A/N: I haven't been feeling very well lately. Heads all jumbled up and light and fuzzy. I can't concentrate properly and I keep feeling like I should sleep more. I hope I get well enough soon to finish fics, start new ones and even draw a little maybe. Anyway, enjoy.

FASTFORWARD.

I didn't see him for two more days. Most of my time was spent either in my kitchen preparing costumes for Halloween or in the third floor boy's bathroom. I hardly walked into class and when I did, it was always at least twenty minutes late and everyone inside stared in silence as I sat down in my seat. The teacher would glare, stare for a bit longer to see if I was pulling some joke and continue on with the lesson. I listened to those lessons just about as much as I attended them.

For the first time in the longest time, I decided to go to English class. If anyone had asked, I would deny that I actually wanted to go. I would have told them another truth to hide the real one; ran out of cigarettes and I got tired staring at the same four walls and seven stalls. So, before the tardy bell rang, I ran into class and sat down in the back, grinning at the sight of all the empty desks. I was the first one there. No staring, no silence caused by people. No awkwardness that made me feel more horrible than I had already.

By the time the bell rang, I had filled up two whole pages in my notebook of doodles that reminded me of my tattoos. That's when I saw him. Still curled up in on himself as if he was a turtle trying to crawl into his shell, his glasses still hanging off the tip of his nose. His hair looked messy as if someone had been playing with it for a while and his head was down so not a soul could see his face. He scrambled through the line of desks and sat in front of mine, placing his bag on the ground. I just sort of stared at him at first. Mostly the back of his head but I noticed how he would twirl his pencil between his fingers as he listened to the teacher ramble on about some dead man who once wrote plays that, from what I heard, were completely amazing. One of them, Romeo and Juliet, was the subject of today's debate. Last time I was in English class was about Freshmen year. Currently, I'm a Junior. And every English class goes about the same routine; talk about a subject, pick a topic and debate.

As the teacher began talking more about what exactly from the play we should debate, the brunet in front of me started writing things down, his head bobbing up to look at the bored then back down to copy what was written. Strange. Left handed. I've never seen someone write left handed before.

A few times, he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing it to relax his face. And as people around the class began talking about the ridiculous idea of love at first sight, he turned his head. Now I know why he kept his head down as he passed through the class. He didn't want the teacher to see his black eye. It can't be hurting that much now but it still looked red around some areas and clearly needed an ice pack.

"Henry?" The teacher asked as he tapped the eraser of his pencil against his chin. Shit. He saw me. Fuck, he's looking right at me. Oh, phew, he went back to the brunet. "You seem rather quiet. Usually, you're all over the debate."

"Yeah, sorry, sir." His voice wavered. He was nervous no doubt. "Um…I don't think it's possible." The hiccup shifted in his seat, leaning over his desk with his arms stretched out.

Mr. Black, our teacher, raised his eyebrows at the words. "You don't think that love at first sight is possible? Explain."

The five girls that sat in the class all turned to him. Even though I was mostly focused on Henry's pencil twirling talent, I did hear them all try to back up the completely false notion that you could fall in love just by looking at some handsome football player's face. They were the only ones to debate unfortunately.

"I don't think it's possible because when you first see someone attractive, you're not feeling love at first sight. You're feeling lust." Henry tried to explain, sitting up a bit. "Sometimes, you don't even feel that. Time, though, that's what causes love. Spending time with that person or with any person changes your view of them. Some ugly things come in pretty packages."

The teacher nodded and smiled in approval. I even smiled in approval. Finally, someone put it into proper words! I felt like clapping almost but I settled for tapping my foot against the strange linoleum floor that was pretty generic for schools. I even felt like tapping him on the shoulder and giving him a 'fuck yeah', but that would cause for people to turn heads. So for the rest of that class, I smirked and smiled and grinned, staring at the back of Henry's head. Every few minutes he would turn his head, seeming to look at the clock, but I knew he was looking to see if I was still staring at him. And I was. Kid impressed me. And I'm not one that is easily impressed.

I stood next to him when the bell rang and ducked my head as we all piled out of the class and into the hallway. Thankfully, Mr. Black didn't see me. But Henry sure did. He glanced at me with a scared light to his glaring eyes and turned, walking away at a faster pace. It wasn't long after I turned a corner that he blended into the uniformed group of rich teenagers. I shrugged and continued on my way to the third floor boy's bathroom. Even though I was completely out of cigarettes, I couldn't really stop myself. It was like standing up from the table to put something down in the kitchen but you end up in your own bedroom instead; plate full of nasty bones and sweet tasting cob without the corn.

Once I was there, though, I wasn't sure what to do. I threw my bag down by the window I usually sat at and stared outside. It wasn't raining but it wasn't exactly sunny and bright. It was a lot like the sky was painted over in light gray. Or silver. Either way, it was more depressing than New England usually is and instead of staring outside, I decided to take out a pen and draw on my arms. With the cap of the pen in my mouth for me to chew, I drew a rose on the inside of my forearm. With all the tattoos I have, my sister always asked me why I didn't get a pretty one. Sure, I had a few snowflakes here and there, but she always bothered me on why I didn't have one of a princess or one of a rose. So most of the rest of the day was dedicated to her overly expressed need for something pretty to be drawn on my skin. The only time I realized how late it was getting was when I heard football players chanting after the last bell, being mixed with the laughter and chatter of the regular students.

I sighed, took the cap of my pen out of my mouth and tossed both pieces into my bag, zipping it up as I hopped off the window sill. The door to the bathroom opened and in stumbled a cheerleader and Henry. The girl groaned, making that frustrated girl sound that most prep girls do, making her sound like a growling Chihuahua. Flipping her braid over her shoulder and picking up her pomp-pomps, she stormed out of the bathroom and back into the hallway.

Henry groaned as well, but more like he was upset that his books and papers fell onto the floor. He muttered a 'great, just great' before he pushed his glasses up his nose and started gathering his things.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "We always seem to meet like this." I said and handed him a book.

"Yeah…I guess." He spoke much firmer, his timid nature not there like usual. "Do you always hang around in bathrooms?" As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes became wide like he had just made a grave mistake. Like his death was happening in front of him.

"Just this one." I shrugged and smiled slightly. "Hey, your speech in class was pretty fucking impressive. Usually people stand up for true love at first sight. But finally someone understands!"

He was tense. Completely. I could feel how tense he was as we stood up and I handed him the last book. He shrugged and nodded, glancing up at me before looking back down and straightening everything in his arms. "Well, it's the truth." He whispered and walked away.

Of course, I followed after him, but it was pretty useless trying to find him in a hallway full of people wearing the same thing and most have the same color hair. So instead of running around, turning shoulders at every person with brown hair, I made my way down the stairs and to the front doors. To my surprise, there sat my sister on one of the benches dedicated to students that lost their lives over the years due to car crashes or murder.

She was running her fingers over one of the gold plaques and mouthed out the name. From a few feet away, I could just make out the name 'Jennifer Keys'. Most of them said the same thing; name, birth and death days, and then a 'loving student to all'. I never understood why they wrote that on most of them even though it might not be true. Whenever I looked the names up in old yearbooks or in the trophy cases, they were always with the higher class kids. They never really seemed to go to the other students that sat in the back. I knew one that died in a car crash due to him being drunk during Freshmen year. On the one closest to the doors, his plaque reads 'a big brother to all'. He only talked to Team Captains. Soccer, football, and hockey. All in all, he was more loved by the teachers than he was by anyone else. His basketball team liked him okay, and they even placed a basketball each by his casket but he wasn't everyone's big brother. He certainly wasn't mine every time he pushed me in the halls.

"So…" I started, placing my hands on my hips. "What are you doing here, little lady?"

My sister, Emma, jumped and gasped, clutching her Spiderman backpack to her chest before she glared at me. "I got sent home but I decided to wait for you to come out."

"You got sent home?" She was usually an angel wherever she went. But she was also a superhero when she saw something she knew she could stop. "What happened?"

Emma shrugged, looking down as she played with the flickering lights in Spiderman's head, flicking at it to make it never stop. "Some boys were just being real jerks…some girls, too. They were saying things about you I didn't like. So…I tried to defend you."

"Em…" I sighed. This was the third time this year. "You need to stop doing that. Just go to a teacher like I told you."

"I tried, but they don't listen to me!" She looked at me desperately. "They just tell me not to get into fights and then send me home!"

Another sigh and a groan. We were silent for a while as I rubbed the sides of my head and she continued to flick her Spiderman backpack. I remember our mother getting it for her. She had begged and begged for it ever since I brought her to see the movies. Our mom tried to convince her to go with a rainbow backpack but she had to remind her that rainbows don't 'kick butt and save the day'.

After a while, I began staring at the flashing lights in Spiderman's head then at her face to see her pouting frown. I smiled. "Did you at least win?"

Her lips curled into a smile and she looked up at me. "I kicked those boy's butts pretty hard."

"Well, if you're gonna kick butt, you might as well win." I shrugged and grinned at the sight of her beaming face.

The walk home was filled with talk of Halloween and costumes. And even at times, we would try to play hopscotch with the broken sidewalks. Emma would try to hold my sleeve back so that I would trip or that I'd miss so she could win, but I'd end up pulling her along with me. She laughed and laughed, skipping along beside me. A couple of times, she reached my height and I would ruffle her hair or tap her nose. She would try and ruffle my hair as well, trying to fix her own at the same time. Of course she never made it to my own head seeing as I always ducked out of the way. She smiled and laughed, pushing me softly and telling me that I was cheating at a game I never knew we were playing in the first place.

When we actually got home, things were different. Things were quiet save for my dad's ranting and raving on his live video game in his room. Mom was in the kitchen, quietly making dinner as not to disturb him. Emma ran in, placed a soft kiss on our mom's cheek and ran upstairs to go to her room.

I smiled and closed my dad's bedroom door, stepping closer to the stove. "Hey, mom. How was home?"'

"Oh, same as everyday." She smiled and turned to me. My mom always had her brown hair up in a lazy bun; hairs spewing every which way. Every time I saw it, it reminded me that she works really hard everyday to keep all of us happy. "How was school, sweetie?"

I shrugged. "It was alright." The stew on the stove began to boil and mom started stirring it with her favorite wooden spoon, pushing the steam toward her face so she could smell. "Talked to some nerd today."

PAUSE.

Ever since I was little, it was hard for me to keep friends. I wasn't allowed to bring kids over to my house because my dad got angry about me being too loud with them, I wasn't allowed to go to other kid's houses because my dad got angry about me leaving the house, and most kids parents had heard about me and labeled me a 'bad influence on their kids'. Every once in a while, I'd get one kid to play with me on the playground. Once I had a sort of friend that I kept for almost two weeks. She taught me how to do pull ups on the monkey bars and raced me up slides and then back down. Of course, she stuffed her shoes with rocks and tied them to her feet real fast when she got to the top so I mostly lost. It wasn't long before her parents deemed me a 'demon child' and kept her away from me as much as possible.

By the time I was eight, Emma was born. At first, I thought it was nice; a friend for me to play with and nobody would take her away from me. I was sadly mistaken. My parents had her most of the time and I stayed awake, listening to my father screaming, my mother pleading, and my sister crying. At times, I would cry too. Then there were times I would be beating my pillow in because it was just a horrible thing that my sweet baby sister had to be in the middle of.

When she started to grow up and was able to understand what I was saying, it got a bit better. I played with her and showed her how to do certain things, teaching her how to walk and talk. I finally had a friend and I continued to ignore my mother asking me, begging me, even pushing me to make new friends. Time and time again, I would tell her I couldn't and I would tell her the reasons. She would never buy it and would still go on about how badly I need to hang out with people my age.

As I look at her now and see a smile slowly bloom on her face, I wonder if telling her was the best or worst thing I could do…

A/N: I turned 20 a few days ago...I feel so old... - ADAM

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