I could hear Nick, Zeke, and Dien moving around the next morning, getting ready to go off and do what they had planned for our day off from the tour we were on. Once they left I realized I couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to just get up and start my day as well.

   Cameron was snoring in his bunk, catching up on his sleep like he had said he wanted to. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbed a Monster out of the mini-fridge, cracking it open. Grabbing my laptop, I went over to the small couch and sat down.

   As I waited for my computer to boot up, I went on a search for something to eat. There was only one package of Blueberry Muffin Poptarts left, so I took those and tossed the box in the trash. I hadn't checked my e-mail at all during the tour, so I figured I would tackle that now. My breath caught in my throat and I choked a little on my Poptart bite when I saw who had sent the first e-mail.

   "Trystin?" I whispered to myself.

   Opening the e-mail, I prepared myself for whatever it might say.

Hey, how come we haven't heard from you in so long?

 Didn't you always say that when you got famous you wouldn't 

forget the "little people"? We've been following your band 

since the beginning and we really wish you would come here 

some time during your tour, but I checked your website 

and you're not. Tell me why you left and have yet to turn back. 

Trystin

   I deleted the message without replying. I knew it was rude, he'd been sending me e-mails for five years and I have never responded to any of them. I had hoped he would realize I wasn't going to answer and just stop, hoped that he would figure out that is just wasn't worth the effort. I wanted to answer his messages, but I had reasons to leave and reasons I never wanted to go back.

   The rest of my e-mails were wither deleted, replied to, or left there so I could check them later. Since I hadn't checked any of my messaged in three months, it took me a while to get through them all. As I was shutting down my laptop, Cameron rolled out of bed. Unlike most people, Cameron Moncrief could roll out of bed and his hair was perfect. That little fact really got on Dien's nerves.

   I washed up a bit while Cameron got himself some breakfast. His hair may be perfect when he wakes up, but for the first hour or so, he was nearly non-functional; he wasn't even able to fully open his eyes for at least 45 minutes, and it was a bad idea to try and start a conversation with him because you would only get grunts for most of that hour.

   "I was thinking of checking the band site today," I told him once I made my way back out to where he was. I checked the clock, one hour down. Conversations were a go.

   "I already did that yesterday," he said. "Speaking of which, there area  lot of messages from some kids named Trystina dn Krystena, they sound like they know you."

   "Maybe they were fans we met at a signing once or twice. You know how attached some of these fans get."

   "Possible, but one said that they wanted to see you again and wanted to know why you weren't replying to their e-mails."

   That wasn't good. What if he said something that clued Cameron, Nick, Dien, or Zeke off? "Don't know. Ya done?" I grabbed his plate from in front of him and threw it away.

   "Is there something I should know about these kids?" he inquired.