This is the first chapter to a potential fic that I may or may not continue. I first need to finish The Unwelcome House Guest, but once that is done, I will either continue with this or move on to a few other fics I have started on.

If you've clicked on this and decided to read it, be a dear and leave a review at the end, just a quick note letting me know whether you're interested to see this be continued or not. Thank you!

"Ms. Fowl?" Cindy politely raised her hand. "Can we please move on to more…complicated problems? We've been working on this unit for a month now."

Ms. Fowl, who had been writing on the chalkboard, turned, tilting her glasses forward in the process, as if she'd be better able to identify the child who had interrupted her lesson. She sighed when she realized the disturbance had come from Cindy yet again. Ms. Fowl was beginning to wish Principal Willoughby would just let her skip a few grades, but the principal insisted that this social interaction was invaluable. He claimed that children like Cindy needed to experience normal, everyday, nothing special, mundane conversations with their peers. If not, they would isolate themselves and recede into their minds, never to come out again. While the principal had a point, it was unfair to the class and Cindy to keep her here.

These math problems were on the easy side, but some kids—namely Sheen—were struggling. Even Jimmy wasn't excelling like he usually did. Ms. Fowl only slowed the pace because the majority of the class didn't quite grasp the concepts she was trying to teach. The intro to pre-algebra teaching booklet had promised within a week's repetition, students would easily understand the subject. Maybe for regular students, Ms. Fowl mused. She planned on throwing out the booklet after class. It obviously didn't apply to the situation she found herself in.

Cindy grew tired of this repetition. She knew the numbers and equations as if they were old friends. She turned to Carl, hoping that he felt the same. "You get this, right?"

Carl reddened at the question, slightly fidgeting nervously in his seat. "A-actually Cindy, not really," he admitted. "I'm glad Ms. Fowl's going over it again. We're not as smart as you and Jimmy." He gestured with his shifting gaze that by 'we,' he meant the entire class.

The name of her long-time rival caused her to clench her desk tightly, her face reddening out of anger, not embarrassment. She turned to face Ms. Fowl to try and listen again, despite this sinking feeling that she would grow bored quickly and potentially begin daydreaming. She'd learned quickly not to daydream in class. He was always looking for an opportunity to embarrass her.

Speaking of him, she knew he had heard Carl. He was giving her a sidelong glance, and whether or not he was trying to be discrete, Cindy had the peripheral vision of a hawk. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows curiously. He immaturely stuck his tongue out at her and returned to taking notes. She rolled her eyes. Nothing would ever change it seemed. That boy was always willing to give an inappropriate gesture or send a rude insult her way.

Ms. Fowl was furiously scribbling equations on the blackboard, her frustrations with the principal's stubbornness, the booklet, and Sheen being firmly etched in the form of numbers. She had finished just as the bell rang to signal that the school day was now over. She threw the chalk over her shoulder, hitting Angie square in the face, and went to collapse onto her desk for the fifth time that day. Cindy shook her head as she watched the fifteenth almost-breakdown Ms. Fowl had experienced over the course of the week. The woman needed a break.

"Hey, Cindy?" Carl called. Cindy continued to stuff her notebook in her backpack, papers crunching and crumbling together as she carelessly shoved the notebook further into the depths of her backpack. "Are you walking home today?"

She slung the backpack over her shoulder and eyed Carl. "I walk home every day, Carl," she replied, giggling slightly at the question. She did in fact walk home every day, and Carl asked a similar question almost every week. It didn't bug her though. It was Carl, after all.

"Oh, good," he smiled. "I didn't want to walk home by myself."

The duo set off for their usual fifteen minute walk. Since they had walked this route an unfathomable amount of times during the school year, Cindy had, naturally, timed it. The first five minutes were spent in silence, allowing the two to gather their thoughts and dwell specifically on what they wanted to communicate with each other. The next five were claimed by Cindy, giving her barely enough time to gab over the most recent scientific discovery while Carl politely listening, patiently waiting for his five to shamelessly gush over llamas. Carl didn't quite understand why he and Cindy couldn't talk like normal people. It didn't bug him though. It was Cindy, after all.

Once they had reached Cindy's house, she gave a small wave goodbye and took the porch steps in one giant leap. She flung the door open, locked it behind her out of habit, and ran up the stairs into her bedroom. She'd been dying to come home all day, and now that she was here, she sat at her desk and whipped out her homework. She tossed her now light backpack onto her bed and burrowed her head in her homework, taking in the smell of the print as if it'd come straight off the press only minutes ago. In no more than twenty minutes, she was sure to be finished.

Ten minutes later, she sat back in the chair, smiling at the time it had taken her to complete a history assignment, a spelling pretest, a science take home lab, and fifty math problems. She pulled out a journal buried in the back of one of her desk drawers and scribbled something on one of the empty pages. New homework record: Nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. She flashed the inanimate object a smile and threw it back in the drawer. Maybe tomorrow she'd be able to shave off a few more seconds. She'd unfairly been interrupted by a grease stain Carl had left on the history assignment sheet. She told him he needed to wash his hands more, especially after sweating, crying, and eating.

She neatly set the pile of papers in the right corner of her desk and folded her hands, waiting for something to happen. She could feel the gears in her brain turning, but no immediate ideas struck her of what to do next. She knew that she now sought some form of entertainment after having completed her mandatory homework. She decided to give her best friend a call and see what he could tell her.

She quickly ran out of the room for the only phone in the house, which was conveniently located downstairs in the kitchen, tripping over her feet along the way. She had such terrible athletic abilities; it really was a surprise that she was still alive at all. Of course that Jimmy was talented there. It was one of the few things he was better at then her, and he was sure to remind her every chance he had.

Once she finally reached the phone with no more than a bruised knee, she dialed her desired ten digit number. Pressing the phone hard against her face, she waited for him to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Carl. I know that we last saw each other only ten minutes ago, but I was wondering if you wanted to do something."

"I don't know," Carl began, "I still have to do all of those assignments Ms. Fowl gave—"

"Don't worry about those," Cindy interjected. "I'll help you."

The line was quiet for a moment. "Can I invite Sheen?"

Cindy rolled her eyes. "Sure. Just hurry up."

"Okay, Cin. See you soon!"

She hung up the phone and whistled happily as she made her way back upstairs. Her bedroom door swung open slightly before she even reached her room, welcoming her inside one of her safe havens. She nodded to show her appreciation for this warm welcome and continued her swagger until stopping suddenly before her mattress. The gleaming white sheets shone with a fierce intensity, momentarily blinding her with their perfection. Her pillow, probably fluffed by her mother, looked as soft and comfortable as cup of cocoa on a stormy night. Her bed sheets began to beckon her to come, prodding, encouraging, her to wrap them around her like a delicate yolk within the security of a pearly white shell. She tried her best to resist the invitation. While it was true that she had not been sleeping well for the past several nights, she did not want to sleep. Other, more important, matters had overtaken the time she usually dedicated to temporal hibernation. But even now, her body's desires won over her mind's.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of the doorbell. She shook her head as if the act itself would help her regain her usual level of alertness, but drowsiness had set in, causing her mind to swim in the depths of fantasy rather than rise to the shores of reality. Her faithful companion came bounding into the room, a noticeable spring in his step. She forced a smile though her head felt as if she'd slept under water, the pressure building up so bad that she gasped in discomfort as a surge of pain electrocuted her skull. I need to get more sleep, she thought as she gripped her head in the hopes that it would stop spinning. I wouldn't be feeling this way if I just went to bed. It wasn't like Cindy had much of a choice in the matter. She really did have to stay awake. There were so many things a person couldn't accomplish in the time accounted for in a day. If sleep needed to be sacrificed, then that is just what she would do.

She stumbled out of the bed, her feet tying themselves together like shoelaces. She crashed into her desk and sputtered out insults regarding its building material as she hurried to straighten herself. That ought to teach it a lesson, she proudly thought after the desk had been scolded properly. She nodded once at it and headed out the door. She took the stairs carefully, her head not spinning as much as it had been moments ago, but her body teetering from side to side like a ship rocking back and forth from wobbly waves. Her sides hurt by the time she reached the bottom. Smacking against the wall and railing in alternation hadn't done much for her health, or her rapidly declining ego concerning her athleticism. She wrapped an arm around her forefront to grab the right side of her body, just above her waist. With her free hand, she answered the door.

"Hi, Cindy!" Sheen and Carl chanted in unison.

"You guys are early," she muttered as she stood aside to let them in. A smile crept on her face as they bustled in and sat down on her couch, Sheen putting his feet up on the coffee table and Carl playing with his inhaler.

"What did you want to do?" Carl curiously asked, his eyes never leaving the inhaler in hand.

She shrugged and joined them on the couch. "I'm done with homework…"

"That's a surprise," Sheen rolled his eyes as he gave her a teasing smile. She threw him a semi dirty look. "You know I'm just giving you a hard time, amiga. I wish I understood those math problems Ms. Fowl was trying to teach us like you do."

Cindy tried her hardest to stifle a giggle, but her boastful nature led her to make a comment. "Sheen, she eventually had to start at the beginning, reverting to showing you that two plus two equals four. We learned that in kindergarten."

Carl and Cindy stared at their friend in astonishment. He shrugged nonchalantly, shifting his legs so that one crossed over the other. Cindy's gaze wandered over towards his legs. "Mom hates it when you put your feet on the table like that."

Sheen sighed and brought each foot down dramatically, carpet meeting shoe in noises sounding as loud as claps of thunder. "I'm bored. Why'd you even call us over if we're not going to do anything?"

Carl's focus had been redirected back towards the inhaler. He was fingering it curiously, like a small child who had been given a new toy. Wrinkles of fascination were carved into his face, and his eyes swept the inhaler back and forth. Cindy noticed her friend's interest in the inhaler. Considering for a moment to venture a guess, she eventually settled on asking Carl outright why his inhaler was more captivating than usual.

For a moment, he didn't respond. He gave one last longing look at the inhaler then stuffed it away in his pocket. "Sorry, guys. I was just thinking."

"About what? Tell me it wasn't math because—"

"Shh!" Cindy grabbed Sheen's lips and held them shut. He squirmed in her grasp, his body wriggling like a worm's, but she held them firmly together. "What were you thinking about?"

"It's nothing, really," Carl replied. He hadn't wanted to bring it up. He'd wanted to let these feelings subside, but they'd begun to creep into his nightmares like dark shadows that held terrible truths. He'd always felt better when he was awake, but even then the feelings and images still haunted him. He couldn't voice these thoughts for fear of being rejected by his two closest friends. He gazed into Cindy's deep green eyes, allowing himself to be taken in by their inherent beauty. They were soft and reflected a person who genuinely cared for him. It still did not make a difference.

"What is it?" she quietly asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. She had let go of Sheen's lips once he had stopped squirming, and even he, the maniacal boy who didn't understand the meaning of silence, was quiet.

"It's nothing," Carl said as he gave a convincing smile. "I was just…thinking about what I'd do if The Adventures of Jake the Llama was canceled."

Both girl and boy sat back in relief, glad to know that nothing more serious was troubling their friend.