I'm so mad at myself for letting you wait so long. So, so mad. But I was correcting it again and again and even now I'm not absolutely satisfied with it. Gosh my english is bad.

Something from past again, first classes of high school to be accurate. As you probably figured out (or I wrote you), it is based on my diary (and that's my only excuse for lack of action)

If you have anything on mind, really anything, tell me. I'd love to hear your ideas, questions and praising as well as criticism.

I thought I'm the last person to have stubborness issues. But the second Monday of my first year at high school proved me wrong. Or maybe I am the last person to have stubborness issues, but not when it comes to Jack. I still tried to persuade myself I was not going to like him. My selves were still in the middle of war, and although I had to laugh occasionaly at their quotes, it was quite annoying, listening to their senseless arguments and stupid reasons.

I got sick at the get-to-know-you camp, so I spent my first weekend in bed, healing myself with honey and hazelnut soup. I didn't have list of stationery and notepads back then, so when I went to stationery on Sunday, all I bought was a new sketchpad and some pencils. I felt totally unprepared for first classes, but as long as I had a sketchpad, it didn't seem so bad.

. . .

I walked through the small door into the school basement, which is used only by students, and went to my locker. I frowned on the narrow door of the locker as soon as I opened it.

It needs a little bit of decorating, I thought, but that will have to wait some time. I have other things to worry about now when I'm here.

I hurried up. The first lesson is Geography, classroom 12. But where is it? This building is a museum.

The ground floor. Classroom 5.

"Hey, Punz!" I heard, turned around and saw the redhead almost running to me.

"Hi, Mer. How was your weekend?"

She grabbed the toggle of my bag and pulled me upstairs. "Hurry! We have to get the best desk!"

"What is it about you and desks? You have some good-seat obsession or what? I highly doubt there will be some good situated desk anyway. We're quite late."

"Nonsense. You have to trust my persuasive skills." She rolled up her sleeves and we finally managed to find the classroom 12.

Uh oh. "Don't hit anyone, Mer. Not the first day of school." I saw her breathing in, prepared to have some remark, so I added quickly: "Officially the first day."

She just smiled, tilted her head to the side and started to look for some vacant desk. Her eyes stopped on the desk right in front of the blackboard. It wasn't exactly what she would choose if she had the chance, but she had not the chance, so it didn't matter.

"There!" she pointed and hurried to the blackboard, followed by me on the opposite side of the desks.

The moment before Merida put her bag onto the desk as a sign that it's hers, and two moments before I came there, two of our classmates outran us. I looked around for some unoccupied seat disappointedly and I think Mer started to argue, but for me, all sounds suddenly became only whispering and time went slowlier than ever, because the only one I found was next to Jack.

I didn't have time to scream in happiness internally, to look for another seat unavailingly, to think about where Merida was going to sit or why he was sitting alone. It was like some ghost was walking with my legs to him when I was too absent-minded to do so myself.

I don't remember details, everything seems in blur now and it wasn't different back then, but I know myself enough to think I asked him: "Can I sit here?"

And what else could he answer than "Yes." ?

That was our only conversation for more than two months. It took us a long time to start greeting each other and it took me even longer time to get rid of that uneasy feeling when I nearly controlled my breath while sitting next to him. Ok, maybe it wasn't such a long time before we started to greet, more like month or month and one week, but considering we saw each other everyday, it was like eternity.

Every Monday offered a perfect shock. After weekend, which made me think I'm over it, the first lesson was Geography, which proved me otherwise. It took me one glance at him to know I'm not over it and I was usually that lucky to see his face as the first thing after entering the classroom. And the cycle began once again.

. . .

Our first real conversation was at the end of November, if I don't count that one when he asked me if I have homework for Spanish and I replied yes.

On one November Sunday, when I was fed up with revising Geography, I opened the notebook in the middle and started to draw. It was a young girl with long wavy hair, hanging on a rope over large globe, painting on it with a thin brush. She wore a loose dress and a quiver around her waist filled with another brushes. She was painting somewhere around Antarctica, but the most visible part of the globe in the picture was Alaska. I didn't want to switch on the laptop, so I drew Alaska how I remembered it. Maybe it wasn't perfect and extra accurate, but it was fine and I was quite satisfied with the picture.

If the teacher examines me, I can show him this picture to get better mark, I smiled. It still needed some shading, but I decided to do it the following day. I switched off the light and went to bed.

In the morning, I caught the earlier bus, beacause I wanted to finish my drawing as soon as possible, and so I arrived to school half an hour before usual time. I sat myself down and drew, ignoring the ticking of clocks.

"Hi," Jack said and plonked himself down on the chair carelessly.

"Hi," I replied and started to sketch again. Come on, ask me about the picture, please.

"That's nice."

Thank you. "Thanks." I smiled and shifted the notebook to give him a better look. He looked at it for a while, then frowned a bit and asked: "This is Alaska, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

He glanced quickly at the map of the world, that was hanging on the wall over him. "Nice," he said again, "but what about these islands?" he criticised and pointed at the bay near Alaska.

"I know, I changed them a little. Maybe it's because I drew it by heart, so the map isn't that accurate."

"You drew it by heart?" He stared at me for a while, then at the picture, then back at me.

I think I blushed a little bit. "Yeah."

"Wow."

Wow, I thought too. I should unintentionally show him my drawings more often.