Chapter 1- The School Project

Sometimes, I reminisce about the past. I try to remember my old life without this… this thing inside me. It's actually kind of funny. The things I used to worry about were insignificant to say the least. It all started with one project, the project that would change my life forever.

I woke up this morning with a grave feeling that I can't shake. There is something that is supposed to happen today, but I can't quite think of what it is. "OH NO! I forgot to do my assignment!" I shouted so loud that it seemed to echo throughout my house. "My dad is going to kill me!" I exclaimed in hushed tones after realizing that I might wake him up. I check outside my room for a storming rampage through the hallway. Luckily, I hear my father snoring like a beast. That man can sleep through a 9.0 on the Richter scale.

Coming back to the situation at hand, I start to panic. And then, suddenly, I doubt my own credibility. In a flurry of limbs, I rush to the computer to check if the assignment is actually due today. My hand is moving so fast with the mouse that I appear to be twitching. With a great sigh of relief, I open up my French teacher's website to discover that the assignment is postponed because she is adding a special twist to the project. With newfound confidence and relaxation, I get ready for school. After I run a mile around the neighborhood and lift some weights, I take a nice hot shower to clean the sweat off of my body. I stumble out of the shower with legs that barely work because they are so soar, and I get dressed grab my books and my car keys and jump into my used Pontiac Aztec that I got for my 16th birthday 2 months ago.

After a calming 10 minute drive through the streets of West Hills, I arrive at the beautiful campus of Anonymity High School. My parents have always felt an obligation to give me the best education possible, so they sent me to a private Catholic school. Although it sometimes bugs me having prayer before class, mass once a month, and a religion class, I love the teachers and my friends. I am not a Catholic, but my father is, and my mother is agnostic. I happen to be… an optimist. Sometimes, I feel like I don't fit in because most of the students are Christian and have a very strong moral fiber. I am always nice and courteous and nobody could ever suspect that I have another side, a darker side. I am the kind of person who pretends to be super nice and moral with great values and always respect people in everyway. But, I am a devil inside. After philosophizing in the parking lot for a while, I come back to reality because of the incessant honking. I quickly park and mouth an apology to the furious senior driving behind me. Grabbing my backpack and shutting the door in one swift spin move, I quickly walk up the hills towards the lockers.

I love this part of the morning. It's 7:30 am and I have 20 minutes until I have to get to class. This is the time when I hang out with my friends as they arrive to school. They are all such goofballs, but I am the King of the Goofballs.

"Hey Brian! What's up!" says Spencer.

"Nothing much," I reply.

"Dude, you're never gonna guess what happened to me last night!"

"What!" I say, anxiously awaiting his response.

"I was doing the Numa Numa dance, and, all of a sudden … BAM! A humungous bird flew in through my bedroom window and started beating the crap outta me with his wings. Damn pigeons. Do nothing for nobody."

"Dude," I say with a shocked look on my face. "You are a spaz." I say very abruptly.

"Oh yeah, well, I can do this," says Spencer, as he attempts to spin around on his head. Sadly, he fails miserably.

Spencer has been my best friend since the 7th grade. We have done everything together since then. We practically live at each other's houses. My parents treat him as their own son, and his parents treat me like their own son. We even have a freaky mind-link going. We always know exactly what the other one is thinking. It is a very useful tool for communication. Across an entire class, we can communicate just by looking at one another.

"Hey dudes, what's going on?" said Lexi.

She's the token Goth chick in our giant group of goofballs. We are the anti-clique group. We have the most random people in our group that band together because of our intelligence and entertaining weirdness. Lexi is the nicest most positive gothic, black-wearing, Jewish genius you ever did see. She loves to laugh, and enjoys when other people laugh as well.

Everyone continues their conversation for several minutes as people arrive. Laughing and goofy dancing are all abound the area. We're here, we're weird. GET USED TO IT! Next to arrive, Carolyn, the smoking hot bombshell. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She is 5'8'' with long legs that could go on for miles. Not only is she extremely nice, radiantly beautiful, and a great athlete, but she is also an incredible genius. She could get 103 on her AP math test without even reading the material. We are just friends though, and that's okay because I like….. "Whoa! Here she comes!"

A girl with beautiful eyes who looks moderately Asian with fair skin and is about 5'4'' seems to walk in slow motion towards the group through the hall. Her name is Michelle. Michelle is my goddess. It is not possible to love her any more than I already do. I've liked her for 3 years, and she is all I have thought about since then. I have no problem talking to girls, but I have trouble asking girls out on a date. Ever since I was outgoing with my first love and I got totally shut down, I have had a fear of asking girls I really like on a date. "I always make friends with the girls I like. Why oh why do I do that. It's so stupid." I said under my breath looking down at locker number 43. "Oh, hi Michelle. How are you?" I say calmly looking deep into her beautiful eyes.

"I'm fine Brian, but I'm kind of annoyed." she says with a smile. She's always smiling. I try to imagine that she is smiling because of me. It might be denial, but it keeps me going.

"Whatever works," I say thinking out loud.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, um, uh, yeah. What's wrong? Why are you annoyed?"

"Well, I worked so hard on that French project, and now, it's not even due. I feel like I wasted all that time and it was worth absolutely nothing."

"I'm sorry," I say sounding concerned, but I am still happy that it's not due because I would have failed. I bit my lip out because I felt bad. "Walk you to class?"

"Sure," she says carrying her books in the clichéd schoolgirl pose. Then, we walk to class together slightly ahead of the group. I am fighting every urge to hold her hand. While, I am trying to hold back my hand we abruptly come up to the door to French class. I hold the door open for her and several other classmates to be inconspicuous. Then, I enter the classroom and accidentally slam the door way too hard. Cringing, I walk over to my laughing friends.