I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever! I'm so glad to be home (a lot gladder than I thought I would be) and back to my writing (duhh). So here we go!

"Sam! Freddie! Look, the poster's up!" I squeal, slamming my locker shut. They both look up from their copies of To Kill A Mockingbird and follow my finger to the massive blow-up of the eTeen Awards poster that Principal Franklin insisted on hanging up. He was so proud to hear that three of his most promising students had recieved such an honor of hosting an awards show (and four nominations this year).

"Wow. Cool chiz," Sam says. Freddie glances over, mutters something, and goes back to reading. I slide down the row of lockers and sit down next to him.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. He peels another sticky note off of his pad and slaps it on the page he's reading.

"I'm fine."

"Oh. Okay then," I say, even though I can sense something is wrong. After all, I've been his best friend for years. I can tell something is wrong with him. Maybe his mom made him take a tick bath last night and he's still pissed off about it. Before I can say anymore to him, the bell rings. Freddie grabs his backpack in an instant and stands up.

"I've gotta get to pre-calc. See you guys later." His messy mop of hair dissappears into the crowd. I gather up all my stuff and stand up, as does Sam. Suddenly, a girl I regonize from my History class approches the two of us. "Hey Carly. Hey Sam," she says, "Nice poster. How much they pay you to do that, Sam?" We both look back over to the poster; its definetly the cheekiest of all the shots we took: Freddie in the middle, Sam and I each giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Ehh, it's all part of the work. After all, who wouldn't want to kiss Freddie Benson?" Sam shoots back, her voice oozing with sarcasm. The girl looks taken aback and walks away without another word.

"You couldn't have been nice to her?" I ask as we climb the stairs to the second floor. If we don't pick up the pace, we're going to be late for French class. Sam shrugs.

"I don't like it when people assume things."

"Yeah, I know. Oh, and did anything seem weird with Freddie today? He seemed sorta . . . upset."

"I thought he was fine. Why?"

"I dunno. He just was kind of distant with me," I reply, taking my French binder out of my tote bag.

"Freddie's fine. Stop worrying," Sam reassures me. Even though I don't believe her, I shut up. Our teacher then begins to babble on (en Francais) about the imperfect tense and I attempt to figure out what she's saying while taking down notes. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam reach down and take out her phone. She silently turns it on. She waits for it to load. She selects contacts. She picks Freddie's name out of the list. She texts him.

I can read the text from here.

Oh my God.

I think I might faint.

Oooooh . . . so what did it say? I'm gonna be mean. I'm not going to tell you! Teehee. But please review! The faster you review, the faster I'll reupdate ;)

xo, Chantal