"Well make sure to build your house brick by boring brick,

or the wolf's gonna blow it down.

Keep your feet on the ground,

when you're head's in the clouds."

- Paramore

Chapter Two

The clapping was the same as it always was – the forced monotone clapping of my peers as I huffed a small sigh, walking away from the lectern with my short story in hand, walking towards my assigned seat that was cluttered with my pen, planner, water bottle, and phone.

"Alright, Angeline. I must say, that was your best short story yet," Mr. Randel commented once I was seated.

I froze and looked over at him, a confused expression on my face. Never had he ever said that to me before.

He read my confused expression and huffed a soft chuckle to lighten the mood. Others around me were either texting away on their phones, reading, or whispering with others about their own personal drama.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," he told me as he walked over to my desk since no one else cared to give me their reviews of my short story. "Your structure is definitely better. And I like how you showed the scene, not just told us about it," he said, emphasizing with his hands to the whole room even thought him and I were both perfectly aware of the fact that no one had been paying attention.

"Great work," he soon added with a satisfied smirk sent my way before he turned and returned to the lectern.

Just then, the bell rang and everyone shuffled to leave. It was Friday, the end of the nine weeks grading period, and early release day. All the lunch periods were pushed to the last periods of the day, so that would be my Creative Writing class after the first lunch block.

"Alright people. Make sure your rough drafts for your writing projects are turned into me on Monday!" he called to everyone. "Every day it's late is ten points. Let's not lose that much."

I couldn't wipe off the proud smile from my lips as I looked down at my story, getting to my feet and sliding the paper into my Avengers folder as I headed out the door. I lingered at my locker, making sure I had all I needed for my homework as well as what books from the small collection I kept in my locker I needed to take home.

Outside was still pretty cluttered with everyone who were leaving for home when I eyed the table in the courtyard by the parking lot. It was the literary magazine thing that Carson was talking about in that assembly some weeks ago.

How did he get full magazines so fast? I didn't think anyone would be interested in it.

"Come on, guys. Three dollars. Not gonna kill you," Carson called out to the passing students in a half-sarcastic, half-monotone voice.

Slowly, I halted to a stop nearby, watching as a passing jock opened a small bag of chips and dumped it onto the table. Thinking it was just oh-so hilarious, his friends laughed with him. One of them crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at Carson. I watched as the poorly-crumpled paper bounced off of his temple and fell to the earth. He didn't look the slightest moved. More bored if anything. Then, Carson leaned forward and brushed the chips off of the table.

When people finally cleared and nobody came up to the table anymore to humiliate him further, I watched as Carson and that Malerie girl begin packing up the magazines. Now was my chance. I wanted one of those magazines.

I walked up to the table and picked one up.

The atmosphere was silent as I smiled at the cover. It was creative. I opened to the first page to find a poem. Yes, I wanted this.

I reached into my back pocket and brought out my folded five ones.

I looked up at Carson to see him staring at me in confusion.

"Three dollars, right?" I asked as I motioned to the magazine with my money.

"Uhh..." I heard Malerie murmur.

"Yeah," said Carson, his voice flooded with confusion.

I pulled out three and handed it to him with an easy smile. I was surprised with how calm I was at that moment. I thought that maybe I would be nervous or something of the sort. But I wasn't. And that just made my smile a little more real than what it normally was.

He took it, putting it in the empty money box.

"Thank you," I said as I looked back down at the magazine in my hands.

I turned around and adjusted my backpack on my shoulder.

"Angel, right?" I heard him ask.

I froze. No one called me Angel. It was always Angeline.

I turned my head and looked at Carson with an unguarded expression. He knew my name.

"Yeah. A-Angeline, actually," I replied softly. "You...know my name?" I asked as I turned my body fully to face him.

He had just got to his feet while Malerie busied herself with packing the magazines away in the cardboard box they had nearby.

"Of course I do. You've been in every one of my math class since middle school. And you're in my Creative Writing class."

How could I forget? He was in my Creative Writing class. I didn't understand how I couldn't really remember something like that, but all that mattered at the moment was that I wasn't invisible. Carson was talking to me. And acquaintances or not, it meant a lot to me. A good way to end a boring school day...in my opinion.

I didn't know what to say, so I motioned to the magazine in my hand. "Is there anything in here yours?" I asked shyly.

He blinked, still looking shocked. "No," he replied slowly.

I shrugged and looked down at the magazine. "That's a shame. I was looking forward to reading something of yours," I told him earnestly as I looked back up at him.

It wasn't a lie. I was honest. Carson's work had always been more...alive than what everyone else wrote. He had a good head on his shoulders.

"Really?" he asked in denial.

I nodded my head.

"Your work isn't too bad yourself," he soon said as he motioned his head towards me.

My cheeks surely went scarlet at the compliment. "Thank you," I murmured.

"Um...did you want to join the literary magazine?"

I quickly shook my head. "Oh, no. Thanks, but no," I said with a smile. I then motioned to the parking lot where my old light blue Ford truck waited for me. "I have to get going. But I'll see you tomorrow?" I asked almost too casually.

He slowly nodded his head. "Yeah." He then blinked and looked at the magazine in my hand, motioning his hand to it. "Enjoy."

I smiled again and nodded my head. "I'm sure I will," I told him as I readjusted my backpack and stuffed my leftover money in my back pocket. I waved at Carson and looked over at Malerie. If she had been looking at me, I would have waved and smiled at her too, but she looked like she was more interested in packing those magazines away.

I got in my car and started my engine as I looked at Carson. He looked to be in deep conversation with Malerie, which was something I never saw him, or even her for that matter, do with anyone before.

I backed out of the parking space and headed home.

When I got home, I pushed what homework I had out of the way. My father was working a few extra hours late this evening, so I just heated up some leftover pizza and finished off my can of Pepsi I started drinking this morning. After that, I sat on the edge of my bathtub and began reading what was in the magazine as the tub filled up with hot water. I could have used the shower my dad had in his room, but I felt too exhausted for a shower.

After my bath, I cuddled up in bed and finished the magazine until I fell asleep. My favorite was the short story that talked about how love was the most important thing in the world, regardless of the person. It was written by one of those jocks, which surprised me. It was so moving and got me thinking about love.

There were so many times where I lost myself in a good book about love. It was a great way to fill up the empty space of not having someone to love me like how the guys love the girls in the books or the movies.

But unlike other girls my age, I knew how to keep my expectations low of boys, how to keep my feet fully planted on the ground.

I found Carson at his locker. He had a notebook opened in his hands, looking in it with furrowed eyebrows, looking so pensive and concentrated. For a second, I told myself it would probably be a better idea if I didn't approach him, but I decided to buy the pony of my first thought towards him, which was to say 'hi'.

I staid close to the row of lockers, avoiding any close contact with the traffic moving at a steady pace. Once at Carson's locker, I waited a moment. When he didn't notice me, I had to clear my throat. It always seemed to work.

Slowly, he looked over at me, his face confused. "Uh...hi?"

The smile I was wearing faltered, but I tried my best to keep it on. "Hi."

There was a moment of silence and we just stared at each other. It wasn't awkward, but it was just...there.

"I just...wanted to know if there will be a second literary magazine," I told him.

Again, that confused expression. I found it to be rather...cute?

"No," he said as he closed his notebook and put it away in his locker and closed the locker, now looking at me again.

It felt natural as we began moving into the traffic, walking together.

"Why not?" I asked.

I watched him shrug. "No one wants to write anything anymore."

I frowned. "Oh." This saddened me.

"Yeah..."

"That's a shame," I murmured. We were walking to lunch. We had the same lunch block.

"Really?"

I nodded my head. "Reader, in case you haven't noticed," I said as I motioned to worn, thick paperback novel in my hand.

I saw a half-smirk. "Yeah, I noticed. You're always reading something new."

If it weren't for the traffic, I would have froze mid-step while staring at him widened eyes. He noticed?

Being noticed by someone, even by Carson who everyone seemed to hate, was this big deal to me, but I didn't let it show. I just kept on a small smile, looking between my book and him.

The ale-cart line was nearly empty, so I awkwardly waved to Carson and left his side without a word. I hurried in the small line, bought an apple and water bottle. I went to head to the doors to go sit outside as usual to freeze at the sign of spring's rain. The sky was a dark grey, showing no signs of the rain stopping any time soon. I could go sit in the picnic area that had a roof over it to keep the rain out, but I'd hate to be eating in the atmosphere that the weather was giving the world outside.

I frowned, my figure slightly hunching down as I furrowed my eyebrows. Where was I going to sit now? I turned my head and looked around the lunch room. Not a single empty table.

Suddenly, Carson came up beside me and looked with me. "Want to sit with me?" he asked as he motioned to the table with his messenger bag and pile of books.

I couldn't help but smile, nodding my head. "That'd be great," I replied.

I followed him to his table and sit down in the chair opposite of him. Together, our stuff cluttered the table, only making room for our food and whatever we were going to be doing while we ate.

Carson got out a pen and notebook, going straight to writing as he chewed on his chips. I, on the other hand, bit into my apple ad went straight to reading my book. We ate like that for the whole period, just silence. It was comforting, knowing that there was someone who was okay with me being there, someone who was aware of me. There were a few times when I felt as if I was being watched, other times when I looked up to watch Carson.

I could get used to this.