I glanced down at my timetable and back up at the door numbers that hung above the frame. 120, 121, 124 -So where's room 123 supposed to be? I let out a defeated sigh as I glanced around at the deserted halls. The class bell shrilled, declaring me late for class.

"Hi, this is your first day, right?" I turned to the voice to find a tall, tan boy with freckles dusted over his face. He wore a fitted white button-up over a pair of black jeans, his black hair combed neatly into place. He gave me this smile. It was a great smile. The kind of smile that makes everyone around it smile -Including me. "I'm Marco Bodt, and you look lost."

"Yeah you could say that," I mumbled, throwing a hand through my ash brown hair nervously before handing him my schedule, "Do you know where I would find room 123? S'pposed to be in English right now."

"Room 123 is a break room for the teachers," He explained as he crossed out '123' and replaced it with '213', "English was moved to 213 last month."

"Oh, uh, thanks. I'm Jean by the way." I said, stumbling over my words "Uh, Jean Kirstein."

"Nice to meet you," He said with a smile as he handed my schedule back "You've been a popular topic with the graduating class, heard you raised a lot of hell here in tenth grade."

"Yeah I was a shit head," I shrugged, shoving my free hand into my jean's pocket and watching the white floor pass under me as we walked "Just wana get school done now, y'know?"

"Yeah everyone is pretty angsty about getting out," he said with a sigh, dragging his hand against the dull brick wall "I wouldn't mind staying for a while longer, but that's just me."

"I'll be honest, I've never heard of anyone wanting to actually stay in highschool." I said with a laugh, glancing up to see him smiling back at me.

We approached room 213 and walked in together, mumbling a 'sorry' when the teacher pointed out we were late. Apparently he was in my English class too.

The bell rang for lunch, and I had no idea where I was going to sit. I contemplated having a smoke, feeling that familiar itch climbing up the back of my throat. I had quit a month or two ago, but I hadn't kicked the cravings. I grabbed my half-empty pack from my sweater pocket and took a stick out. I regret keeping the package around 'just in case'.

"Hey Jean!" A familiar voice called from a table across the cafeteria, beckoning me over.

I slid the smoke back into it's package, and the package back into my pocket. It turned out to me Marco, who was sitting with another girl and some bald guy.
'Oh what the he'll' I thought, deciding to head over and sit with them.

"This is Connie," Marco explained pointing to the bald boy, then to the girl happily eating a large slice of pizza "and this is Sasha."

"Nice to meet you guys, I'm Jean," I said as I sat down next to Marco, Sasha and Connie sitting across from us.

"Lets see your schedule," Connie demanded excitedly, reaching to snatch it from where it sat atop my books, "We've got Math together with Sasha, then Native Studies with Sasha and Marco."

Sasha got ahold of my schedule next, pointing out that we had Science together last class before handing my schedule to Marco.

"You're taking AP English?" He questioned, looking slightly suprised "So am I, not many people get into that class. We've got French together too."

"I'm good with words I guess," I shrugged, "Or at least on paper I am."

"I think you'll like it, has us write a alot, considering it's English class."

"Nerds!" Connie yelled, throwing a piece of his crust to hit Marco in the forehead -which Sasha greedily snatched as soon as it hit the table.

My lunch went on like this right up until the bell rang, causing us all to part to our separate classes.

I unlocked my apartment door, slinking down the short hall that lead to the living room and dropping my things on the couch before heading to my room. Upon entering, I grabbed my black binder from its hiding place under my dresser, along with a pencil and eraser. I sat cross-legged with my red covers pulled around me and my drawing binder sat on my lap. I hadn't even looked at this thing since tenth grade, much less opened it. But I was determined today. I was going to kick artist's block in the ass and restore my love for pencil and paper.

My phone buzzed beside me with a Facebook notification- 'Friend request from Marco Bodt'

I chuckled to myself before picking up my Samsung to accept. I opened up messenger before grabbing a package of cookies from my nightstand and settling under the covers with my drawing binder pushed aside.

Jean Kirstein: 'hey freckles'

Marco Bodt: 'Hey Trouble'
'Wait'
'Not like that'
'Oh god'

Jean Kirstein: 'lmao i know you didnt mean it like that its okay'

Marco Bodt: ' Okay good haha, so what'cha up to?'

Jean Kirstein: 'munchin out in bed hbu'

Marco Bodt: 'Working on English essay, I'll trade you'

Jean Kirstein: 'no can do my bed needs me'

Marco and I talked for almost two hours about anything and everything before he had to leave for his sister's baseball game. I finally picked up my pencil twenty minutes later, sketching what I remember from Marco's face, which was surprisingly a lot.

~~~
A/N:

Sorry if this chapter was a little dull, kind of hard to get the ball rolling in the first chapter.
Anyways, please comment or vote or something idk, but they really do inspire me to keep writing! This is actually my 3rd or 4th book I've tried writing, but all the others failed due to me being a bum hahaha. I'm totally open to critiques if you'd be open to giving me one! Thanks to all 3