Elsa

Every bit of food that manages to make it through my lips sticks in my mouth in a clump of dissatisfaction.
I'm sure the cafeteria food isn't all that bad. I just don't have an appetite. I haven't had an appetite in a year.
I don't want to eat.

Yet, I still raise my fork toward my mouth again and again, almost as if my arm were a robot obeying the subconscious orders sent from it's programmer to survive.

I sit alone at my usual table. I don't mind sitting alone. You can't hurt anyone when you're alone.

It was cold.
The snow wafted down from the sky gently, as if it were afraid that if it were to fall any harder, it might hurt someone.
The little flakes needn't worry. Everyone was inside the house safely.

"Come on, Elsa!" A young girl with two pigtails dangling over her shoulders giggled joyously. It was Anna, my sister, a few years back. "It's snowing outside! Let's go play!" She ran from her spot at the window and down the hall to my room.

"No, Anna." Our mother stopped her before she could knock on the closed door of the bedroom. "Leave Elsa to herself; she isn't feeling well."

Jack plopped himself into the seat next to me, startling me out of my haze.

"You okay?" He cocks his head to the side as he studies me. I feel self-conscious under his gaze. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm..." I look down at my tray and poke at my meal with my fork. "Fine."

The smell of the freshly served food on Jack's plate wafts to my nose. The smell causes my stomach to churn.
I have no appetite.

I shove another bite of food into my mouth. I taste nothing.

Anna

I'm on my way to World Literature when my closest friend Olivia skips up next to me. We both have this class so we always end up walking there together.

"It's almost summer!" Her sing-song voice rings out. She loops her arm through mine in typical best friend fashion. "Just think; as soon as we're out of this place, we'll be doing whatever Freshmen's do in summer." Olivia is a little bit obsessed with school letting out for the year. Who wouldn't be, though? It's been a long year.

I laugh. "As soon as we're out of this place, I'm shedding my Freshman label forever and embracing my new life as a Sophomore."

"Making our way up the ladder!" She releases her hold on me long enough to give me a high five.

We've made our way to our class. We slip into the room and find our seats.
Olivia sits at my left-hand side.

I consider myself to be one of those people that's friends with a little bit of everyone.
Everyone generally likes me.
I'm Anna; that awkward girl that always manages to make herself look stupid so you can have a good laugh. I'm totally okay with that.

However, Olivia is by far my truest friend.
She's kind of awkward like me... only she's into cheesy jokes that she probably finds on the internet.

Whenever I go over to her house after school, we always end up singing and dancing to corny songs I would never admit to anyone I actually like.

"All right, Class." My World Literature teacher, Mr. Wright, strides to the front of the class, demanding our eyes' attention. "The first thing I want to touch on today is a partner project I would like to be turned in by the end of the week."

I can almost hear Olivia squeal with excitement next to me.
Glancing over at her, I can see she's giving me that "we're going to be partners" look.

"Hold your horses, guys." Mr. Wright breaks through. "Partners are assigned."

Ugh. Assigning partners is basically the same thing as dictating the entire country to the mind of a high school student.
Please, if we can't choose our own partners, you might as well take the rest of our rights, too.

Mr. Wright goes on to read aloud the list of partners he has paired together for the project.
Olivia ends up with a total brainiac. That makes for an easy A.

At last, I hear my name called out.

"Anna Snowe," I'm sitting at the edge of my seat. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. "and Kristoff Bjorgman."

My eyes wander over the room and find him sitting in the back row.
He nods his acknowledgment to me.

"He's like you." Olivia whispered to me during lunch at the beginning of the year.
She had noticed I was studying him as he strode across the room.
He wasn't fat; his frame was just bigger and stronger than all the other Freshman boys.
"He's a foster kid." Olivia explained in a hushed tone. "The only other one in our grade. He's like you."
"Oh."

"You can choose any classic author you would like to do your project on. But remember, it has to be a classic author. Doing a project on Stephen King isn't going to win you any points."

Mr. Wright goes on explaining the assignment, but I find my concentration dwindling.

He's like me.