[b][i][u]Around One Year Ago[/u][/i][/b]
[b][i][u]The Wilson Ranch[/u][/i][/b]
[i][b][u]Australia[/u][/b][/i]

Ian straddled 'Dollar' his prized horse into the stable as he fanned himself with his hat. He dismounted and closed the gate behind him as he exited the stable and headed towards the large wooden house that drifted to the right ever so slightly with the wind. The house was built by, Ian's great grandfather in the early 20th century. Of course, the price of owning, let alone building a 2 story house back then was much less than what it was today. And the mere fact that it had stood this long was a testament to the old guys skill as a craftsman. 

He entered the house, wiping the sweat from his brow and moving into the kitchen, stopping slowly in the door way as he met his parent's gaze from their chairs behind the dining table. 
"Take a seat, Ian" Spoke his mother, in a surprisingly calm voice for such a highly strung woman. This was what really got Ian's suspicions aroused. The only time he'd heard his mother speak in a tone even close to calm was during Christmas, and even then she was flustered over getting Christmas dinner ready. He sat opposite his parents, setting his hat down on the table.
[color=DarkTurquoise]"What's happened?"[/color] He asked, expecting the worst.
"Nothings happened, son it's just we have some" His father glanced at his wife, a twinge of confusion spreading across his brow. "News..." There was an awkward silence as Ian's mother regained her composure and began explaining things.
"I've been offered a job in America, Ian and I'm taking it" She said in her regular stern voice, a stark contrast to the false calm one she had put on previously.
[color=DarkTurquoise]"You're leaving?!"[/color] He practically shouted, almost jumping from his chair in shock. Another look between his parents told him there was much more going on than he was lead to believe.
"Well, that's not all I'm afraid, son" spoke his father. "You're going with your mother to America, to get a proper education." His voice was as serious as he could make it, but any detective worth his coin could hear the sadness in his tone.
[color=DarkTurquoise]"What?!"[/color] Yelled Ian, shooting up like a bullet and almost knocking his chair over. [color=DarkTurquoise]"What about Dollar? What about my mates? What about the ranch?!"[/color] His questions flew out like a machine gun, one after another never being answered until he finally stopped.
"I'll be taking care of Dollar and the ranch, Ian, I've already hired a new stable hand to help with the workload. And you'll just have to make new friends" Ian clenched his fist in a mixture of rage, shock and fear.

[b][i][u]10 Am[/u][/i][/b]
[b][i][u]Camp Turtle Shell[/u][/i][/b]

Ian brushed his long blond hair out of his eye as he hopped off the bus, spreading a tiny shock-wave of dust outwards as he landed on the beaten path. He carried a sports bag over his shoulder with everything he needed. He patted his pocket, checking the packet of cigarettes was still secure. He had no clue how he'd survive this place without his cigarettes. School was one thing, but a camp with an overtly joyous and bubbly councillor was another. She also seemed to be a few years older than Ian himself as well, a small smile crept over his lips at the thought of himself doing the same job in just a few years. 

'Kickball' sounded alright. Ian was a bit confused as to what it was though as he thought Americans called Football soccer. He wondered if it was a different sport altogether. Nevertheless, he found his cabin number and headed there, being sure to check out any secluded areas on his way there. The camp didn't even allow mobile phones, he highly doubted they'd be alright with smoking. He opened the cabin door to see his new cabin mate. He hesitated a second, swinging his band from his shoulder and onto the nearest bed before speaking.
[color=DarkTurquoise]"Here, you don't know what kickball is do you?"[/color] He said, small talk was never one of his strong points. He unzipped his bag and began unpacking as he went on.
[color=DarkTurquoise]"Is it just football or is it like what rounders is to baseball?"[/color] He quickly grabbed the anti depressants from his bag and shoved them into his bedside cabinet, hoping that his new cabin mate hadn't seen them. As much as he bigged himself up to be someone who didn't care about appearances, he did, in fact, care about if people saw his 'medication'. He stayed in the crouched position he had taken to open the bedside cabinet and emptied a few of the pills out into his hand before pouring them out into the empty space within the cigarette packet in his pocket before returning to his regular stance.