A heartbreak.

That's how he would describe his life without even reconsidering such thought. At a very early age, he found the most profound love any person could give him, but not long after that, he knew how easily hearts get broken. What has been freely given to him was quickly taken away. What made it hurt most and broke his heart was the irreplaceability of that one kind of love.

A mother's love, people called it. A heartbreak, he now refers to it.

"You know, you can turn any metal into gold."

With his thoughts drawn to the present, he turned his attention to his dad who was barely focused on driving. With his eyes still fixed on the houses and buildings they passed by and his one hand keeping his chin up against the window, he gripped harder on the locket that rested inside the palm of his other hand.

"Alchemy." His dad continued, "I'm just saying, son. Maybe if you give it a little time, you'll turn that silver locket into gold."

"I doubt it," he blandly replied.

"How long has it been?" his dad asked, almost rhetorically. "Four years? I know it's been a rough four years, especially for you, but..."

"I know, dad."

His dad just sighed and just kept his eyes and thoughts on the road. Ever since his wife passed on, their son slowly drew away from him. They were once inseparable – just another dad and his little boy who thought of each other as their own source of strength. One's hero and the other's playful sidekick. However, without the glue that held them, without the one and only source of both their powers, it was as if anything in the world could easily separate them. And so the hero kept careful watch on his sidekick. He wouldn't want his little buddy turning into a villain just because of a heartbreak.

For the past years, he did everything he could for his son. Though, he knew that growing up wasn't easy especially when something very dear to them both gets taken away. Add to that, he really wasn't the kind of father anyone would hope for in times of desperation. For the first year and a half since his wife died, he went back to his old habit of drinking and almost forgot that an eight year old boy, then turning nine, depended on him so much.

"Foster, I'm sorry," he despondently said. He thought it funny, badly so, that his child almost ended up as a foster kid. A foster named Foster. Thankfully, he picked himself up again and was now reaching out to salvage their damaged relationship.

Foster sighed and tucked the silver locket in his jean's pocket. Turning towards the rear-view mirror, he smiled at his father's reflection.

They both knew, however, that a smile could easily look so empty.

"Want me to pick you up after school?"

"No," Foster answered as he got out of the car, having stopped in front of his school. "I'm gonna hang around for a bit later."

Before Foster could slam the door shut, his father reminded, with his tone changing to that of genuine concern, "Always remember, son, you're a good-hearted boy. Think of your mom, okay."

Foster nodded and sighed, successfully dodging the urge to roll his eyes, then shut the car door and walked towards the school's main entrance. His father sighed, praying silently, then left for his work.

His hands over his pocket, his bag lazily drawn over his back and his eyes just sweeping the ground, Foster leisurely walked through the hallway to get to first period. His thoughts, despite how much he denied to himself, always kept going back to his mom. He told no one about how deeply he missed having his mother around. It certainly wasn't worthwhile to talk about it to his friends. The only things he knew that they all cared about were computer games, girls on some occasions and jerking off as the most discussed topic. Except one particular friend and he was thankful for that.

They were good friends, he justified. Mike, Peter and Joey. Sure, they make fun of others once in a while, but they weren't like the big jerks around school. Gossips and teasing were ordinarily exchanged around campus and as much as girls liked to gossip, boys tossed around a lot of insults but none so serious as to get them in trouble.

Making a left turn, he swore he hit the softest pole as he stumbled and hit his butt on the ground.

"Oh my dear, sorry," the `soft pole' he bumped into spoke. "Are you hurt?"

Lifting his chin up to see the other person, he found no words to answer such a simple question.

"Are you okay? Do we need to get you to the clinic?"

Foster pushed himself up, reluctantly accepting the stranger's help to get to his feet. His eyes were still focused on the other person who was clearly a lot of years older than him, but just old enough to be his...

"What's your name, dear?"

"Uhm...," he stuttered. "Foster...ma'am."

The lady smiled adoringly and dusted off Foster's shirt which was just a gesture of hers that meant that she was still very sorry for bumping into the boy.

"I'm Carol," the lady said. "I just dropped by the principal's office for some business and I really am sorry that I bumped you. We can get you to the clinic and..."

"It's okay, Ms. Carol. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither was I, Foster," the lady chuckled. "I guess we were both clumsy, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Foster resounded, a small smile adoring his face. A smile that...

"You should smile more often," Carol told him, her hands gently resting on Foster's shoulders. "It suits you."

Foster nodded absently, his consciousness completely drawn into Carol's affectionate eyes. No one's ever told him, lovingly so, to smile more often. And this lady he happened to bump into, as much as he tried to subdue the feeling, made him feel comfortable and deeply cared for.

"You should get to your class, Foster, dear," Carol reminded. "I don't want to make you late. I already made you fall and I don't want to be more of a bad person today."

"Okay," Foster whispered. "And..."

Carol raised an eyebrow, seeing that the boy paused and was almost hesitant to continue.

"...and I don't think you're a bad person, Ms. Carol. I know it."

She smiled, more adoringly this time and patted Foster's hair. "Thanks, dear. I can say the same about you. See you around, okay?"

Foster nodded as Carol passed him and went on her way. For the last time, perhaps, he looked toward the nice lady and thought twice before calling out, "Ms. Carol! Do you teach here?" Surely she does, right? She did say that she'll see him around.

Carol turned around momentarily and answered, "Sadly, no. I am a teacher, though more of a private tutor."

"Oh."

Somehow, Carol sensed Foster's disheartened tone so she added, "I just went here to enrol my son. He'll start school once Christmas break's over. So you'll probably see me around on his first day."

"Okay, I will!" Foster eagerly shouted. Then, sensing embarrassment, he hurriedly waved goodbye and ran toward his class. Already, he was planning on seeing Ms. Carol once winter break was over. She just felt so nice to talk to and he had never thought that he'd see his mother in some stranger. Strange as it was, he also thought it funny that he'd be waiting outside some kindergartener's classroom just to see Ms Carol on her son's first day of school. After winter break, that is.

So it was that Foster's mind kept drifting towards his brief encounter with Ms. Carol as another day in school dragged on. He made it just in time for his first period and met up with his friends, Mike, Peter and Joey. Switching from one class to the next, the boys had their usual conversation about the newest games on the market and their budding fascination with the opposite sex. In fact, it was during one particular conversation at lunch hour when Foster's thoughts managed to steer away from Ms. Carol.

"Fos," Mike said, almost munching his words along with his sandwich, "that girl's totally checking you out."

Foster, or simply Fos to his friends and sometimes even Fossie when they felt giggly and goofy, glanced towards the other table where he saw the girl pointed out by his friend. Normally, he wouldn't care so much. But, something definitely caught his attention this time.

"She's new in town," Joey informed. "Her family came from a rich neighbourhood in the nearby city. Her dad is a commodities broker and her mom's a dentist. She's into theatre and even cosplays."

"That's Joey for you," Peter quipped. "Our very own gossip machine."

Joey lightly hit Peter's shoulder and said, "She's the talk in the hallways, dude. How can you not know her?"

"Know her, I do," Peter justified. "Stalker, I'm not."

"Oh, sure," Joey said, rolling his eyes. "Keep talking like Master Yoda and you'll end up looking like him." Then, it was Peter's turn to lightly hit him on the shoulder to which he jokingly said, "Ow!"

Even with all the chit-chat among his friends, Foster only kept looking at the girl and he was really hoping to catch her looking back at him. Those braided brown locks reminded him of someone and even with her back towards him, he sort of felt this all-too-familiar aura.

`She cosplays, huh,' Foster thought, squinting his eyes and almost tuning out his friends when he finally felt Peter's firm grip on his shoulder.

"You interested?" Peter asked him.

"No," he answered with half his attention still on the girl.

"You should totally ask her out," Joey told him. "You're definitely her type."

"Her what?" Foster asked, looking at Joey seriously.

"She likes you, dude," Joey clarified. "Blue-eyed, blonde jock looking kid. Totally her type. At least, that's what I heard. And c'mon, she won't have to know you're a geek."

Joey's shoulder almost got bruised when Foster hit him. Instead of retaliating or coming up with a smartass response, he immediately noticed a very determined look in Foster's deep cerulean eyes.

"Foster," a name so often used when they all got serious, as Peter now mumbled, "She's not the one you told us about, is she?"

"Feels like it," Foster told them. "I bet you guys that she's no girl."

They all exchanged looks before Mike, Peter and Joey all had their attention turned towards Foster. Still deliberating on his thoughts, Foster stared blankly at his lunch. He was taken back to over a month ago and he felt sure that's when he met the girl they were all so concerned about right now. However, he felt pretty sure that she was in fact a he.

"We could get in trouble," Peter remarked. "Whatever you're thinking Foster, we could get in serious trouble."

"Don't worry," Foster told him. "I'm planning to do this on my own. You guys just stay back."

"You sure?"

"Definitely," Foster resolved. "She's the demon princess."

And so within that same day, Foster decided to expose the imposter who pretended to be the `talk of the hallways' these past couple of months. The monster he felt sure was hiding behind a pretty face. He wouldn't let himself be fooled by those deep brown eyes that did manage to look back at him and that warm smile that she offered. `He, not she,' he reminded himself.

After lunch hour, Foster kept running the plan he had in mind in his head. It was simple enough. He'd catch the imposter off-guard in the hallways where everyone would surely notice. Then, when everyone's attention was on him and the girl, he'd do something drastic, dangerously so, to let the whole school know that the beautiful girl truly kept a snake hidden underneath.

When school finally let out and the children slowly crowding the hallways, Foster along with his friends trailing behind, scanned the locker areas in their building. Seeing that the girl had lunch at their building's cafeteria, he knew that the monster was somewhere around their age. Their school had different buildings for the kindergarten, the elementary and middle school classes. And the middle school building wasn't large enough that he'd get himself lost without spotting his target.

After just a few minutes of walking around, he saw the girl with her braided brown hair together with other girls he was acquainted with. At their age, boys rarely hung out with girls. There was only those fleeting occasions when a boy dared to ask a girl out. Even then, that boy's group of friends never hung out with the girl's group of gossiping machines. It was due to some kind of middle school rule. Different posses stemmed out of it, not one involving girls and boys getting together as a group.

Foster approached the group which caught the attention of one of the girls who whispered to the brown haired new girl. The imposter turned her eyes to Foster and offered a warm smile. Mike, Peter and Joey kept a small distance between them and Foster, but they still trailed behind, feeling anxious with what was about to take place.

"May I help you?" the brown haired girl asked.

Foster shrugged and said, "Sure. How `bout you tell us who you really are."

This got the girl raising an eyebrow with a hint of confusion in her deep brown eyes. She ignored what she felt was hidden in Foster's words and said, "I'm Hannah. You are?"

"Screw it, princess," Foster snarled. "I know who you are. You think you can just hide behind a girl's name and I won't notice?"

The girl's expression turned from confusion to unease which, to Foster, was a wordless admission of her worst fear. Foster smirked, knowing that he got the girl in his clutches and he wasn't about to let go of this opportunity to unmask a fraud.

"Hands up, sissy," Foster almost growled. "Tell everyone who you truly are."

Hannah, feeling both annoyed and frightened, raised her hand to slap Foster, but he was quick to hold her wrist tight which took out a hurtful moan from her.

"Foster, stop it!" the other girls shouted.

"Back off!" Foster yelled back. "She's not a girl, okay? Do you guys even know that? She's a monster! A demon princess!"

Mike hurried to his friend's side to try and release Foster's death grip on the girl's wrist. However, Foster quickly gripped Hannah's skirt and just when he was about to pull it down to reveal even just a glimpse of the snake's bulge, he felt a hard slap across his face which sent him stumbling backwards, releasing his grip, where Mike caught his fall.

"You dare touch me again," Hannah warned, her voice trembling and her eyes teary. "I swear to God, I'll kick you hard in the balls."

A crowd began to gather around them, but that didn't concern any of them. Foster's eyes fixed on Hannah's and it was then that a sudden realization hit him.

"C'mon," Hannah said, turning back to her friends. "You were right. He's a total jerk."

With Foster's resolve thrown out of him, he could only stare confusedly at Hannah's retreating figure. She looked back at him over her shoulders and gave him a mean and disgusted look. Mike helped him stand rightly on his feet again and asked, "What the hell was that, dude?!"

"I...I dunno," Foster responded.

"You still sure it's her you told us about?"

Foster didn't answer nor gesture in response. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows just as Hannah's group turned a corner and disappeared from his sight. The crowd which gathered earlier went back to their own business and it was as if nothing happened in that hallway. But, deep down, Foster knew something snapped in him. Hannah's slap sort of woke something sleeping inside him for a very long time. And he didn't like it.

Foster walked home with Peter. Mike and Joey both lived in a different neighbourhood and the two bid farewell earlier. Foster still didn't want to talk about what happened earlier and Peter wasn't being such a persistent asshole about it. If it were Joey, though, he knew he'd cave in and tell his friend what made him so aggressive in the first place then hesitant when a slap finally woke him up.

It was the silence that Peter allowed him to have that he was thankful for. They didn't need to talk about anything and it wouldn't feel awkward at all. But, he could also say that he knew Peter better than anyone else. Even better that both Mike and Joey. And the boy, as much as he could stand this comfortable silence, was a terrific listener.

So without even thinking twice, Foster went down a detour and he was pretty sure that Peter would follow. This way, it would take them twice as long to get home. They both lived in the same neighbourhood, just a few houses from each other. And Foster knew this route all too well.

"You don't mind if we...," Foster started, but was quickly cut off by Peter.

"Sure, it's okay."

A few more minutes of quietly walking towards their destination gave Foster some time to think of what he was going to say later. How could he relate such story to someone? He had been a jerk, he knew that. But he didn't even care or feel awful about it until his encounter with Hannah earlier. He shoved his right hand into his pocket and searched for the silver locket he always kept with him. The treasure calmed his troubled heart when nothing else could. Feeling the intricacies of the locket, he felt his heart finding that much needed solace once more and it gave him enough courage to see this day through.

"Foster?" Peter whispered beside him. "I know I don't usually ask this, but...are you okay?"

"Not really," Foster replied.

"You know I'm always here, right?"

Foster's heart tightened, his hand gripping hard around the locket.

"Sure," he mumbled and Peter didn't need to say any more to understand that Foster wanted to just continue walking silently.

After a couple of minutes, they finally arrived at their destination. They walked pass the huge gates and surveyed the mowed landscape of the place while making sure to stay in the path. Foster may knew this place already like the back of his hand, but to Peter, it was still so foreign and each time he went here with Foster, he still felt disconnected to what Foster may have felt all this time. God knows he wanted so much to understand his friend, but Foster wasn't making that any easier. Peter chose to just respect that.

They made a turn left along the path and eventually ended on a lone patch of grass among several others, each with a gravestone embedded or erected on the ground. Foster knelt in front of one while Peter just stood behind him. Silence was still a welcome guest.

"Hey, mom," Foster greeted, unmindful of whether Peter was listening to his grieving voice or not. In all the years they've known each other, Peter knew how hard it was for him to lose him mom. Beyond that knowledge, Peter knew nothing about how Foster truly felt. "Guess what?"

Nobody answered, of course. Foster was talking to the dead it would take a miracle for his mom to answer back.

"I did something terrible today," he admitted, as he did every time he felt awful about something he did. The last time he had been here was almost a couple of months back and during the night when no one else could see his sulking figure. He had confided back then about something terrible he did to someone. "You remember that girl I told you about?"

A small chuckle escaped his lips. To Peter's ears, it was full of pain.

"Only, he wasn't really a girl, right?" Foster continued. "I swear I saw her...uh...him again today at school. There's this new girl named Hannah and she looks exactly like him. Well..."

Foster paused, taking a deep breath in.

"Well, not really," he said. "They don't look the same at all. It's just..."

It was then that Peter placed a hand on Foster's shoulder. Foster took another deep breath, held it and calmed himself.

"I still feel awful about what I did back then, mom. I'm sorry...I really am and..." Foster felt Peter's hand squeeze his shoulders lightly as if urging the words to come out and be whispered to the wind. "If I see him again, I'll apologize and I won't be a jerk anymore. I don't want to disappoint you. I promise."

Then the boys greeted silence once again. Foster shifted himself to sit in front of his mother's grave and Peter sat next to him. Both their hands were unmindfully picking out the weeds that began to grow. It didn't snow where they lived, but the weather was still pretty gloomy and cool.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Foster said, his eyes still drawn afar, but his tone addressing Peter. "I almost got you guys in trouble."

"Don't worry, Fossie," Peter uttered his friend's childhood nickname. "Really, the only one who almost got in trouble was you. I can tell that she slapped you hard, though."

Foster chuckled at the recent memory.

"I'm trying my best not to be a jerk, Peter," he continued. "I really am."

"We all know you're not a jerk, dude. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"But I am," Foster argued, eyeing his friend earnestly. "Ever since mom died, I don't know who I am anymore. Besides that."

"Trust me," Peter said, staring into his friends eyes sincerely. "We can all be jerks sometimes, but you're no bigger jerk than...than those smug eighth graders. Sure, we act out sometimes, but that's just us growing up. I know for sure that you're a swell guy, inside and out."

Peter's sincerity moved Foster's uneasy heart. He smiled, silently thanking his friend's companionship.

"Smiling suits you," Peter said. "With the blue eyes and all, you're like an angel."

"That sounds gay, dude," Foster said, bluffing disgust. "But you know, I met someone today who told me exactly the same. Do you really think a smile suits me?"

"Of course it suits you," justified Peter. "And who did you meet? Don't tell me it's Hannah."

They both giggled before Foster said, "Ms. Carol. I just bumped into her this morning. Literally bumped into her. Her son's starting school after winter break and I was hoping...you know..."

"You were hoping to see her again?" Peter supplied. "Do you have a crush on her?"

"No!" Foster defensively yelled. "Geez, man, she's as old as my mom if she were..."

Another pause, but Peter knew exactly what Foster meant.

"You see your mom in her, don't you?"

Silently and wistfully, Foster nodded with his eyes fixed on the ground.

"It's normal, Fossie," Peter said. "You just miss your mom a lot."

"No, you don't understand," mumbled Foster. "It's not just that." Then, he took out the locket from his pocket and held the treasure in his palm. "It's like...she's really my mom, you know? I just feel comfortable around her and I didn't even notice smiling at her. And you know something else?"

"What?"

"When I was talking with her, I forgot about this little thing," Foster said, showing Peter the locket he held. "It was in my pocket the whole time, but I swear, it's like it wasn't there. I mean, I didn't need to hold it or think about it to feel calm around some stranger. She really was just like...you know..."

"Like your mom was there in front of you?"

Foster nodded and said, "Exactly."

The boys stayed silent, finding nothing more to say or talk about. When the sound of thunder echoed, they looked up and saw how dark the clouds had turned into. Without saying anything, they both got up and made their way back to the road. They had taken a long detour and they hoped that the rain wouldn't pour just yet. Thankfully, they made it back home with their clothes all dry.

"I almost forgot," Peter said as he pulled something out from his backpack and handed it to Foster. They stood in front of Foster's home. "Here's the blaster rifle you loaned me for a week. My little brother had a blast with it."

Foster took his blaster rifle replica and asked, "When will I see that rascal brother of yours again? We had loads of fun when the two of you came over last time."

"Dunno, Fos," Peter replied, shrugging his shoulders. "As much as I love the little dude, our dad and my stepdad still don't get along pretty well. Not since that incident last summer. Half brothers like me and Dylan don't get to spend much time anymore. I'm hopeful, though. The grown-ups are starting to think that it's best for us kids to get to know each other like real brothers should."

"I'm sorry, man. I just wish I had a little brother, you know. That's impossible now."

"Your old man may still find someone," Peter offered, but Foster just shrugged. "I know you think your mom's irreplaceable. But what if your dad does find another lady he falls in love with? Shouldn't you at least be happy for him?"

"I don't think so," Foster replied and turned towards their front door. "See you, Peter. Say hi to Dylan for me and thanks...for earlier."

Peter had to walk a few more yards from Foster's house to get home and the two just said their goodbyes by the sidewalk. When Foster got to his room, he quickly dropped his things and went to his bedside table. The few books on it stood alphabetically adjacent to each other, from one title to the next. He liked reading novels of various lengths, but these few books that found their place on top of his bedside table were his favourite ones. Or the ones that his mom used to read to him when he was younger.

He pulled a drawer open and got out a small box. He took the locket out, opened the box and placed his treasure on top of a tiny cushion. Hesitantly, he clicked the locket open and stared longingly at a small photo of his mom. None of her appearance resembled that of Ms. Carol's. The two women didn't look the same. However, Foster still felt the same comfortable atmosphere that his mom drew around him from Ms. Carol. That alone must have reminded him so much about his mom. That, and the three words engraved on the lid of the locket.

Always with you.

Foster closed the lid, the box and tucked his treasure safely inside the drawer. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting farther into space.

`Hannah,' he thought. `You're not him, are you?'

~ End of Chapter ~