Blue. Yellow. That's all I see. The walls are brick. They are brick, and yet somehow they hold the color of the sky. Did you know the sky is shy? Well it is, and it is hiding behind our hands. The yellow hands that represent the students in our school. Last year on the last day of school we redesigned our school. It went from black, the kind of black that is so deep in color you get lost in it, to blue. Light blue that makes you want to reach out for it and take a piece of the sky to put in your pocket. And this is exactly what people did. Except when they grabbed for the sky they left hand prints. Yellow hand prints that glared back at us, warning us to stay away.

Anyways that's the story that my art teacher tells us. Although I'm pretty sure he is the story himself. He has red hair that is all knotted up, and begs to be cut at least at the shoulder. His eyes are bright. Bright blue like our school's wall. Except his eyes hold a dash of purple that god must have squeezed out of his lilacs. And maybe the lilacs stared to drip and wither with age because somehow some purple managed to get under his eyes. Deep bags hang there. And then there is a light. A glowing white one that shines off his skin. He is defiantly the whitest man I have ever seen. He is even white for a ginger, and that's saying something. His nose is long and pointy. His lips are thin and cracked. And I think, I think he contains the sun because what he claims are freckles look like little specks of the sun's warmth. The same warmth that his tiny smile contains. The same warmth that reflects off his personality.

Whenever I see him I just think, why can't everyone be like Mr. Robinson? Why can't everyone be theirself? Why can't everyone's goal be to become a better person?

I sigh. Chealsea, being my best friend and having ears of a hawk, turns towards me and offers me a smile.

"Are you thinking about that wall again? Every single time we walk by it you sigh. I know you've explained to me a million times about your crush on Mr. Robinson"- eww?
and how you want everyone to be like him. But come on, life would be too deep if there was a million of him and too...red. Well I mean if everyone looked like him. Cus of his hair." Says Chealsea.

"Well first of all I am not crushing on him. He's like 50! And second of all I don't want everyone to be just like him, I just want everyone to be their complete and utter selves. Yah know?" I say to her while we head to the cafeteria.

"Yeah I guess..." She says in a voice that says, "No your wrong, but I'm going to agree with you just so you shut up."

Me and Chealsea are complete opposites. And when I say complete , I mean complete. While she likes to party and is obsessed with guys, I prefer hanging out or doing anything that doesn't involve guys. She loves attention, I absolutely hate it. Another thing we totally disagree on? Fang.

I'll admit he is hot. Hot like 100 degrees hot in the summer. Hot like the sun, hot like the inside of an exploding volcano. He has brown hair, but it might as well be black because it looks just like it. And oh my goodness he is tan. Even when it is winter and the sun seems to sleep every day, he is still tan. Not a gross orange color that girls like to wear, but a smooth olive color that looks so natural it's almost unbelievable. And his eyes, his eyes are stunning. They are brown, deep, deep brown like the melted chocolate in an advertised cookie. And maybe there is more to his eyes. Maybe there are gold specks thrown in there or green, but his eyelashes are so long that I cannot tell. His nose is of corse perfect, along with his body, but my favorite feature of his? His jawline. That's the part that absolutely kills me. How can such a jerk have such a perfect jawline? I want to draw it over and over again, but I don't think I could ever capture it's perfect shape. It just looks so strong and so stunningly perfect.

So, based on features I can totally understand why every girl likes him. But based on personality? I have no clue. He is a complete and utter disappointment when it comes to his personality. I wish I could put him in a hideous body with a hideous face and then see how many girls liked him.

I bet you know what I think of Fang. And if you don't, well, lets just say I'm not very fond of him. Chealsea? Now she's a whole different story. She's one of the many girls who could swim in his eyes and forget what he is actually saying. In other words, she is one of the many girls who would date him in a heart beat.

Fang has about twenty girls on his arm each day even though he has a new girlfriend about every week. You would think his girlfriends would break up with him for this. Do they? Nope. He ends it every single time. In fact, rumor has it that he just broke up with his last girlfriend, Bridget, yesterday. Which is probably not just a rumor, considering the fact that she is bawling her eyes out right now.

Confusion. This is what I am feeling. It is running through my body, pulsing through my brain to find an answer. Fang, the most popular guy in our school, is smiling at us. Not only is he smiling at us, but he is walking towards us. Us being me and Chealsea, who are not even remotely popular. I look behind us to see if one of his friends is behind us. Nope, unless one of his friends consists of a blank wall. So, I look back at Fang and stare at him. Am I dreaming?

Nope. That's the real Fang. I can tell by his jaw.