I shall apologize, but the next chapter will take awhile. I have strep throat, and I'm currently banned from the computer until I'm better. And you know what's dandy? I have state testing this week, so I'm going to fail it because I'm taking the test, and I'm sick. I really don't care if anyone thinks this is a sorry excuse, because it's on your own accord, not mine!


"I kinda like having a nickname." Elena said absentmindedly, her phone on speaker, zooming her way through a book report at the same time. She thought back to when Jimmie caught her in the hall.

Charmaine paused; she never gave a nickname to Elena before, because she never wanted one. She was typing wickedly on her cell phone keyboard, her left arm was movable again, but she didn't quite tell Jimmie yet. She was currently texting him, waiting a minute or so after typing her reply, to seem as if she's typing slowly with one hand. "What do you mean, having a nickname? Did Felix give you one? He calls me 'Charm Bracelet'." Charmaine said to her phone, sticking her tongue out."

"Nah, Rocket Man did." Elena clarified, typing finishing touches of her report, fixing the errors and grammar. "He calls me 'Lena."

"Wow, how original." Charmaine replied cynically, just as her phone beeped another new text message. "Dude, Jimmie sent me a text message. It says 'I asked 'Lena your address the other day, would you be mad?' Elena! Who gave you permission to give people my address!?"

"Sorry, I thought you'd be happy I gave him your address." Elena said, the printer spitting out her book report page by page.

"Sure I would, but I'd prefer it if you tell me beforehand."

"It wasn't like I had you at my grasp." Elena replied, stapling her report and slipping it into her folder. "Finally, it's done!" she sighed in relief.

"Your book report?" Charmaine questioned. "I decided Jimmie needed a break, so I typed it in computer applications class." Her phone beeped again, and she realized she never replied to Jimmie beforehand. "I forgot to text him back

.… 'I guess you would be mad?' Aw, man."

She pressed quickly on the keyboard to say that she wasn't mad.

"Felix is asking if you want to go to the library today, the three of us." Elena's voice piped up, the sound of her keyboard keys going back and forth like a chopped up song. "I'm talking to him online. Oh gosh, I hate slow typers, and he's one of them. Does Jimmie text slow?"

"Surprisingly, no." Charmaine admitted, her cell phone beeping once more. "He actually texts pretty fast." She waited for her friend to reply, and heard nothing but her fast-paced typing. "I sang with Jimmie, it was, kind of nice." Elena's typing soon ceased as the words came out of her mouth. "Now that I have your attention…"

"Miss Darbus said you two were awesome." Elena said. "Is it true?"

"I don't know," Charmaine replied in defense, staring at another of Jimmie's messages. "He says, 'I just remembered something I wanted to talk to you about' Okay, what do you think this means?"

"It means he wants to talk to you." Elena said in a monotonous dry tone. "Hold on, I have another call,"

"Hold up—"

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Charmaine sighed; she was left hanging, only a small dial tone to keep her company. After a few seconds, she pulled out the list her and Rocket Man have been doing for the past time. For the most part, the list was dominated by Jimmie's various abbreviations and handwriting that were barely legible. She decided Jimmie's thoughts on their list were beginning to fade, because ever since Charmaine's arm healed, she could freely write on her own. But in truth, the list lived up to its title 'Ways I Can Think Happier Thoughts', she did feel happier.

She took out her royal purple pen and smoothed the paper on her desk. She neatly wrote 'Number 23:' and paused. She scrolled down the list, from number one ('Think about how much Jimmie Zara is going to owe me') to number twenty-two ('A banter between volleyball and basketball always puts you in the mood')

"Number twenty-three… to just talk." Charmaine finally wrote, thinking to Jimmie's past message. She did enjoy the feeling of talking, because everything in talking, the mannerisms, the tones, the words, represented what you thought. She also thought taking wish Jimmie was more opened, she didn't have that courteous kind of talk to her elders, or the controlled way she had to keep in check with Elena.

She cringed as her cell phone played off her ring tone, and she angrily clicked the send button, her eyes still attempting to concentrate on the paper in front of her. "Elena! You just made my train of thought fall off a bridge and kill all my ideas!" She finally took her ear away from the phone, reading the screen in embarrassment.

"You know, you could just say 'I lost my train of thought'."

Charmaine rapped the top of her head as hard as possible. "I thought you were Elena, Jimmie." She gripped the tip of their list tightly, breathing in and out. "I'm sorry, just a little racked."

"Don't worry about it," Jimmie said, unknowing that he was actually relaxing the girl; Charmaine still had the urge to hit her head again. "By the way, Elena said that she'll say hi to Felix for you."

"What?" She then hit her forehead, breaking her self-control. "Oh, that. I remember. Thanks."

"Hey, can we like, not talk on the phone?" Jimmie asked, causing Charmaine to wear a face of confusion. "I'm wasting my minutes."

"Then where are we—" he hung up on her. She frowned; did everyone feel like it was right to hang up on her? She heard a sharp tap from her window, and she froze. "Shit,"

"Charms!"

Immediately when she heard that voice, she snapped open the window and yelled at the basketball captain, "What the hell? You could have warned me! You scared me!" There was terror in her eyes. "I'm all alone in this house! And I've got a baby brother taking a nice nap in his room! I assume if someone is tapping at my window they want to kill me!" She was breathing rapidly, like the air around her was thinning rapidly.

"Dude, calm down." Jimmie put his hands on her shoulders, trying to pull back the tension.

"How can I calm down!?"

"I'm not a killer." Jimmie reasoned, smiling broadly. "I swear I'm not. Unless you've watched that episode of Medium, and you see that actor that looks like me, holding a gun—do you get the point?" he asked, ceasing his rambling.

"I get that you're not a killer!" the girl clarified, cupping her hands over her mouth and trying to stop her overzealous inhaling. "The only thing I cant not freak out about is the fact that Jimmie Zara," the words came out muffled from her hands, so she feebly removed her hands away from her face, pointing at Jimmie. "You, now I'm freaking out that you're at my house, why!?" Jimmie cocked his head to his side, making Charmaine slap back her hands over her face, to her eyes. "Don't do that!"

"Do what?" he laughed.

"Making yourself look innocent!"

"It works, doesn't it?" Jimmie said with a small smirk.

"A devil in disguise." Charmaine pulled herself from the window. "So, now that we've gotten most of my insanity of this event out, why are you here?"

"Duh, to see you." Charmaine bit her lip, fighting the urge not to misinterpret her thoughts. So Jimmie wanted so see her. Big deal, okay, very big deal. "Move over a bit." Charmaine ignored him, and he placed his Vans slip-on the windowsill, and attempted to climb up and in.

Charmaine's brown eyes widened. Now Jimmie was trying to get in her house! "No-no, just no." She weakly tried to push the Rocket Man back outside. "You don't go through my window. In fact, you don't go in my house at all!" With a final push, she balanced her hands on Jimmie's shoulders. "Look, if my parents find out you're in my house, we will never see the light of day."

"Charms, chill." Jimmie said, her friend keeping rapt attention between him and the door opened barely a crack. "Where are your parents?"

"Mom, work. Dad, not too sure, possibly gym." Charmaine replied, chopped and quick-like. "Look, I'm not saying I don't want you here, because I really do. I'm saying that—okay, I never talk properly on situations like this, so bear with me." She suddenly gripped Jimmie's shoulders tightly, like she was holding onto her life line. "I need to chill, right."

Jimmie grabbed her wrists in a vice-like hold, and removed Charmaine's grip from his broad shoulders, letting the circulation return. "Then what? You're at home with your brother, that's all. I'll be out in no time for sure, and your parents will never notice." Jimmie winked, finally sticking his white beanie-clad head in his friend's room. "Nice place."

"Eh," grimaced Charmaine, backing away from Jimmie. "Too much Babe Repellent." Charmaine finally put Rocket Man into realization that his cologne, Babe Magnet, was only driving the girls away. "You're lucky I still stick with you. Didn't I tell you how much—I don't mean to be blunt, but I don't like it."

Jimmie's face faltered for a moment. "Is it really that bad?" he asked, lifting up one of his arms and sniffing it.

Charmaine gave her friend a sad look. "I'm sorry, it's that bad. And you really can't smell yourself; you're too used to your scent." The girl turned around, she stared at the space of the wall, as if in a trance "I'll be right back. Stay."

As soon as Charmaine left, Jimmie found the opportunity to slip in the window and land on an un-made bed. The walls were an old white, and there was a desk with a small computer, and a large amount of papers lining it, so you could barely see the top.

He suddenly spotted his handwriting, and reached up to grab the middle piece of paper on the desk. He remembered this list, Ways I Can Think Happier Thoughts; he thought Charmaine had lost it after the two weeks afterward, when her arm started to heal. But here it was, in his hands. After number twenty-two, his handwriting stopped, and Jimmie noticed Charmaine's handwriting down. "Just talk?" He read in confusion. He placed the paper back on the desk, hopefully unnoticed that it was touched, and sat back on the bed.

"It's nice to know when I say 'stay' you do the exact opposite." Charmaine said softly, going back in her room with two small vials in her hands. Jimmie eyed them warily. "Relax." Charmaine chimed, as if she was reading his mind. "They're just some cologne samples my dad gets. He works there; I don't know which department, but still." She threw one of the vials at Jimmie, who caught it even though unprepared. "My parents know their stuff, and they tell me that this is really good."

Jimmie watched the young girl sit next to her, in a large black shirt and blue shorts; she's been home all day, on a Saturday, still in pajamas. "You really need to get out more." He said, scrutinizing the vial, it was some sort of green-ish tinted thing, and the name looked really out of this country. He unscrewed the cap and let a drop go on his arm. He sniffed it. "Not bad."

"Yeah," she murmured, a small smile forming on her face. "You can keep that. In fact, take the other vial, too. It's the same thing."

"Thanks," Jimmie stocked them in his front pocket. "You really know all this cologne business?"

Charmaine shrugged. "It always depends on your skin type though. Colognes and perfumes can have different affects on different skin types. It can be good, or bad. Babe Magnet might be good on other people, but by a slim shot." Her smile widened at her small joke. "But yeah. I guess I know a bit."

"No wonder you smell so good." Jimmie commented, almost flirtatiously. He nudged her by the shoulder, catching in her scent once again. "What do you use?"

"Nothing, just a cheap spray."

"Well, it's working."

Charmaine nodded in the awkward moment. "Jimmie, you said you wanted to talk to me about something. What was the something?" she shifted a bit in her bed.

Jimmie pressed his lips together for a brief moment. "…Oh, yeah! I wanted to talk about my name."

"Your name?" asked Charmaine, shocked. "You wanted to talk about your name? Just how important is it to talk about your name?"

"Actually, very important." Jimmie chided, looking at Charmaine's almost ashamed expression. "Really, it is. Remember when like, a long time ago, you said you wouldn't call me Rocket Man?" his friend nodded slowly, still not getting it. "Well, you said that you'd tell me that their was a story behind it. I wanna know it."

"Why?" Charmaine asked, her tone almost laced with offense. In truth, she only told Jimmie that their was a story behind not calling him Rocket Man so he'd be off her hair. In that case, it didn't work out, because he ended up still following her to Miss Darbus' room. But in fact, a story was behind it. Not exactly a good one, but it was a story.

Jimmie pulled out a pair of drumsticks from his pocket. They were plain wood, and they were worn, they've probably everywhere knowing Jimmie. He wouldn't be able to stand anything without a bit of noise nipping his ears. He began to play a beat on one of her dressers; he bobbed his head back and forth, into it. "I don't know. I just do. And knowing you," he smiled, careful not to look at Charmaine's desk so she wouldn't question anything. Of course he knew a story like hers would be really cool and in-depth. "You probably have a pretty juicy story."

Charmaine laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, right." She felt an odd pang in her body. She never felt like this before, since forever ago. Forever ago she was so happy, despite some faults in-between. Not to say she's wasn't happy now, but it almost seemed the past was better than the present. All the memories flooded in her head like a river sending sediment to the ocean. "Wow." She frowned, staring at space with glazed eyes.

"What is it?" Jimmie asked, stopping his beat with his drumsticks. He sat in a space on the floor, so he could look directly at Charmaine, who in turn, was staring at the floor, now replaced by Jimmie's lap. "Look up a bit."

The girl silently obeyed. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something. It was something important in my," she chewed on her cheek for a brief moment. "Story."

Jimmie put his hands in the air. "The floor is yours." Then he looked down, he was sitting on the multi-tan coloured carpet. "Well, I'm on the floor, but you know what I mean."

Charmaine smiled a bit, but she hissed a small puff of air, knowing the story was about to burst. She had to be collected about this, and not explode like a nuclear bomb. "As you know, there are three middle schools in this town. Mid-West, Central, and Mid-East middle school. Well, I went to Central." Jimmie nodded in acknowledgement. "There was a boy, we called him Shockey."

"Why?" asked Jimmie.

"Some say he met this athlete, whose name's Shockey, I didn't really get in-depth to know why his nickname's that." Charmaine replied hotly, mad that Jimmie had to interrupt. "Believe me, you couldn't not like him. He was an honour student, and he was a master at every freaking sport, even gymnastics." Jimmie stifled a laugh. "I'm serious. You could say, when he did back flips, so did my stomach." Charmaine's cheeks turned a peachy-red colour. "Okay, basically, I just told you I liked him."

Jimmie gave a half-smile; he never thought Charmaine would say something so personal to him. Well, something that was personal, yet giving off a sense of infatuation.

"Well, he and I weren't the best pairing. One day, he decided to play around and he stuffed all of my books in his locker, and left. In all honesty, I didn't like it. I got back at him by stuffing some tampons in his locker, after finding out his combination after numerous days stalking—watching him."

Jimmie laughed out loud, this time; Charamine didn't mind he disrupted her little story. "Are you serious?" He asked in-between chortles. "Nice! Way to put on the charm, Charms!"

"Well, the hits got more and more angry." Charmaine said, the vibe in the room suddenly changing. "We got distant, and I hated that. If we exchanged words, we yelled. The horrible part was—is, he lives across the street." She looked in the direction of her desk; Jimmie assumed that was the direction he lived in. "So, I got torment twenty-four seven."

"Beyond the street, is West High territory." Jimmie stated, keeping to the basics. "I think that's right. Anyone living there is a West High Knight."

"Yeah, I hate that. One day, our ties were cut. We don't speak anymore. I don't even bother just walking a few feet to say how it's going. It's killing." Charmine thought she should talk about this story with Elena tomorrow, the memories. "He's not Shockey to me anymore, he's just Sebastian Andrews."

"He's the West High basketball captain!" Jimmie exclaimed both in surprise and shock. "Him, really?"

"I guess," Charmaine mumbled. "I don't really keep up with West High affairs, since I don't go to that school, or talk to them… anymore." Charmaine bit her lip, small enough so Jimmie couldn't notice. "So, I won't call you Rocket Man because it makes me think, oh, I feel like I just told a story for no apparent reason." She buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. "No, Rocket Man just reminds me on how bad a relationship can change."

"How?" Jimmie asked. "I'm not… Shockey." he controlled his thoughts not to stick out his tounge when he had to say that name, he wasn't buddy-buddy enough to call him 'Shockey'. Calling him Andrews was perfectly fine. "Rocket Man and Shockey are two different names."

"I can't call Sebastian 'Shockey'. It just shows how much our relationship deteriorated, if I called you Rocket Man, what if something happens? And I won't be able to bear calling you a personal name like Rocket Man anymore." Charmaine retorted, her expression sullen.

"I'll tell you, nothing bad's gonna happen." Jimmie promised, getting up to sit on the bed. He rested his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "And I'm not even gonna say 'but if something does happen' because, it's not."

Charmaine heaved a breath a little too heavy, and let it out through her teeth. "If you say so." She didn't even want to argue with her friend, he was too much of a pep-talker to her, that she got used to it. And she appreciated it, she like how he cared for her.

Jimmie's face lit up. "So you'll call me Rocket Man?"

Charmaine shook her head vigorously. "Nope, never." She smiled when she watched her friend's face fall, and it only made him more confused seeing that she was smiling. "If you don't mind, I'd rather be one of the only people in school not to call you Rocket Man." She caved in, just this once. "Just for you, Rocket Man."

Jimmie found this unexpected and way too abrupt for his taste. He blushed. He didn't expect to find the way Charmaine said 'Rocket Man' to be so, lovely. The way it rolled off her tongue didn't sound like much of a tease like he would've thought, so Charmaine must have wanted him to savour the thought, he may never hear her call him 'Rocket Man' ever again.

A small 'bump' from upstairs jolted Charmaine's head to the ceiling in one swift turn. "My brother's awake. He'll never shut up if he sees you."

He hopped off the bed like it was a springboard, and clasped his hands together. "It's okay; I gotta go anyway, meeting Dion for some b-ball. But before I go," Jimmie checked the direction of Charmaine's desk, if he were to walk in that direction straight-on, he'd be in front of Sebastian Andrews house. "I'll take a peek at what the West High's basketball captain is doing." He started for the window, pushing it open as quietly and widely as he can. "Wish me luck,"

Charmaine gave a minuscule smile, it was enough to enhance Jimmie's ready-for-it grin ten-fold. "Luckier if you live to see the stare of Mister Andrews, vice-president of our township's school board." Jimmie mentally sent her something along the lines of 'Are you kidding me?' and swept outside, and closed the window quick, but gentle. She kept staring at the window; she didn't even lock it after a good fifteen minutes. She almost wished that he would come running back, laughing that he stole Sebastian's team jersey or something. She silently walked back to her desk, staring at their list: Ways I Can Think Happier Thoughts. Her brother's footsteps were getting closer and closer. She crossed out the 'I' on the title, revised, it read: Ways We Can Think Happier Thoughts.

Charmaine would have to wait until tomorrow to see him.