Arya Moreno POV
I swear my heart felt it before I turned the corner. Dumott wrapped around another blond tramp. I recognized her immediately. Nausicaa Andrews, the worst part: she was nice. I turned to go quietly, but they saw me and quickly untangled. "Sorry," I said, blushing furiously.
"No, It's our own fault," He said. I glanced back at him desperately, before turning the corner again. Can't you see I'm in love with you? I wanted to ask. But I knew the answer. Dead no. I was pathetic. Dumott Schunard was rich, spontaneous, and breathtakingly gorgeous. He didn't know I loved him. Hell, he didn't know me. Ayra Moreno, a scared and quiet girl of sixteen.
I quickly readjusted my pale pink dress and sped off. I'd have to take the long way to avoid him. And turning back was not an option.
Dumott Schunard POV
It was awkward standing between Nausicaa and the girl in the pink dress. All I remember thinking is that she was pretty: really pretty. I struggled to remember her name for a second, but gave up quickly. There are a lot of pretty girls, I thought, and forgot all about her. We met formally that afternoon. But first they reaped my name-
"Dumott Schunard." I walked, hands shaking onto the stage. I looked down at the crowd, swallowed my fear and smiled. I pretended it was some kind surprise. Then they called the girls name-
"Aveline Yaxford." Suddenly the girl from the alleyway appeared: the one in the pink dress. Her names Aveline? I thought. Wait , that's not Aveline. She has blonde hair, not black-
"I volunteer," called the girl in the pink dress as she rushed to the stage. She mounted the platform next to me, and gasped for breath. She smiled through tears.
"Hey," I said in a winning style. "What's you name?" She squeaked and vied away from me. I frowned slightly.
Arya Moreno POV
He didn't know my name. I'd just volunteered to save him and Dumott Schunard didn't know my name. Part of me wanted to collapse on the floor, but part of me smiled. Just another girl, I thought. I could be just another girl. I didn't regret volunteering, not for a second. I knew the real Dumott: the one who slipped spare change into the Orphan Box, and sang when he thought he was alone. I knew he deserved to live. So I turned to face him, and smiled right back.
This is probably my shortest chapter. How about this? If I get enough reviews I'll post district nine tonight! I'm going to finish them by next monday, pinky-promise.
