Chapter 1
[Chris Powell x MC (Calliope Spears)]
Summary: Calliope Spears is invisible like a ghost within the halls of her own school, since she suffers from crippling anxiety and depression. To make matters worse, she finds herself falling for the popular boy with a golden heart and football captain Chris Powell. To cope with her feelings, she started writing anonymous poetry directed to him. Chris discovers one of the poems and becomes infatuated with his poetry-writing admirer and seeks to find them, but they might not want to be found.
Lunchtime was particularly hard for Calliope since there were limited places she could eat in solitude and hiding in a bathroom stall stopped being a desirable option after the first few weeks. Pulling her hood over her face, she made a run for the library with her brown paper bag lunch clutched tightly in her grip. The hallways were abandoned as most people opted to eat in the cafeteria or on the front lawn in droves, so Calliope had limited chances of running into anyone. The library was her favorite place to go since the librarian, a young man named James, allowed her to eat in a private section of the library with limited disturbances. Thinking about it, James was probably the only person close enough to her that could be considered a friend; it was the depressing reality that she had no one.
Entering the library was a welcome shift from the linoleum floors and florescent lights of the hallway. James smiled and waved at her, so she waved back shyly and ambled over to the fantasy/science fiction section. James shook his head and watched Calliope walk away with a twinge of sadness. Almost every day she came to the library by herself; some days with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He occasionally would approach her, and she would occasionally open up a little. Heading back to fixing books, James glanced over at the fantasy/ sci-fi section one last time. He would check up on her later.
Inside the sanctuary of her bookshelf walls, Calliope silently munched on the simple sandwich she packed the night before and traced her finger lovingly down the pages of her journal. It was an old, leather-bound one with cream colored pages. On each page was a collection of poetry in ebony ink and delicate handwriting, created by her own hands. Scanning over the words, her throat hitched upon seeing a lonely line written on a mostly blank page. She riffled through her bag in desperation for a pen and felt the words ready to burst forward. Finally finding a pen, she opened the floodgates and her hands moved with a sense of purpose. Lines of script gradually filled the page's empty space and with every brush of the pen's tip against the paper made her chest feel a little fuller, a little less hollow.
My dear Chris Powell, you inspire me to write,
How I love your smile, voice, and eyes,
Invading my mind through the day and night,
Always reminding me of sunny, cloudless skies,
Your heart is laden with gold,
Your eyes are full of dreams,
A dazzling smile so bold,
Much too good for me, it seems,
You are a fairytale prince come to life,
A man of legend and fantasy,
But this is only real-life,
And 'us' would never be a reality
Anyways, this is my way of saying you're a fine fella,
Sincerely Yours, Cinderella
Calliope admired the work that flowed from her mind like the calming gush of a cascading waterfall. Her sonnets were her best work out of all her exploration into poetry. She wasn't usually one for poems of love with their flowery language and gushy sentiments, but she would make an exception. Her cheeks flushed when overlooking the name, she wrote with such care, embarrassed that she was that girl who was foolish enough to fall for the most popular guy in her school when she knew she would never have a chance. Chris Powell, popular guy with a heart of gold and the Football Captain of Hartfield High, would never give her the time of day. She was practically a ghost in the hallways of her school and was sure that no one, save for James, even realized she existed or knew her name. If she one day disappeared, no one would notice or care.
The name 'Cinderella' was an allude to that, a fitting pseudonym for the girl who would remain a mystery. There would be no glass slippers outing her or happy endings worthy of every little girl's fairytale because Calliope was not that girl; she wasn't picture perfect nor would she ever be. She slipped the pen away and read over some of her other poems, in between bites of her lunch. The crinkle of the paper bag was relaxing, and she indulged in the silence since it was hard to find during class. She shared a small smile with James when he entered the section with his trolley of books to return to their homes. James noticed her thumbing through the pages of the journal in wistful admiration.
"What do you have there, Calliope?" He gestured to the journal, which Calliope clutched to her chest with a soft blush staining her porcelain cheeks in a pink glow. She glanced down.
"My poetry journal; it mostly has sonnets and some haikus among other free verse poems." She replied, her voice soft-spoken and delicate, similar to her handwriting.
"Ah, I do love a good sonnet. How are you feeling today?" James inquired, and he observed Calliope bristling anxiously from his question.
"I'm okay…" Calliope admitted, after a blip of silence between her and James.
"Sometimes, okay is better than nothing." James advised sagely before ducking out of the section. He knew when to push his limits with Calliope and thought that leaving her with a little something he wished he knew when he felt down as a teen. Calliope contemplated his sentiments with great deliberation. She thought about getting up and thanking him, but the bell signaling the end of lunch rang out and summoned her back into the real world. Jarred from her thoughts, she yelped and accidentally ripped out the sonnet she had written about Chris from the journal. Her hazel eyes widened, and she scrambled to tuck it into the journal. Having loose papers of that nature wasn't ideal, but she had to deal with it for now.
"Goodbye James!" She remarked quietly, heading into the hallway. James, shocked, didn't reply until she already headed into the clamor of the crowded hallways. Hiding behind a messy mass of auburn tresses, she ducked through the hallways. As to not attract any attention, she quietly suffered through being jostled around by bodies and clutched her journal close to her body. However, she failed to notice the loose paper slip from the limited safety of her tight press on her journal and it fluttered to the floor. Several students trampled over it before one leaned down and picked it up. Wearing a football varsity jacket, the young man examined the piece of paper with piercing blue eyes.
"What's this?" He wondered, scanning the top line that caught his eye. His name leapt out at him and he ventured to read a few more lines when he heard his name.
"Chris, what's that?" One of his teammates, Logan, approached with the former captain Darren hobbling next to him on crutches. Quickly, Chris pocketed the poem into his jacket and nonchalantly shrugged.
"Oh, nothing. We should head to practice." He clapped Logan on the shoulder. Darren hummed in agreement and nudged Logan with his shoulder. Logan grinned and waved at Chris
"Yeah, we'll see you there." Logan and Darren headed off to the locker room and the last of the stragglers dispersed from the hallway, leaving Chris alone. Checking if the coast was clear, Chris fished the poem out of his pocket and read it with a ginger touch. The handwriting was breath-taking, but the contents of the poem left him breathless. It was a full confession, but the writer left their name off the paper. Instead, at the bottom was a simple 'Sincerely Yours, Cinderella'. Chris hummed in thought, the unexpected nature of the note caught him off-guard. Nevertheless, he was flattered. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and his cheeks reddened.
"Sincerely, Cinderella? Does that make me Prince Charming?" He grinned, pocketing the note back into his jacket. He hoped that there was a face out there to match to the words. Christopher Powell swore to himself that he would find the mysterious writer, if he searched the whole school and asked every person. Maybe his friends would help him crack the mystery of his Cinderella.