What began as a normal autumn day could never, in my life, prepare me for the havoc that was to ensue the next couple months. The very fact it all happened is still beyond me. Perhaps it was merely a freak thing? Maybe it was supposed to be a lesson learning experience? Whichever the case, it is something I will never forget.

Never.

I'm proud to say they were the best times of my life. I made so many friends, yet, at the same time, made so many enemies. I had so much fun too, all so fucked up, but great at the same time. And I learned to love someone special. I'll never forget him. He'll always be in my heart, even until the day I die. And I suppose I did learn something in the duration of my being there. Something that I should have known before; common knowledge. I'm glad I realize it now.

My only regret?

I should have never left.

I woke up to the banshee-like screaming of my alarm clock. I jolt awake and glare at the ticking contraption. The damn thing brings me closer to a mental breakdown with each passing day, or so, that's what I read on Tumbler. Apparently, being scared awake is bad for your health or something. Anyway, I quickly knocked the clock unconscious before untying myself from my cocoon of sheets. The fuzzy shell made it quite the effort to escape; effort I'd prefer to use - never, and the linen sheets were even worse.

Every little strand of the fabric seemed to tangle around my legs and waist. But finally, I emerge from my blanket prison. Unfortunately for me, I didn't emerge looking like a monarch butterfly. If anything, I most accurately resembled a rabid dog losing his shit. And the buckets of sweat poured over me at night didn't really help either.

Sleepy feet dragged me over to a paint-chipped vanity and I swiped a hairbrush from the desk. The bristles anticipate the moment they can dig their greed little teeth into my cranium and rip out whatever's left of my curls and I am apathetic towards the ordeal. I'm used to it by now. The brush snarls as it ravishes my hair. Grooming these muddled light red locks is as effective (and a painful) as baptizing a cat, but I try anyway.

I can at least hope my hair can look presentable today. Of course, that wish is far from granted. Instead, I think I made it worse. I tuck the frizzy mess beneath my friend's Chilote cap with a huff. Perhaps my hair will calm down after a timeout. I proceed to peel off my pajamas in favor of a Wounded Warriors T-shirt and jeans. I quickly inspect myself in the mirror before ushering myself downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning, Drew," My mom says from the kitchen table, a newspaper sleeping in her hands.

"Mornin'" I smiled, digging through the fridge for two pieces of bread.

"How did you sleep?"

"Good."

I placed the bread in the toaster oven and patiently waited for my crunchy breakfast. Silence reigns supreme within the small confines of the kitchen. Dull, gray morning light seeps into the room through the curtains and stains the walls and small appliances. Mom takes a sip of her dark coffee and reads the headlines. I lookout for the sun.

A hand of rays rises over the horizon and slowly crawls into the sky. The birds are awake now, a sweet ensemble of chirping and twittering replacing the silence. It's peaceful. I wonder what the day will bring? It seems to have so much potential now. The day is young and the possibilities endless. It's like a new mother holding her sweet newborn for the first time. The innocence and happiness of a virgin day-

POP!

I jump in surprise, shattering my daydreaming. The toaster oven impatiently offers me my browned bread and I hesitantly accept it. I place the two slices on a paper plate and take my seat at the table. Mom flashes me an amused look.

"What?"

"Nothing," she smiles. "...wimp."

"Don't make fun of me!" I whine playfully.

She laughs.

The school hallways feel like a tropical rainforest. The multitude of kids are so overgrown you could literally drown in them. All these hormonal teenage bodies make me hot and sweaty because personal space has gone to the dogs. And the people here are like frigging disease-spreading insects with their rumors and gossip. Add in the undiscovered species and cut down trees and you got yourself the perfect drama. I shoved through this tangled jungle of teens threatening to imprison me on all sides, stepping on multiple feet in the process. I think some kid just got trampled...

I reach my locker and input my combination, only to find it won't open. I growl under my breach and jiggle the lock. Nothing. Try again. Still no result. I bang on the metal door in frustration. The locker beside me pops open.

"Damn thing!" I snarl. "School needs to replace these shit lockers."

I struggle with the lock until the third period bell rings, to which my heart sinks. Mr. Hilary is the strictest English teacher in the school. And he hates me. If I were to come to his class, late and unprepared, he'd kill me for sure. But either way, I'm dead meat. Hell, even when I'm a perfectly golden student, the b*** can find something wrong with me. I curse the world for being so cruel.

"Hey, need some help?"

I swivel my head around to face the source of the voice.

Wow.

Maybe the world isn't as cruel as I thought it was.

I've seen him before, among the crowd. He doesn't see me though, but I'll be damned if I never noticed him. Everyone has. He's a senior, mostly hangs out with the predatory jock group (mostly because he's the captain of the soccer team), and a killer with the ladies. He has a reputation for getting down and dirty with every girl he dates... Which was pretty much every girl. And sweet Jesus, he is sexy!

Everything a girl could dream for and more. Right from the gorgeous tan to those mellow eyes of his. He's even got that smooth, but shy voice down-pat! I'm shell-shocked that Ashton Goodwin, the God of all Hotties, is speaking to me. I feel like I should bow before his royal highness, but I don't want to look like a nerd in front of him. So I answer his question instead.

"Locker... open... won't." I stumble over my words as I'm hypnotized by the dark abyss of his eyes.

He chuckles, the sound like liquid silver bells to my ears.

"Move aside, Yoda. I'll use the force to open this." A Star Wars reference? I'm not sure if I should feel ashamed I got the joke or be shocked that he enjoys the same movie I do. I move to the side to give him room to work his magic.

I sputter out nervously, "T-Thanks, Ashton..."

"No problem, what's your combination?"

"5-37-15."

He follows my directions and the locker pops open flawlessly. Ashton flips his dark hair out of his face and flashes me a pearly-toothed smile.

"Wasn't that hard."

I bite my tongue at his sarcastic remark. I don't want to piss him off now. My silence causes him to chuckle.

"You're acting like a scared little girl lost in a store. Use your words!"

I crack a smile.

"Words are my specialty." Did my voice really sound that smooth and calm?

"I doubt it. You've been as quiet as a goldfish this entire time!"

"And you've been as loud as a lion!"

He leaned forward.

"Oh really?"

I leaned forward as well.

"Yes, really!" I growled.

Suddenly, he scrunched up his nose and backed away. A look of disgust adorned his face, as if a cow had just taken a s*** right on top of him. What the hell? I fixed him a confused stare.

"Did you brush your teeth today?" He gagged.

Oh.

Fuck.

How did I frigging forget to brush my teeth? It's such a simple task! How can I be so stupid? This is just so embarrassing and I can't believe what I've done and now he'll never like me at allandI'veruinedmyentiresociallifehowcouldthishappentome-?!

"Get to class!" Mrs. Ferguson yells from her classroom.

Gladly.

That was not my chapter, therefore not my A.N. c: