Oh, Cierra's story is "Alice Through The Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll

"Yeah?" She replied absently, not looking up from her reader. School had ended only a few short hours ago, but Cierra was still trying to catch up on her work.

"Umm, I was just wondering....Do you ever remember...y'know?"

"Duh! No, I don't know. Remember what Siku?" Cierra looked puzzled, and turned to her friend. It wasn't that difficult to distract her from school work, no matter urgent the task was. Siku's watchful eye was usually the only thing that kept her on track. Siku was usually much more direct in her questions as well.

"Your...dad." Siku grew quiet. "I think about that sometimes, about... if my dad ever-"

"Come on Siku!" She rolled her eyes. Cierra was used to Siku's recent fears regarding her extended family, and often consoled her. She always managed to convince Siku of how silly she was being, that worrying about something you can't do anything about was a waste of time. "Your dad's not going anywhere. Sheesh! Doesn't he lock himself in his lab most of the time anyway?"

"Yeah," Siku stared at the floor, "but I still worry. So...do you?" She tried the question again. Cierra knew the subject of death had been dwelling on her friend's mind lately. More so than it ever had before. Her Uncle Remy's close call was the first thing to start her thinking about it, and now after what had happened to her Uncle Scott... No one Siku knew had ever actually died. Her dad has always been able to fix everything. Cierra was well aware of how sensitive a subject it could be, and that the past little while had been difficult for her best friend.

"Sometimes," Cierra shrugged, and then became a little quieter as she looked down at her reader. "I was really young when he- when he died."

"What do you remember?" Siku looked to her friend curiously. They'd never actually talked about Cierra's father. Cierra hadn't brought it up and Siku hadn't asked. Until now. "If you don't want to talk about it I-"

"No, it's okay." She didn't mind. Maybe Siku needed to hear what she had to say. It couldn't hurt. "Mostly I remember...stories, and painting, lots of things."

"Like what?"

'The Eighth Square at last!' she cried as she bounded across, and threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with little flower-beds dotted about it here and there.

'Oh, how glad I am to get here! And what is this on my head?' she exclaimed in a tone of dismay, as she put her hands up to something very heavy, and fitted tight all round her head.

'But how can it have got there without my knowing it?' she said to herself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what it could possibly be.

It was a golden crown.

'Well this is grand!' said Alice. 'I never expected I should be a Queen so soon -- and I'll tell you what it is, your Majesty,' she went on in a severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself), 'it'll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that! Queens have to be dignified, you know!'

"I'm gonna be a queen someday daddy!"

"Oh really?"

"Yup. I'm going to be Queen Cierra, Queen of the world!" Cierra bounced up on the bed, and did her best and most dignified curtsey.

"Then I shall be your gallant knight," her father bowed to her with a flourish. Grabbing her baton, he began a mock battle with an imaginary enemy. "Take that you nasty dragon!"

"Eeek!" Cierra giggled and dashed out of the room, down the hall. Her father quickly followed. Scooping her up, and gently carrying her into the next room.

"You're silly!" Cierra looked curiously around the room they had entered. It was her father's studio, and she had learnt from past mistakes never to touch anything in there. The last time she'd broken that rule, she'd spent hours in the tub getting the paint off. She now preferred pencil crayons. Noticing a new easel, she squirmed out of her father's arms, and ran to it. "You started a new one!"

"Yes I did. I started it yesterday." "What're you doing?" The swirls of paint were ambiguous, and Cierra hadn't yet wrapped her mind around the idea of abstract art.

"Well, I'm not sure yet, exactly..."

"Daaaad!" Cierra's father was notorious for starting to paint without having a clue as to what he was painting, abstract or not. Miraculously the pieces always seemed to turn out perfectly, after weeks of indecision that is.

Cierra perked up suddenly. The distinctive creaking of the front door could be heard throughout the brownstone, all the way to the studio on the top floor.

"Mom!" Cierra bounded downstairs with an enthusiasm denying the fact that it was well past her bedtime.

"You should be in bed you rugrat!" Paula caught her daughter as she came flying off the bannister, "And stop sliding down that thing. I swear, wherever you learned that I..."

"But Mom, we were attacked by a dragon! Daddy showed me his paintin' too."

"Oh he did? Where are you, you flake?" Paula called.

"Right here dearest." Jackson Miles sauntered downstairs.

"It's after nine and...mmmmmm." He cut off his wife's complaints with a kiss. It was his favorite way of ending a potential argument. Cierra was not impressed by her parents open affection.

"Oh YUK! Daaaaad!" Cierra's second attempt at berating her father was as unsucessful as the first.

"What? You want one too?" Cierra squealed and jumped up a few stairs. Jackson had a slightly off sense of humour, and was always laid back. A true daydreamer. He refused to worry about what he called "small potatoes", which covered pretty much everything. Her mom tended to look after those sort of things. Cierra remembered her mom's mood when nasty letters from someone called Bill came to the house, and shuddered. Her mom was definitely the one who ran this family, or at least kept it afloat. Her dad seemed to do all the other little things, like chasing queen eating dragons.

"Ummm, well..." Paula started, a little flustered by the greeting she had just recieved. "Cierra, I think it's time for you to be in bed."

"O-kay," Cierra gave in. Her dad she could distract, but her mom? Not likely. She flung her arms wide in silent command. Jackson lifted her up and carried her back upstairs. Yup, she was most definetly her father's daughter.

Her bedroom was decorated in bright rich colours. Her parents had gone a little overboard in its design, but Cierra loved it. There was even a spot on the wall for her to draw and paint herself. So far it only had some crayon doodles and a blue handprint. Her dad called it a "work in progress".

"Good night, sleep tight...and don't let the bedbugs bite!" Cierra giggled, her Dad said that EVERY night. Once she'd actually crawled under her bed to check for bedbugs, and triumphantly announced to her father that there were none. A week later she checked again, and found three glow-in -the-dark bugs painted in the wall behind her bed.

"Your Dad was an artist?" Siku looked surprised.

"Yup. Where do you think we got all those paintings?"

Siku seemed to take a moment to think about this. Cierra's home was as covered with paintings as crammed with furniture. The rooms were an endless mismash of colour and shape.

"I guess I always thought of your Dad as more... more like Uncle Scott actually."

Cierra laughed at the comparison, realizing what had gotten her friend thinking about her father. "No way!"

"Cierra! Get up lazybones. You know we have to get there early!" Cierra rolled over and covered her ears at her Mother's call. There was no getting around it, it was Saturday. Saturday's were for hunting, hunting funrniture, hunting antiques, hunting neat stuff in general. The only problem was in getting up at 7am.

Suddenly a shock of cold wetness hit her check. "Mom! That's the kitty gun!"

"Whatever works. Now up!" Paula grinned. The water gun was for training Paula's cat, who had turned out to be rather fond of clawing at canvas. Paws usually kept to herself in the basement, and was not the most playful of creatures. Cierra didn't like her, and often cast the cat in the role of villian when she played "pretend".

Her mom had already laid out her clothes, and Cierra dressed herself. It was something she'd only started doing recently, after she'd thrown a fit and demanded that she was big enough to do it on her own. She usually got it right, and other times had to be rearranged. She pulled on her jumper and socks, and hopped downstairs with her hairbursh. Her father was making breakfast and her mom was scanning the newspaper for sales.

"Mom? Can you fix my hair?"

"What? Oh, sure," Paula grabbed the brush and Cierra sat down in front of her. "We have some bargain hunting to do today. And if you're lucky, we'll stop at the market."

Cierra eyes lit up, "Really?" She loved going to the market. There were so many things and people to look at there. Cierra loved busy places. She'd never been a shy child, and tended to climb all over people - literally. Her mother worried that she'd get lost in a crowd, and had previously employed the use of a harness - which Cierra promptly learned how to unbuckle. She was extremely creative, and her imagination often ran wild. Jackson usually carried her on his shoulders now. It kept her in one place, and gave her a great view.

Paula finished fastening her daughter's coppery hair into a loose braid. This was their usual morning routine. Her father finished the breakfast, always pancakes on Saturday, and they ate before heading out.

"We need to get more syrup at the market."

"Put in on the list." Lists were a MUST. No one ever remembered anything in her house unless it was written down. Then the problem was remembering to take the list. Cierra often grabbed it and stuck it in her pocket before one of her parents lost it. I was a job her mom had given her, noticing how she zealously guarded anything she was given.

In the driveway sat a run down half ton truck. It barely fit the three of them, but they needed the space in the cab for supplies. They drove around for a couple of hours, visiting various garage sales and the like. Later would come the market, and in the evening there were always auctions.

"You went to auctions?"

"Yeah. The ones where they sell stuff that used to belong to somebody. We got a lot of stuff like that. I could never understand what they were saying though, they talk waaay too fast if you ask me. They were part of the market, only later on after dinner. My mom and dad actually met at an auction."

"Really?"

"Yep. Mom told me that it was love at first sight. I hope I meet someone like that. They only knew each other two months before they got married." Cierra held up two fingers to illustrate her point. She found the shortness of their courtship, and her mother's explanation of it, very romantic.

"Neat." Siku waited for Cierra to continue. "Cierra?"

"He died at the market." she said softly.

"It's just starting to get busy. If we're lucky we'll get enough time to look around before the place is swamped." Paula jumped eagerly out of the truck. Her mother was usually pretty down to earth, but on Saturday morning she could turn into a little kid. Cierra liked it. It was fun hunting for treasure. Her dad helped her out of the truck, and locked the doors, while her mother was already part way across the parking lot.

"Mom! Wait for us!" Cierra started to run as soon as her feet touched the ground.

"Ci!" Cierra felt somebody touch her and she was shoved forward. Falling down, she skinned her knees and started crying. "Dad!" she cried out, her knees stinging, and she looked back. There was a road between the parking lot and the market, and the line of cars along it were at a stand still. Cierra couldn't see where he dad was for the van that had stopped in front of her.

"DAD!"

"Cierra? Cierra are you alright?" Paula reached her daughters side.

"Somebody pushed me! Where's Dad?" Cierra's crying lessened.

Paula looked back, her face a pale shade of white "Oh God. Jackson." Her voice came out as a whisper and Cierra hadn't heard her.

"Mom?" The people who had been in the van had gotten out. Their faces drawn and pained. One of them came over to where Paula sat in shock.

"I'm so sorry. We didn't see... I have a cel phone. We called for an ambulance and-" Paula pushed past her and ran to the van.

"Mom! Mommy..." Cierra tried to get up, but the lady held her. "Let me go!" Cierra tried to pull away from her.

"I think you'd better stay here." The strange woman held her arm tightly. "Can you tell me your name?"

"NO!" Cierra kicked her in the shin. She wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, and her mom had just run away. "LET ME GO!" She screamed and pulled her arm out of the woman's grasp. She bolted for the van and was caught by another, this time it was a big man with a bushy beard.

"Now darlin' I think you oughta..."

"I want my MOM!" Cierra started kicking and tried to bite the man. Her temper tantrums were reknowned throughout the neighbourhood babysitting service.

"OW!"

"Cierra?" Her mom came back from the other side of the van and took her from the large man's arms, holding her tightly. Her make-up was ruined.

"Mom, where's Daddy?"

"He's.. he's resting right now. " Paula closed her eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Cierra reached up to wipe off her mom's face, but her hands were pushed away.

"Mom?"

"You were there?" Siku looked stunned.

"He died saving me. I shouldn't have run out into the road-"

"You were just little, Cierra."

"I know," she answered quietly. She understood that, it didn't mean that it didn't bother her sometimes. "They wouldn't even let me in the hospital at first. Mom finally got them to let me see him, just before he died." She remembered how pale he'd been, and all the tubes and machines. Cierra still couldn't stand the smell of hospitals. "Mom said that Dad's organs helped other people get better because he donated them. After they took that stuff out, they cremated him and we scattered his ashes in a park. You're not supposd to do that, but we did anyway. That's what he wanted."

"That must have been hard. When Uncle Remy was hurt,... I didn't know what to do. It was a little easier with Uncle Scott this time, but I still feel like there's nothing I can do. What did you do after?"

"We stayed with my Aunt in Boston, Ted's mom. His dad was my dad's brother. Mom doesn't really have any close family. I didn't want to talk about what happened for a while, but Mom helped and so did Aunt Laurel. I know it wasn't my fault, but it's still hard thinking about it. I miss him a lot. Sometimes I even have a hard time remembering what he looked like." Cierra paused for a moment. She grabbed a picture frame from her dresser. It held a photo of her and her parents. She showed it to Siku, who had noticed it earlier. "That's us before. Eventually Mom decided that we should go somewhere new. That, and she got a pretty decent job. So we moved here."

"I'm glad you did. Thanks for telling me Cierra." Siku reached over and gave her friend a hug.

"Siku." Cierra hugged her friend back. Letting go, she did her best to shake off the slightly depressed mood she'd been slipping into. "Jeez! Can't you see I'm trying to study? Distracting me like that! You must be jealous of my natural born- Hey! What are you laughing at?" Cierra's attempt at looking studious resulted in fits of giggles from Siku. This in turn, caused a chain reaction involving numerous flying pillows.

"Cierra! Siku! What on earth are you doing in there?"