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Don't ask me to pronounce that, I have no idea.

Welcome back! A special addition for you guys, in which I attempt to narrate as a BOY. *insert gasp here*. Being a girl, I don't really know how guys think so…All you guys out there, if I am screwing it up, please please tell me! I really want to know how to write as a boy! It would be helpful later in life.

Thanks to nooneimportant2 for their review. I sent you a reply back, so I'm not going to address it all here, except that thanks for writing so much!

Anyway, here's your next chapter. Word picked from my dictionary.

I keep getting normal words. I wonder when that will change…

…

Cheerful

Matthew hummed to himself quietly as he opened his locker, as a girl narrowly avoided running into him and a boy tripped over his shoelaces, sending books flying everywhere. These things happened everyday and he had learned to ignore them. There were enough Good Samaritans in this school without adding himself to the mix.

It had been a few days since Serra transferred into the school, and since then she had been avoiding him like he was poison. In all the classes where they could choose their seats, she sat on the other side of the room as him, and in the one class (English) where they had to sit next to each other, she would merely turn her back and gossip to the girl sitting next to her (couldn't remember her name at the moment).

Not that it bothered him. He didn't particularly need or crave attention. In fact, the less people who knew him well the better.

Realizing that he'd just been staring into his locker like it contained all the answers he could ever need (and there were a lot) for the past minute or two, he quickly grabbed his books and slammed the door. Spinning on his heel without checking for an open path, he immediately crashed into a girl and sent both of them toppling to the ground. Karma was catching up with him for not helping that boy.

"Ouch…" the girl muttered, rubbing her head. It was only then Matthew realized who she was and fixed a bright smile on his face.

"Hey Serra," he greeted her, scooping up his books in one arm, standing up, and offering his free hand to her. She didn't take it and instead glared at him from the ground.

"That's it!? 'Hey, Serra' is all I get!? No, 'excuse me my lovely lady, are you alright? I'm terribly sorry for possibly inflicting some great harm upon your delicate self?'" she ranted, picking herself up without taking the offered hand. Matthew just grinned wider, so much so that it hurt his cheeks slightly, and he had to tone it down slightly.

"I'm not Sain, if you hadn't noticed," he joked. "For one, I'm better looking."

She looked up and seemed to freeze for a second, as if she was only just recognizing him. Then the slightly scared expression was gone as soon as it had come, and she seemed to be in great deliberation.

"I'm not so sure about that…" she mused. "Although, I must admit, no one is as good looking as I am."

Matthew suppressed rolling his eyes, just barely. He had to look down at the floor for a second to keep them from going up and around. It was a painful experience.

"Is that so?" he choked out, and she gave him a blinding grin, making him squint in pain. How much did she whiten her teeth? And her voice was back to that annoying squeal too. At first it had seemed almost…normal.

Yeah, right. Like Serra could be normal.

"Yep! My dad…my…My dad always says that I must be a goddess of beauty that he's been blessed with!" she chirped, and Matthew brought attention back to the conversation.

"What does your dad do?" he asked in honest curiosity. She seemed to be at a loss for a second, before something sparked in her eyes.

"He's a doctor; a good one too!" she exclaimed, her whole face coming alight. "His patients hardly ever die unless they've got some terrible incurable ailment. He's tired all the time though, so he can never spend much time with me, but I love him anyway! And…"

Matthew tuned out what she was saying, and just watched her face. He had never seen it happier in the few days he'd known her. It reminded him of how Leila talks…talked…about her family as well. She had loved them very much he knew.

"You love them a lot, don't you," he stated, cutting off her rambles. It was phrased as a question, but since he already knew the answer, there was a period at the end. Her breath caught, and she looked almost guilty for a second, like a little kid who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The silence went on for a few moments before she answered in a soft, shy voice.

"Yeah, I do."

And it was so painfully like Leila, that his good humor faded for a few seconds, and he could feel his smile slide off his face. Then, he shook his head to banish the thoughts, and gave her the realest smile he could come up with.

"Come on, we'll be late to science."

And he turned and walked up the stairs, her following behind.

…

Later, at lunch, he couldn't keep his attention focused. Hector was going on about something or another, but he only really caught bits and pieces. He just laughed when everyone else did, so that he would seem normal, and kept a smile on his face. The only one who noticed was Guy from across the lunchroom, and that was only a concerned glance that he waved away with a cheerful grin.

They didn't like to push him when he was delicate. They were too afraid he might finally break. To think a conversation with that annoying girl could make him spiral into this. It was kind of pathetic how far he had regressed from who he used to be.

All those therapists he'd been forced to see after she died had asked him the same question. Sure, they phrased it differently, but the underlying meaning was the same.

Are you sure you can be happy again?

And he'd said, yep, I'm fine, ask anyone, I bounce back quick. And they'd somehow bought it, hook, line, and sinker. Probably just because god forbid that anyone who might actually need real help walk into their office. They wouldn't know how to handle that, the poor people.

It hadn't been a completely lie. Not a lie at all, depending on your viewpoint. Matthew just happened to see happy and cheerful as two different concepts, making him believe it to be a lie. Because he wasn't happy. He was cheerful.

And when he got home that day and smiled at himself in the mirror, he knew that probably nobody else would ever see it that way. Everyone would just keep believing he was perfectly happy and over it.

And he'd keep that lie going. After all, being cheerful is good enough for anyone else besides himself. He still hadn't learned to lie to himself. But lying to other people was fine.

However, Serra might be a problem.

…

And…finished with today's! Man, doing this during the school week is HARD!!!! Not that I'm going to give up though. I will persevere.

However, if this is a little lacking in quality, I blame it on being pressed for time.

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