Sonny's Point of View

He's dead. I really cannot believe that he is dead. We weren't close friends or anything, but across the halls of Glendale High, and at the other end of the each room of each High School party I have gone to, I always thought that he was the one.

Oh wait, that's right. You read right, people. The Chad Dylan Cooper is dead.

Everyone in school was talking about it. I didn't like the fact that people in school talked about it; like they didn't have respect for the dead!

Autopsy said that he committed suicide. I don't understand at all, why people even consider taking away your own life. I mean SERIOUSLY CHAD? Were there that much problems to deal with? Selfish.

I just wanted to get this day over with; clearly because I couldn't stand hearing about my Mr. Right taking his own life away from the world. From school. From me.

He wasn't a weirdo, though. Nothing like that actually; he was the smart, quiet guy who would ace exams but never listened to teachers. Sometimes he would either read a book or put on his wireless can't-be-seen-by-anyone headphones and listen to All Time Low.

I know because I sat beside him in History, Advanced Algebra and Biology. Sometimes, I would borrow his headphones and jam to The Beach or Remembering Sunday as Ms. Lowry talked about the Greek Wars.

Can I just say that she is the worst teacher ever? Even though I seriously try to listen, she just explains to fast. Speaking of fast, Algebra's almost over.

I looked over at Chad's seat, thinking what would happen if he was still here? Would it be any ordinary day? And would I finally have the guts to go ask him out?

I think among the whole high school population, I am the only one (I mean it) who truly misses him. I don't even think his friends notice he's gone. Well being part of a posse with 12 guys is pretty hard.

Chad Dylan Cooper committed suicide? God, what a freak. I could hear the people talking about him. Don't you find it annoying?

School is over, finally. I can walk home and think over things. Think about Chad.

I met up with my best friend, Tawni Hart. She wasn't one of those popular bitches, not like Portlyn; but she's way beautiful and most of the guys come after her.

"Sonny, did you hear about Chad?" She looked in her bag and got her keys as we walked outside to the parking lot.

"Indeed I did, Tawn." I frown as I say that sentence, she knew I liked him. She held my chin and held it up.

"Sweetie.. Don't be upset. It was his choice to end his life. Well, it's his loss that he didn't get to know you. And well, your loss that he's gone."

She giggled at that. HOW IN THE HELL CAN SHE GIGGLE? I mean I love the girl, it's just she knows I'm sensitive when it comes to Chad.

"I'm sorry, Sonny. I didn't mean to-" I cut her off. "It's okay, Tawni. I know you didn't."

I took the passenger seat of Tawni's Mini Cooper (I know, awesome car, right?) and asked if she can take a longer route home. I just wanted to think about anything. About everything.

Chad, Chad, Chad. For now, that's all on my mind. I really want to know why he committed suicide. IF ONLY I COULD HAVE TOLD HIM SOONER.

I know we didn't share anything special; he wasn't my boyfriend nor my best friend. But, but. There's just something about him.

Not just the looks. I mean, yeah those sparkling blue eyes and cute smile, and blonde hair. Just, wow. I mean sure, there were cuter guys, like Joe Fletcher. Hot guy, but not my type.

"Tawni, why don't you ever settle for a guy?" I was curious. She had the looks, personality. She was way better than the populars. I don't know why High School is even like that. Those who are popular should have good conduct and not just those pretty faces.

As for me, I think I may be a nerd. I'm one of those quiet girls that read Percy Jackson, while listening to The Maine, or You and Me At Six, or All Time Low, or McFly. Okay, back on context.

"I don't know, I guess I have to find Mr. Right first." There was a long pause, and silence came in. "Not just those jocks with hot bods and bad-ass arms." At least she can choose. Because of her looks so much guys are after her, she doesn't have to do anything. They just come to her.

I'm not saying I want to be Tawni. Because I had my Mr. Right picked up already.

Urgh, Chad. Why did you have to die? I know I should've made my move a little sooner but couldn't you wait? I mean, yeah nothing special about me. But- GOD.

"You're awfully quiet, Son. Are you thinking about him?" Yes.

"No."

"Are you sure?" No, I miss him.

"Yeah, 'course."

I got home, in our apartment just about 4 blocks from school. I saw my mom cooking, probably one of those things she learns of Food Network.

"Wow, mom, looks delish." I put my bag down on the couch and brought out my Biology notebook, and started reading my notes, 'cause there's a quiz.

"Oh, sweetie there's mail for you." I saw where she pointed and I was, I think a stack of letters. I counted the envelopes, one by one. All in all it made 21.

21 letters? From who? Was this some kind of prank that those rich kids pull on me lost of the time? Mostly the Portlyn Murray would pull a prank on me.

"Mom, I'll be up in my room okay?" she nodded and I start walking up the stairs. As I enter the room, a cold wind met me when I opened my door. I felt goose bumps; Chad? Is that you?

Okay Chad, this isn't funny. I'm talking to myself, well at least I'm whispering. I don't know if it's really you, but I'm about to find out.

The thing is Chad, I'm really not sure if you're dead or not. I guess I'll have to find out myself; or I can ask Tawni to help me out. Oh dear, this is just like bad episode of Mackenzie Falls, where Sterling Knight plays Mackenzie.

I hated that show. But Sterling reminded me so much of Chad; which made it my favorite show.

I opened the envelope that said 1, which meant that was the first one I had to read. No, no. I didn't want to. But I felt the urge that it was speaking to me like COME ON ALLISON OPEN ME OPEN ME!

Why do I even have these? There was no return address, meaning this was a prank.

Dear Readers…

Holy Mother of God. It wasn't.

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