in her green eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm on vacation. No reporters," he says, looking over and stopping once he sees me. Blanc nudges me. "Oh. I'm Jesse," I mumble, not looking up from my sketch pad. His gaze never breaks. "Here's my card," Blanc smiles, handing him a white card. He stuffs it in his back pocket. He reaches over beside the barstool and pulls out a sketch pad identical to mine. I sit mine down beside his. "Thanks Martha," I say, sitting a 5$ on the table and grabbing my sketch pad as I walk out the door. I walk down the sidewalk for three blocks until I get to Aunt Emily's apartment. I knock on the door. Emily opens it, rubbing her tired eyes. "Morning Jessabelle," she smiles, letting me in. I sit at the kitchen table, opening my sketch pad and flipping to my last used page. I stare at the paper, blank minded. Where there was once a bird in a willow tree, there is now a dog at a lake, looking for an owner. "No no no no no!" I gasp, frantically gasping for air as I flip through the pages to the very front. My name was once here with hearts covering the page. Now, in green marker, lay the words Jakebson Michael. •Chapter 2•••• ••••••••••••••••• I scramble out the door and to the cafe, running with my backpack and my sneakers slung over my shoulder. I swing open the cafe door and the seat he was at is empty. I run out the door, not stopping until I'm six blocks down at the La Reporters Industries. I spot Blanc and i pull her to the side. "Blanc Harper!!!!!! You have to help me!!!" I whisper yell, fighting the tears running down my cherry cheeks. "Jess what's wrong?" She asks. Brushing back her own hair. "Our sketch pads got mixed up. The one I got from my mom is gone and I have his," I whimper, wiping off my tears. "Jessabelle! Who has your sketch pad?" She asks, placing her hands on my shoulders. "Jake!" I yelp. "Come with me." I follow her out the industries and down the block to a hotel called Marryweather Inn. She walks right in and heads for the elevator. "Blanc! You can't just walk into a hotel and run into the elevator!" I whisper in her ear. "Fine. Room 319. I'll stay down here and you go get it," she mumbles, backing off the elevator and letting me in. I push the 3rd floor button. When the door opens, there he is. "Oh my god. It's you!" He yelps, gasping for air as he climbs onto the elevator. "Yeah I came as fast as I could. Where's my sketch book???" I say, looking into his hazel eyes. He pulls out my book and I take it as I hand him his. "Is your Blanc reporter friend here?" He mumbles, looking back at me. "Yeah. Why?" The doors open and I run to the spot Blanc was supposed to meet me. She wasn't there, but her stuff is. "JESSE!HELP!" A scream utters from the doorway. By the time I get there, she's already gone.