Yup, another story. Doesn't mean I'm done with my other one. Anyway, Calvin and Hobbes is owned by Bill Watterson. Not me, yo.

It all started when she came back to town. She had left because her dad and her mom split up. She was seven and she lived with her dad in another state, while I sat here... just another boring day after day. Her mom didn't remarry, didn't have anymore kids, it was just me in my secluded home, my mom, my dad, and my stuffed tiger.

Hobbes... I still have Hobbes. Maybe he's not as important to me as he used to be, but I still have him. Many other teenagers would've just shipped their stuffed animals away to the Goodwill or maybe given it to their young relatives. Not me. Sure, Uncle Max moved around here, but he didn't have any little cousins. I don't know all of my relatives, but I believe that I'm an only child. Not just with my parents, but with my entire family. I'm supposed to carry on the family name.

That doesn't mean I'm ready to just leave the house and start impregnating girls all willy nilly. Sure, girls don't seem to have cooties to me anymore, but unlike many of these other 15 and 16 year old parents, I actually care about the responsibility of being a parent. Maybe it's because I don't want to make the same mistake my parents made. I'm sure they made some kind of mistake, although it's not clear to me right now. I think it turned out that my dad was just too busy for me and my mom's main job was to stay around here and make sure that I didn't blow up the entire house or something. I look back at being a kid and regret a lot of it. At least I got outside a lot.

--

Anyway, I'm getting off track. My name is Calvin. I'm 15 years old. I'm one of the busier teenagers in my school. I play baseball, I'm in a garage band with a bunch of other guys from school (I write the songs and I play drums), and I'm kind of a cartoonist. Yeah, as a kid I always used to imagine things around me was like a film noir or a Sci-Fi movie and stuff like that. When I was eight, I wrote down stories featuring these characters I made up in my mind; Spaceman Spiff, Tracer Bullet, and Stupendous Man. It was the most creative thing I could do, since I was kinda told by the police that I wasn't allowed to make snow sculptures anymore.

When I was in 8th grade, I started doodling this guy wearing a derby hat, a trench coat, with a gun, and smoking a cigarette. I looked at it, and I figured that I was really good at drawing. I started selling comics at 30 cents a pop (while I remembered that if I had been doing this when I was six, I would try to put up a stand and sell them for a dollar), and I made a killing. I think I found my calling.

--

So, at the beginning, I said that it all started when she came back. Well, it did.

"Matthew Graves?"

"Here."

"Michael West?"

"Right here."

"Calvin--?"(I don't know you well enough to tell you what my last name is. I don't want you to come looking for me or anything.)

"Right here, Mr. Douglas." I said, not paying that much attention while I wrote what I was going to do this week in my planner. Let's see, I have practice this Tuesday, the band is practicing on Wednesday, there's a game on Thursday...

"Susie Derkins?"

"Here." And there she was, raising her hand. The name didn't register right away with me, I dug around in the back of my mind to remember why that name sounded so familiar...

"Oh yes, yes. You don't really have a place to sit yet do you, Ms. Derkins?"

"No, sir. I just moved here yesterday." Was that a hint? I couldn't tell. Who did I know... Derkins... moved away a long time ago...

"Well, you can take a seat next to... uh... how about Calvin?" She started to walk towards the seat next to me. This would be perfect. Her face didn't really look familiar. She had her hair in a ponytail, as opposed to the medium-sized hair that she used to have. She was wearing what seemed to be a soccer jersey or something. It wasn't a football one or a baseball one or anything. Later I'd find out it was a Lacrosse jersey. After all these years...

"Psst. Hey, Calvin." whispered Michael West, handing me a note. Wasn't the first note I've ever gotten. Normally I get them to remind me that the band's getting together. Mike's the guitarist and the lead singer, meaning he's basically the leader of the group. I opened the note, hoping that band practice wasn't moved to today.

The note said in Mike's scrawled red-inked handwriting, "That Susie chick is kinda cute, don't you agree?" Just because, I took another look at her. Her face kinda DID remind me of someone, and she was kind of cute... but I couldn't really say anything. Truth is, I already had a girlfriend. Well yeah, had. That's a story that's coming up soon.

I wrote back, "So-so," knowing very well that he'd be quick to tell Crystal that I thought another girl was cute. About thirty seconds later, I got another note. This one did come from Mike, but it wasn't his handwriting. As a matter of fact... it was mine.

"Hey Susie,

Roses are Red,

A deep crimson hue,

when you got in trouble,

you sure were too!

Ha! Ha!

Calvin"

This one just confused me. I don't remember this girl, and all of a sudden, Mike's passing me notes that I seemed to have written a long time ago. So I just wrote down, "Uh... okay. I don't get it." I passed it back to Mike... who simply passed it back to Susie, who suppressed a chuckle.

--

After Study Hall, it was time to go home. Mondays and Fridays are the only days where I can go home after school and not have to do anything for the rest of the day, save for homework.

"Hey Calvin."

I turned around, and there she was. She was right there behind me. If Crystal were to see me right there talking to this girl...

"Um..." I barely stuttered out, "Hello."

"You going home?"

"Actually, I have to get home and feed the cat." Not a lie, not exactly a truth either.

"Well, you wanna walk home together?"

"Uh..." What a position I found myself in all of a sudden. This girl, seemingly from my childhood, handing me notes that I don't remember writing, asking if she can walk home with me. Since Crystal had to get on a bus, I guess it was okay. "Sure, I suppose," I shrugged.

--

So, we walked. We really didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Apparently, she didn't either. Until she broke the silence.

"How's Hobbes?" That took me by surprise.

"Okay, that's it. I ignored this long enough. Now who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"You don't have to yell, Calvin. Well, at least you don't need to now. I figured you didn't know how to do anything else but yell anyway."

I sighed. I didn't say anything after that, and neither did she. Suddenly, she simply said, "This is it." and I paused and looked at the house. It was a two-story house... completely white. The mailbox was normal, said Derkins, still didn't give me a clue about who this was. "It's okay, Calvin. You'll remember me eventually... better get home and feed Hobb-- I mean, your cat." Winking, she departed into the house.

And I ran.