Chapter 2. New school, same routine.

I am usually a very good judge for people. For instance, the girl next to me in the black, red lettered 'Bite me' t-shirt will first introduce herself, assume my name was Lillian – which legally, it was. Then, ramble about something totally unimportant.

"Hello, my name's Kate." Real name? Katilyn. "I'm guessing you're Alex Maxwelski' sister, Lillian." Her voice was excited, like she's never seen a new person before.

"Lilly." I corrected her happy-go-lucky-self. She glowered for two seconds, and then found something to smile about. Too cheerful, for me.

"Lilly . . ." she said, testing the name on her lips. "That's such a pretty name; I wish my name were that pretty ..."

Like I said, it was completely unimportant.

She rambled until the bell rang, which by then I had all my stuff pack and all I had to do was leave. I nodded to her -trying to be a little bit respectful, and left. When I got to my locker, I realized it was time for lunch. Shit! I hadn't made any friends, that I would want to sit next to, you know, people that I've met here don't really . . . click with me.

I walked to the front of the school, 5th and 6th period books in hand, and, of course, my favorite book. Romeo is so stupid. Searching for a bench to sit on until lunch was over.

I stepped out the bright red doors and my eyes caught the most piercing green I've ever seen.

My eyes immediately went down, and I hoped he didn't see the deep red blush on my cheeks. Instead, I searched for the bench I had found earlier that morning. Again.

I had been reading, on that bench. Pervert.

Then, I realized the owner of those piercing green eyes was sitting on it. Shit, again.

I didn't realize, until I heard a leaf crunch behind me, that someone had been following me. I immediately jumped, looking in the followers' way. Stupid thoughts, considering I'm in a school, everybody follows everybody else.

My eyes found sky blue eyes, and, then, I recognized the rest of the guy from my first four classes. Stalker, I joked with myself.

I can't remember his name. . . Allen, no . . . Jacob, no . . . Christopher? Maybe.

"Wow, jumpy much?" He laughed. "Hey," he said calming down, "I'm Chris," Real name Christopher. I was right. I don't understand why they shortened that name. I personally liked that name. Not as much as Damon, though. . . "You're Lillian?" He said it like a question, but it held too much confidence to be a question.

You know? I hated people like him, people who think they're everything and a bag of chips.

Time to knock down the male ego. My favorite pastime. Yay!

"Lilly." I corrected. I admit, I sounded annoyed, but I couldn't help it. Too many people had called me Lillian, and I was sick of it.

His face fell briefly, and then rose. "I was wondering what your fifth period was because I want to know if your following me." I laughed, good naturedly, reminding me of my previous joke.

Truthfully, he was a good-looking guy- eye candy, maybe. Dirty blond hair, broad shoulders that emphasized by the hair, dresses good- for winter. Nice ass.

Don't ask.

Just . . . not my type. His name in my mind was . . . stupid jock. I made another funny, ha! I need to stop making everything a joke.

"English and science, with Mr. Goliad and Mrs. Harper." I said seriously.

"Damn we do have every class together." He laughed, again. "I got to go, Kate's waiting for me. She's my girlfriend," He said, proudly, well I'm glad . . . the prep got with the jock. "I'll see you in 5th period." He turned and walked in the school, with a wave behind him. Asshole didn't even wait for a bye from me.

I swallowed, though I hating dealing with guys who hit on me. Even if they do have girlfriends.

I felt a poke on my shoulder a couple minutes later, and looked around to notice Alex's smile, the set of his several-time-broken nose, and smiled. And laughed.

"Hey, Alex what are you doing back in school?" We laughed, glad I could still make jokes. It makes both our lives happier ones.

"I wanted to invite you to be in my play, well 'the play'" it was a direct quote from someone who most likely pissed him off, most likely saying that he didn't write the play, so it's not his.. "It's called The Fallen Angel."

He spent the rest of the lunch hour explaining that it was a community play about a girl – the part he wants me to play- who is down in the dumps, and she a stuck-up, 'total bitch' , who learns there is people who go through worse than she does, then she turns nice. And lands up fallen in love with the guy that is teaching her all this. Then, she's stupid enough to leave him for India, so she could help the homeless . . .

I told him, I'd think about it.

And to tell the truth, I didn't think about it at all, well at least at first . . . I thought about those piercing green eyes, and wondering who the owner could be . . . all while Mr. Goliad was talking about verbs, and different types of verbs. I was thinking handsome, and the different types of handsome.

It wasn't until Mrs., Harper who droning on about chemical reactions that I forced myself to think about the problem at hand.

Do I really want to do this play? No. Did I owe my brother the benefit of the doubt? Yes. Could I survive being in a play? No. For my brother? I guess . . . maybe. Do I want to be bored at home? No way. so what else could I do? Soccer, and debate team, and track, and national junior honor society. Was it the season for any of that? No. am I fucked? Yes. So was I going to do this anyway? Yes.

Little did I know that this simple decision would alter the rest of my life, or would it be the rest of eternity?

Maybe?