Samuel walked out of his fourth hour class, undyingly grateful that it was lunchtime. His high was wearing off and he really needed to roll any blunt.

He grabbed a paper bag from the top of his locker and slipped it into his book bag.

"I like your outfit." A cheerleader said, running her hand over his dreadlocks.

"…Thank you." Samuel said, looking down at his outfit.

Pink skinny jeans, pink sneakers, a white long sleeve shirt, purple suspenders hanging loose. What was so special about it?

Samuel wandered through the halls passing people by on their way to lunch and headed to the back of the school. Even though it was only the second day of school, and he was a freshman, he knew no one came outback.

He dropped his book bag on the asphalt and sat down beside it. He pulled out the paper bag and pulled the one blunt he had brought with him out of the bag. He fished his lighter out of his pocket and lit up.

Fifteen minutes later Samuel flicked the butt away and blew out a cloud of smoke. He sprayed himself with Ax body spray and drug into the bag of chips he brought with him.


Marissa left the cafeteria after she finished eating and headed down to the art room. It was something she had always loved and been good at, art. She sat down at one of the long paint stained tables and pulled out her sketchbook and sketching pencil. She put the end of the pencil in her mouth, trying to figure out what to draw when the door swung open. It banged against the wall loudly.

"Sorry." A boy with dreadlocks and pink jeans said, grabbing the door. "I was just…I don't know. I'll leave you be."

"No, no. Stay. It's okay." Marissa said, waving her pencil at the stool in the middle of the room. "Let me draw you."

The boy walked over and faced her on the stool.

"Turn away from me a little." Marissa instructed, pulling her hair back with a ribbon, like she always did before she started drawing.

The boy obeyed.

"Now look out one of the windows." She said.

The boy looked out the window. But he was sitting to formally.

"Sit like you normally would on a stool." She said, picking her pencil up again.

The boy slouched.

"Perfect. Don't move." She said, putting the pencil to the paper.

Every few minutes Marissa would look up. The boy sat there unmoving, a look of pure genius on his face, as if he was thinking really hard about his life.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, a few minutes later.

"Marissa von Bleicken." She said, pushing her bangs out of her face with the flick of her pencil. "No talking."

"I'm Samuel Larsen." He said, only moving his mouth.

"Nice to meet you Samuel. You make a very good model. No talking." Marissa said again.

"Thank you. Are you a freshman too?" he asked.

"No. I transferred from Dwight Academy. No talking."

"Dwight, huh? So you're a rich girl."

"Not anymore. No talking."

"What happened?" he sounded like he genuinely cared.

"My dad lost his job and couldn't afford it anymore. No talking." Marissa said again, not because she needed him quiet, because she didn't want to get into her past.

Samuel must have understood that, because he stopped talking, if only for a moment.

"If you're not a freshman, what grade are you?" he asked.

"I'm a sophomore." She said. "No talking."

"Why am I not aloud to talk?" Samuel asked.

"I'm working on your mouth and jaw, it'll mess me up." Marissa said.

The warning bell rang.

"I got most of it. Would you mind posing for me again tomorrow so I can finish?" she asked, putting her sketchbook away.

"Sure anytime." Samuel said, turning and facing her.

"Tomorrow, same time, same place." She smiled at him and ran off.

Samuel walked out of the classroom and watched Marissa scurry down the hall. His heart skipped a beat.

"Marissa, you are beautiful. Will you go out with me?" he asked as she turned the corner, out of his line of sight.

"What are you doing in my classroom, young man?" a teacher snapped.

"I was just looking for someone." Samuel said, walking down the hallway. "And I think I found her."