Dear Annabelle,

There's someone I like, but I'm not sure how to tell them how I feel. Honestly, I doubt they even know I exist… Should I even try? How do I make an impression? Thanks.

-Horrible At First Impressions

Dear First Impressions,

In my opinion, there is nothing better than the classics. You might want to give them some chocolates, or some nice flowers, but really, the most important thing is to tell them how you feel! Good luck!

-Annebelle

Matthew cringed as he slammed into the locker next to him, for the third time today, as another person pushed him aside on the way to his locker. Thank God this day is over… Nothing seemed to be going right.

I've never seen so many people actually reading the school newspaper… It seemed like everyone was holding a copy as he walked down the hall. It wasn't a surprise, really; ever since they started "Ask Annabelle," a love advice column, everyone had been talking about it. Matthew wouldn't admit it, but he was interested as well- evident by the copy of the paper tucked away in his notebook.

Quick fingers worked the lock on locker 396, but it still took three tries for this cursed locker to finally open. As he reached for his backpack, something caught his eye.

A single, pink tulip fluttered to the ground, and Matthew stooped to pick it up, a smile playing on his lips. He quickly looked around before slipping the flower in with his belongings. This had been happening for two weeks, and had been getting more and more frequent with each day.

For a moment, every bad thing that had happened that day, like the teacher not bothering to answer his question because he didn't notice his hand raised; or being marked absent when he was really right there. Sure, he was used to these things, but it still got to him. It was nice to think that maybe, somewhere, someone really saw him.

Of course, Matthew thought as he shut his locker. It could be that they got the locker wrong… But wouldn't someone have noticed by now? Still, once the thought was there, it couldn't be shut out. After all, no one was coming up and telling them they loved him or anything…

Matthew glanced at the clock. "Maple!" He exclaimed, as he realized how late he was. If he didn't beat his brother Alfred to his car, he'd drive off without him. With a sigh, he realized he'd have to use the back exit if there was any chance of him getting there on time.

The back of the school, Matthew shuddered at the sight, as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. Trash was scattered all around, flittering on the breeze. The whole place reeked of rotten food and cigarette smoke, but Matthew knew that was the least of his worries. The people that hung out back here, they were the ones to worry about.

As if on cue, a pack of them appeared- a trio in matching sagging pants, baseball caps tilted to one side, and matching obnoxious laughs. "Hey, kid!" One of them called.

Of course they'd be the only ones to see me today… Matthew continued walking and prayed he'd get away.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" One of them grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, and they laughed at Matthew's wide eyes.

"Wha-what do you want?" Matthew cussed at himself for stuttering, but he couldn't help it. Besides, he was so obviously terrified, it wouldn't have mattered.

"You got any money?" One of them asked after a minute, like they hadn't had any intention to hurt him other than just to scare him.

"N-no," He insisted.

"How about Twinkies?" One of them mused. "Man, I have a wicked case of the munchies."

Another nodded in agreement. "Or Ding Dongs."

"Or Swiss Rolls."

Matthew dug through his bag and brought out a granola bar he'd been saving from lunch, his favorite kind, and held it out with a shaky hand. The other grabbed it, and tried to rip it open with grubby fingers when suddenly a booming voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Give it back."

Matthew could see him standing there, blonde hair standing almost straight up on end, green eyes glittering in the sunlight, and a scar over his right eyebrow. His face was twisted into a scowl as he ordered again. "Give it back, and let him go." His voice bounced off the wall, making him seem even more threatening than he actually was.

"Fine, man, whatever," The three pushed Matthew to the ground, and chucked the granola bar at his chest. "Way to be a party pooper, Morgens," One muttered as they found their seats back against the wall.

As he quickly gathered his things, Matthew could hear the footsteps of the man as he came closer and closer to him. When Matthew turned, he was right there, holding out a certain pink tulip. "You… Dropped this," was all he said, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking in the opposite direction.

Matthew scrambled to his feet and ran to the parking lot, barely making it to Alfred's truck to swing into the passenger seat as he started the engine.

"Oh, hey dude!" He said cheerily. "I forgot you needed a ride today."

"I always need a ride, Alfred," Matthew muttered as they pulled out of the parking lot, and the car became silent save for Alfred's booming country music that made Matthew want to bash his head in.

All Matthew did on the way home was stare at that pink flower, and once again wonder who had gotten it for him. Of course, in the back of his mind, he silently thanked the guy- Morgens, he believed his name was- who'd gotten the precious tulip back to him.

Little did he know that it was Morgens himself who had put the flower in Matthew's locker in the first place.

Author's Note: In case anyone's wondering, my friend and I have a name for those three idiots harassing poor Matthew; We call them the Douchebag Trio. It fits, doesn't it? I have a feeling this isn't the last time you'll be hearing from them…