Hey. I know, I hate me, too. Like, why didn't update? I've been busy, but I realized that this story has been out for nine months and I made only 25 chapters. I don't know, but that seems really sad. So, I made this story my top priority for this rest of the school year (like two weeks) and some of the summer. I want it finished by June because I have another A&A story coming out and I think it'd be weird to have two at the same time. Then again, I think a lot of things are weird... Like my not updating! I'm so mad at myself and I've been waiting for them to get together and now that they have, it's like I forgot everything I wanted to happen. But I re-read some of the chapters and got my motivation back. So... I do hope you enjoy.

Being fourteen and being who I was, life didn't make sense to me at all. I didn't understand my parents or why it was so hot outside, which was weird because I was apparently, "a nerd". And I'm sure most nerds understand things like that.

"Ally. Get off that piano. Help me with these boxes." My mom told me.

I groaned and looked away from the precious black and white keys. "What are we doing with all of that stuff?" I asked her.

"This is your father's junk."

"You mean belongings?" I asked. My parents were always arguing about something and no matter how hard my mother tried to hide it, it looked like she was getting rid of his things.

She shrugged. "More or less. Now help me."

"Help you throw Dad out of the house? Did you run it by him that you were getting rid of his 'junk'?"

"No, and I shouldn't have to," she said. "I've hated all of this since you were born."

"And it's fourteen years later that you decide to throw it out?"

She glared at me. "You're a smart ass, you know that?"

I gave her a fake smile. "Fine. I'll help you." I said, reluctantly getting up.

My dad walked in looking like he just ran a mile, except he didn't seem out of breath. Just worn out and tired. And sweaty, but he was always like that.

"Is that my stuff?" he asked, pointing to the box Mom held. She nodded, keeping her lips pursed.

"You signed the papers." she said.

"What papers?" I asked.

"Ally, go outside. This is grown-up talk."

I wanted to stay inside because she told me to go outside, but I wanted to go outside because I did not want to hear them argue. Sighing, I got up and went outside. I sat on the porch and stared at the street for four minutes (which felt like four hours).

A blonde boy was skateboarding by with some other boys. That blonde boy was Austin Moon and some other popular boys in my grade. Leave it to them to skateboard by the biggest outcast's house.

I could hear my parents "disagreeing loudly" as they often put it. I buried my face in my hands. "Stop it." I mumbled, as if they could hear me.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Let's see, your face is buried in your hands and you look like you're about to cry. I just had to take a guess that things weren't okay."

I dropped my hands that hid my face to my lap and looked whoever this was in the eye. I could hear myself gasp at who it was. Austin Moon, much too my surprise. I would have thought that someone who took the time to notice me at least once would be the one to ask me if I was okay.

"Well, they're not."

He smiled. "What's your name?"

"Um, Ally."

"Well, Ally, I'm-"

"I know who you are." I cut him off.

"How? Do we go to the same school?"

"We only have since Kindergarten. You couldn't have forgotten the time you kicked my block tower. And spilled juice on me!"

"I don't have that kind of memory."

"Well, I do. It was apple juice and the straw was partially chewed on. Besides, what about that time in seventh grade when you stepped on the poster I made for the bake sale?"

He looked like he remembered that. It was less than a year ago. "That was an accident. I didn't see it!"

"Oh, sure." I said, trying to hide a smile. He was staring at me... like he liked what he was seeing. That made me both happy and unsure of what was wrong with his eyes.

"Why are you staring at me?" I asked suspiciously.

"What's wrong with staring at a beautiful girl?"

"Nothing besides the fact that she's not beautiful."

He gave me a look. "Not beautiful? Next you're going to say that Iowa is a state."

I looked around, not sure if he was being serious. "One, it is, and two, I wasn't going to say that."

"What?! I just bet five dollars it wasn't! I'll be back."

"I'll be right here." I said, sighing. He gave me one last smile before running off. I sat there for fifteen more minutes until going inside where my mom sat at a table and my dad on the stairs. I looked at them both before skipping up the stairs. It wasn't until about two hours that I remembered what he said.

I ran down the stairs and opened the front door. There was a orange sticky note written on somewhat neatly with a black Sharpie. It read:

So, Ally (That's your name, right?). I like your face. Did that sound creepy? This stupid small note won't let me write a lot and now I'm wasting more space writing this. Oh, well. Look at that. No space.

The back said:

Ha, in your face, stupid NOTE! Anyways, I think I'd like to get to know you better before it's too late.

No one else could have expected how much those words meant to me.

That note was probably shoved in some confined space, in a place far from here. I didn't know why at the time, but I kept things like that. I thought I'd want them later. Now, I think it was just because it looked like a boy liked me. At the time (and now), that would never happen. I just wanted to remember it. I collected a lot of things, which I felt grateful for after my parents died, but about four months after, I put all of the pictures and memories into a box and put the box into a closet. I don't even know what house that closet was in. I know that I never went into that house again.

"Ally." It was at this point that I realized it was four in the afternoon and therefore, not normal to daydream or be in deep thought. I look up at him. "Yeah?"

"It's not normal to daydream in midday, you know?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm aware."

"Well-"

I cut him off, "Do you remember how we met?"

"What?"

"How we met—do you remember?"

"Should I lie and say yes?"

I glared at him. "What? There was nine years of school together and then barely three months..." He was figuring it out, adding it up.

"I think," I said and took a sharp breath. "I think it was three years ago?"

"Nope," he told me. "We were six and it was Kindergarten. We told each other our names and then I kicked your block castle down."

"Yeah, I still don't know why you did that. And it was a tower; not a castle."

He shrugged. "How come that was the only time we talked until, like, eight years later?" I asked.

"I don't know." Okay. "Oh, and it's because I was six! Six year olds do stuff like that for no reason." He said, about the tower.

"And what about seventeen year olds?"

"Seventeen year olds are much, much, much stupider than six year olds. But at least seventeen year olds make better choices."

"That's the thing. In life, you have choices and that's all anyone's ever wanted—to decide something in their life. I never got that option and now that I do, I don't know what to do with it. It's like, I was a caged bird for so long and I forgot how to fly. Except I never actually have before."

He smiled. "I can teach you."

I smiled back. "I'd like that."

I suck, suck, suck, suck, SUCK, I know. I wish it was longer, but I know what I want for this story, so the next four chapters will be about this length because there will be a BIG, IMPORTANT chapter coming soon. Not so important, but it will have an impact on the rest of the story until the last couple of chapters. So, bye, and I am so sorry for not updating. I grant you the wish to yell at me (or use CAPS because I won't be able to hear you!) But anyways, could you review and tell me what you think? This isn't my favorite chapter, but it was pretty sweet...