FIRST ENCOUNTER

WHEN MY ALARM WENT OFF I GROANED AND pulled the covers back over my face. Sure, it was Friday, but I had only gotten a few hours of sleep. I was beginning to regret staying up half the night studying for an exam I knew I was going to fail regardless.

I lay like that for a good five minutes. Eventually time caught up with me and I had no choice but to get up and face the day. I unwillingly tossed the covers away from my face and rolled out of bed.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror across the room. I took two steps towards it and tripped, gasping in pain. I looked down and saw that my history book was to blame. I attempted to kick it out of my way, but the book didn't budge and I stubbed my toe in the process. "Owe!" I hissed; grabbing my foot and hopping around my room until the pain subsided.

I approached the full length mirror that hung against the far, pale green wall of my room.

My comforter was a shade of cream with a mauve damask pattern on it. On the adjacent wall –– to the left of my bed –– was where my antique, wooden dresser sat; angled against the wall because of the window –– which faced out into the backyard.

I sighed at my reflection. I unsuccessfully tried to smooth the bags that were under my eyes with my index finger. As I tried to manually tighten the skin in several places on my face –– just to see what I would look like; my mom called up to me from the bottom of the stairs. "Cassie are you up?"

I opened my bedroom door and yelled down to her, "I'm up. I'll be down in a minute." I didn't mean to sound so crabby, but I almost couldn't help it.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, now focusing on my hair. Since it was already doing its own thing, and I wasn't in the mood to fight it, I pulled my long blond hair into a ponytail and then headed over to my dresser.

I pulled out a gray t-shirt ––that happened to match the sky on this particular March morning –– and paired it with my favorite shirt –– navy blue, hooded sweatshirt; I always wore it on test days. It didn't bring me luck, it was just comforting. I found a pair of jeans in a clothes pile on floor; I was pretty sure they were clean. I had been telling myself for weeks that I needed to clean my room, but kept finding excuses not to. I was determined to get some cleaning done over the weekend, even if it meant getting my mom on my case.

I walked back over to the place where I had abandoned my history book, picked it up and hurried to the kitchen.

Claire was putting her grading book into her brief case. She was a first grade teacher at the local elementary school. She loved kids, but after she had me she was never able to get pregnant again.

I looked absolutely nothing like her. As a matter of fact, I looked nothing like either of my parents; I used to seriously wonder if I had been adopted. My long, wavy blond hair and blue eyes, not to mention my short stature –– a mere five feet two inches tall –– were no match to them. Claire, on the other hand, was gorgeous. I envied her short, curly brown hair, and big brown eyes. She was at least six inches taller than me. My dad –– I didn't see him very often anymore –– and I shared one common feature; we both had the same blue eyes. He, like my mother, was also brunette and tall, like six-foot something. So how I ended up blond and short was a complete mystery.

My parents separated three years ago. They were still married, but lived separately. It worked out better that way for all of us. My dad traveled a lot and it was really hard on my mom, so they separated. I was okay with it. My dad and I weren't very close or anything because he was never around. My parents had date nights set aside so they could still spend time with one another. After all, they were still in love. I thought it was extremely cute.

My mom eyed me curiously when I sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal. "You're wearing that to school?" she frowned at me.

"Is there something wrong with it?" I asked, looking down to examine my clothes.

"No, she paused. "I just thought you might have worn the sweater I bought you yesterday."

I was sort of embarrassed by the fact that my mom still picked out clothes for me. I didn't know many other girls my age whose mother's still shopped for them. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate it –– because I so did –– it was just awkward. But she was very fashion forward. The only reason she did it was because she wanted me to be more girly, and I mean Barbie girly. I was girly, just not to her liking.

"I'll wear it tomorrow." I compromised. That obviously wasn't what she wanted to hear because she kept staring at me. "What?" I groaned.

She hesitated before responding. It's nothing really," she said uncomfortably. I think you have a zit," she said tapping under her left eye.

I sighed. "Mom it's not a zit. It's a scab, or a scar, or something…" It definitely was not a zit. It had been there for so long I hardly noticed it anymore. It was so small I was surprised she had noticed it.

Claire looked unconvinced. "Right," she said as she dug through her purse for her car keys. Once she found them her attention switched back to me. "Make sure you eat something," she said, pointing to the cereal I hadn't even touched. She picked up her briefcase and headed towards the door. Claire waited at the door for a response.

"Don't worry, I'll eat." I lied. Then she was gone.

Nine times out of ten I never ate breakfast. The cereal in front of me was all a show. I wasn't really a morning person and that concerned Claire. She always used the 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day' line on me, especially before a big test. It always made me feel nauseous. I soaked the spoon in the milk a few times before getting up from the table. I poured the uneaten cereal down the drain, and then hurried out the door. I could no longer avoid it; I had to leave now or I would be late for school.

When I pulled into the parking lot I regretted leaving so late. I had to drive around three times before I found a spot near the back of the lot. I took a deep breath as I glared at the large brick building ahead of me. With only fifteen minutes to spare before first hour, I pulled my backpack off the passenger's seat and into my lap, swinging one strap over my shoulder as I got out of the car. As I crossed the parking lot all I could think about was how much I couldn't wait for this day to be over. I had two whole hours before history, and I dreaded every tick of the clock.

I made my way through the crowded halls –– over one thousand-two hundred students –– to my locker to dispose of the books I didn't need. I crouched down to pick up my calculus folder from the bottom of my locker. Someone lightly tugged my pony tail, and I flinched; my calculator when crashing to the floor. I heard a giggle and recognized it at once as my best friend Hailey.

"Wow, what's wrong with you?" she teased.

"Nothing, I didn't get much sleep," I complained as I retrieved my calculator.

"Sorry," Hailey apologized in an exaggerated tone.

I shut my locker and we walked to calculus. I was actually dreading calc more than my history exam. I hated math, but by some weird twist of fate I happened to be really good at it. "I only got four hours of sleep last night, so don't expect me to be anything but cranky." I said conversationally.

Hailey's eyes were wide. "Only four hours? What were you doing last night?" The tone of her voice made my lack of sleep sound scandalous.

"Studying," I said flatly.

She smirked, so I knew she wasn't buying it. "Right, studying," she enthused using air quotes.

I hit her arm. "History test third hour, Hail. And it's not like I'm seeing anyone, so don't go there. And even if I was ––"

She interrupted my rant. "Chill, Cassie." Hailey said, sounding a little defensive.

We walked into calculus class and took our usual seats near the back of the room. The bell rang a minute later. Mrs. Cooper walked in, and without so much as a good morning, class, began the lecture.

I wasn't paying attention. I had my history notes out –– I was pretty confident that I could figure out today's lesson on my own. I read and reread my notes on the Civil War throughout the hour. I was certain I had at least a C average in history, but I needed to keep my grade there. It was March and graduation was in May, I couldn't afford to let my grade slip now.

Time was not on my side; calculus was over almost as soon as it had started. I had chemistry next. I knew I wouldn't get any last minute studying done in that class.

Chemistry flew by. I wasn't sure what our lecture was over; I had spent the entire hour trying, no, forcing my eyes to stay open against their will. I was relieved when that class ended, but it suddenly struck me that my next class was history. I dragged myself to class in defeat.

I sat in my seat –– the last desk in the row next to the window. I glanced over my notes one last time, trying to commit every word I had written to memory. Mr. Jackson entered the room just as the bell sounded. I closed my notes and put them on the floor under my seat.

Mr. Jackson spoke enthusiastically, "Alright put your notes and books away." He had the tests in his hand. I watched in horror as he handed a stack of tests to the first person in each row. I was so preoccupied watching the rest of the class gloomily receive their tests that I wasn't paying attention to my own row.

"Cassie!" A deep voice hissed unexpectedly.

It startled me and I jumped a little. I tried to hide my embarrassing reaction by shifting in my seat. I turned my attention to the person sitting in front of me, Randy Bateman. He stared at me through narrowed eyes, holding out a test for me to take. "Sorry," I sighed, as I took the test from him. He didn't respond. Randy quickly spun around and began scribbling down answers.

I stared down at the test in front of me. I read through some of the questions before writing any answers. I was happy that I knew some of the answers for sure. Maybe I would actually do better than I anticipated.

The rest of the day moved quickly. It was already seventh hour and I had English. I just had to make it through one more hour and then I would be home for the weekend.

As I turned into Mrs. Parker's classroom, I almost immediately collided with another student who happened to be exiting the room at the same time. I looked up to apologize.

He was tall, brunette, wearing a plain white t-shirt –– that flatter his physic –– and a pair of jeans that actually fit his waist, as opposed to the baggy jeans that most guys wore hung around their thighs. His name was Rob Fox, and his last name did his appearance justice. Most of the girls referred to him as "McFoxy" behind his back. I caught on to the humor in the nickname eventually.

Rob had moved to Springfield two years ago with his twin sister, Audrey, and their father, so rumor had it anyway. I knew who he was –– everyone did; but I had never spoken to him or had had a class with him until today apparently.

"Sorry," I apologized awkwardly as I tried to slide out of his way.

He smiled for a moment, and then it became a sort of dance. We kept mirroring each other's steps in an attempt to get out of the way. Rob grabbed my shoulders, smiling with his eyes as he gently moved me aside. –– he had the most amazing, unique hazel eyes I had ever seen. I had barely moved an inch before his hands were off me and he was abruptly glaring. He shoved past me and out of the room.

I headed for my seat in the middle of the room, but stopped short when I noticed someone else's books and leather jacket were already occupying my desk. So instead, I took the adjacent seat.

I gave my undivided attention to Mrs. Parker, watching as she walked slowly, but confidently to her desk at the front of the room. She smiled warmly to the class and then turned her attention to the white board. She picked up a marker and scrolled Beowulf across the board. She was probably in her late fifties; her gray hair was always pulled back into a bun. She wore glasses and skirts, too long for her petite frame, making her appear shorter than she already was.

The bell rang just as Mrs. Parker had finished scrolling Beowulf across the board; she turned to face the class again. "Today," she began cheerfully. "I want you to pair up and rewrite the first one-hundred lines of Beowulf into your own words." She stopped and pondered for a moment. "Let's see…" she said, pressing her index finger to her lips. "Everyone pair up with the person to your right."

I looked over my shoulder. McFoxy was sitting to my right. I hadn't even seen him come back into the room. I had had a dull morning, but things were suddenly looking up. Before I could say anything, he spoke.

"Partners?" he smiled warmly.

His voice was just as smoldering as the rest of him. It sent chills down my spine.

"Uh, yeah…" was all I could manage to say on top of an awkward grin. Maybe I had just imagined him glaring, or maybe it wasn't me he was angry with. How could it have been anyhow?

Our eyes met and I practically melted when he smiled at me again. I continued to stare at him even though his attention had turned to the open book on his desk.

A fraction of a second later his head snapped up and he looked at me through narrowed eyes, like he was inspecting me or something; Rob's expression suddenly become oddly conflicted.

I was taken aback by the blatant change, and looked away. He was glaring again, but it was a strange expression, like he was trying to hide it or something. If he was trying to hide it, he wasn't succeeding.

I frantically opened my English book and flipped through the pages trying to find Beowulf. Once I found the right page, I pretended to read it. I was too self conscious ton really pay attention to what I was reading. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he wasn't looking at me anymore.

"Let's make this easy on ourselves," he said bitterly, catching me by surprise. "I'll rewrite the first fifty lines and you can write the other half."

I nodded. I figured it was the safest response. Clearly I hadn't been imagining his angry stare a few minutes ago.

"Look…"he paused uncertainly. "I think we'll get it done a lot faster this way. And no offense, but I don't work well with others. I'm very independent."

"Fine." I retorted, keeping my eyes on the book in front of me.

After staring at the book for several more minutes, I looked up to see what Rob was doing. He was vigorously working on the assignment. I should have been doing the same, but I couldn't help but wonder why he was being so rude. It wasn't like he had a reason to dislike me, we had literally just met.

Rob shifted in his seat and then looked up at me. He must have noticed me staring. I would have looked away, but I wanted to read his expression again. He was still angry. His lips were pressed together in a tight line, his eyebrows pulled together. His left hand was resting on top of his desk in a fist.

"Are you going to start the assignment sometime today?" he spat.

I was under the impression that he was trying to intimidate me. I don't think he liked me staring. I wasn't afraid of him though. I was more curious than anything.

I took a deep breath. "What is your problem?"

He glared at me. I don't think he was expecting me to question his attitude. "You can't be serious…" he trailed off in a cold tone.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, shocked by his dodgy reply.

"Don't you know who I am?"

Ego maniac crossed my mind, but I kept that to myself. "What were you like in a movie or something?" I asked dryly. "You're Rob Fox, so what?"

"Brilliant observation," he muttered.

"There's more?" I pressed. I had to hear his answer. There was no way I was dropping the subject now.

He didn't respond at first. He looked at me trying to determine if I was being sarcastic or not. "Drop it okay?"

"Not okay," I hissed.

"Excuse me?"

"What's your damage?" I seriously wanted to know.

"My damage?" he repeated in the same aggravated tone. All of a sudden a twisted smile appeared on his face; like he was enjoying an idea behind the question. His expression creeped me out more than it probably should have.

"Well you seem to be struggling with the fact that we're supposed to be partners on this assignment." I emphasized.

"Maybe I am." He admitted shamelessly.

"Why?"

Rob laughed. He was acting very strange. For someone every girl in the senior class was head over heels for I didn't understand what they all saw in him. All I got out of our time together was that that he was an 'independent', ego maniac; jerk.

There was nothing special about him. The only thing that worked in his favor was his good looks. That was all he had going for him from my perspective. I had never been one to judge a person on a first encounter, but I made an exception this time. Rob could have been the poster child for the expression, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"You know I really don't want to fail this assignment so you should get started on it sometime this semester." He scowled.

I wrinkled my nose, and looked down at the book to begin the assignment.

When the bell finally rang I grabbed my books, planning to exit the room dramatically. Maybe Rob was had the same idea because he was almost to the door before I had even left my desk. I picked up my pace and shoved past him through the doorway, managing to knock him into the doorframe in my haste. I didn't check his reaction, I just continued on my way.

All I could think about as I left the building was what reasons Rob could have had for not liking me. Had he caught me starring? Was he offended by it? Was it something I said?

The weird part was that it actually bothered me that he seemed not to like me. Why did I care? There was just something about him. He seemed to think I should be afraid of him, or at least he wished I was. Why, out of all the people at our high school, was he trying to intimidate me? Rumor had it that Rob was a nice guy, but after meeting him; his nice guy persona was shattered in my book.

"What's got you so worked up?" Hailey wondered, as we made our way through the parking lot.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"I know you better than that, Cassie."

"It's just this guy ––" I began.

Hailey skipped and clapped her hands with delight. "A guy!" she squealed. "I need details, stat!"

I shook my head. "No, it's kind of embarrassing."

"What happened?" she pressed, trying to hide a giggle.

"I'll tell you later."

Fine, but at least give me a name." She pleaded as we approached my car.

That was when I saw him. He was standing at his car with his sister, Audrey. They were parked in the row ahead of me. Rob's eyes met mine briefly, and then he looked away and said something to his sister.

I looked at Hailey. "Him," I said, lifting my chin to hint in his direction.

Hailey whirled around to check out the mystery man. "Rob Fox!" she gasped with excitement.

I immediately clapped my hand over her mouth. Everyone around us ––including Rob –– had probably heard her.

"Shh!" I begged.

Hailey's eyes fell apologetically and I dropped my hand.

"Sorry!" she whispered. "I can't believe it! Where did you meet? How did you meet?"

"We got paired up in English."

She looked confused. "You never mentioned him being in your English class."

"That's because he wasn't until today."

Hailey pondered that for a moment. "Details!" she prodded.

"He was rude the entire time. I don't know what girls see in him."

"Rude," she paused. "Really?" Hailey wondered in disbelief.

"Yeah he was trying to intimidate me or something. And his ego is about as big as the school."

"Bummer," she replied gloomily.

I quickly glanced over at Rob again. He and Audrey were getting into their car.

"Hailey I'll talk to you later okay? I said quickly, unlocking my black Saturn and climbing in. She nodded and headed to her car.

I backed out of my parking space quickly, cutting Rob off in the process. It was unintentional. After all, He was in my way. Had he purposefully gone out of his way just to irritate me even more? Never-the-less, I was more than happy to cut him off. Rob laid on his horn, but I ignored his road rage and sped away.