-------- Thanks for the supportive reviews! I promised a long chapter, and I hope this one is…what's long on Microsoft Word is never long on fanfiction! Grr!  Anyway, here's chapter seven! -------

I tap my pencil against the side of my English binder. I look up at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. Ugh! While math is too hard, English is too easy. It makes it tedious, it really does. I prefer history and geography – used to, at least. Before Mr. Kane and Max. Because who would have though? As I found out yesterday, I have the exact same class for history. Giving me the exact same seating plan.

Blah.

I look down at my sheet. It's on possessive nouns. The same sheet I've been filling in since third grade. When do we get to write stories? When do we get to work in groups? Why do we have to do this boring, boring, boring sheet. I've already finished it. I finished it six minutes and twenty-three seconds ago. Oh, wait. Twenty-four seconds ago…twenty-five…twenty-six…

I go cross-eyed and then look around the class (eyes back to normal). Can these people seriously not be done? Truly! I swivel back around, and Ms. Dumphrey catches my eye. "Your book." She mouths. I bite my cheek to stop from rolling my eyes. I don't want to read. I'm not the type of person who really enjoys reading – not unless the book is really good and well thought out. And it's hard to come by ones like those. Actually, I didn't even want to read Twilight. Kennedy and Jayden kind of made me. Sure, I'm glad I did, but when people are going on and on about how brainless it is – well, I can relate. I really can.

I look at the book laying on my desk now. Ms. Dumphrey declared that we couldn't bring books into her class if we had already read them. Meaning, no Host or Eclipse for me. Drat. Instead, I'm stuck with page after page of stupidity. One I grabbed right off the shelf in my sister's room. Making it guaranteed to be horrible.

The Clique. (A/N I actually enjoy The Clique series, although they are rather mindless)

I lay my hand on top of it, wondering if I should actually attempt it or if it would rob me of the only brain I have. I pick it up, read the first word. Then I sigh. This just isn't going to work. And the reason has nothing to do with Massie and Bean.

It has to do with the moron who is flinging papers at my head.

I whirl around angrily, a spot the person who is throwing the notes. I narrow my eyes. He grins. What the hell is he doing? Stalking me? That's three classes now – and homeroom! And the funny thing is, I could have sworn he wasn't in my English class for the past days. It's like he just ended up in here now.

That's impossible, I tell myself, You're paranoid. But am I? What if…what if…what if Max does posses some sort of Edward Cullen ability? That's it. The last straw, Niomi. SHUT UP! I grimace. Since when do I talk to myself? Max looks straight back at me. "Read them." He mouths. I shake my head vigorously and turn around – immersing myself in designer clothes and spoiled brats.

Another note flies past my head, skims my ear, and hits the book open in front of me. It's scrunched up in a ball, but I can read the first word.

Niomi. In his handwriting my name looks different. It has a whole different air to it. As though it belongs to some exotic princess or posh celebrity. Someone important. Someone different. Someone who isn't…well…me.

Irritably, I un-crumple the paper and start to read. Niomi, I scan my name again, Don't ignore me!!! Another analysis: You're finished your work. And stealing books from a ditz.

I smile tugs at my lips. I shake my head once and swiftly; to clear it. Then I begin to read again.

Soon another note lands on my desk. I open that, too. You're bored. Stop trying to be prefect. No one's perfect. Have some fun! What does Max know? Why does Max care? Edward's perfect. He's someone. I grin. A perfect reply. I write and then I throw.

I don't watch to see if Max catches it, but he must, because I receive another note. Edward's fictional. I look around, over the top of my sister's book. Ms. Dumphrey hasn't noticed. How hasn't she noticed? How come we haven't been caught? Quick! Quick! I urge myself and begin to scribble.

Max, you're going to get me in trouble. Cut it out! I toss it over my shoulder. Now another balled-up note comes. It hits my knuckle, skids across my desk, and lands on the floor. But not without hitting Ms. Dumphrey's toe first. She looks down at it strictly, and then up at Max and I. We're not the only ones not doing our work, because some of the class has begun to catch on to the excitement. However, we must both look sheepish. "No note passing in my class." She says, scooping up the paper wad and ditching it in the recycling.

Suddenly the bell rings. I grin. Freedom! I hand Ms. Dumphrey my paper, and as I do, Max is beside me.

"What class is next?" he asks. "Lunch." I mutter. "Right. 'Course." He mutters back. I look up at him, "What is it? No one to eat with?" I taunt, "Sorry, but my table's full."

"Ha ha. Very funny." He replies. We're walking beside one another, taking the long way to get to our lockers.

"Hey, I have a question for you." I decide. "Oh? Another one? You never run out, do you." He teases. "Not yet!" I grin and then inquire, "So, what did the note say? The one Ms. Dumphrey caught?"

Max turns red. He's uncomfortable, all of a sudden. "Nothing important." He denies. I look at him skeptically. "Yeah right. Why are you so uneasy all of a sudden?" I pester. "'M not uneasy." He denies again. "I think you are." I challenge. "If you want to be a profiler or whatever, you tell me what you think the note said." Max raises an eyebrow. Now it's my turn to blush. This is a great leap. A big risk. But I hold my head high, "I think you asked me out." I nod firmly.

"Oh?" Max shrugs, "And if that's what it did say, oh smart one?" he wants to know. Oh my god I'm dumb. I just cornered myself. What am I supposed to say now? Aren't I supposed to hate Max? But I don't!

I shrug, shove my books in my locker, and scurry away.