AN: I'm back, yay! Now on with the story...

Chapter 1: Crayons

My fingers finally rest on a picture, and I smile. It's the memory of when we first met. Fletcher's chestnut brown hair was more of a golden blonde, and his skin slightly lighter than it is now. In the photo, Fletcher is glaring at towards the front with a paintbrush in his hand, leaving a small red line of paint on his left arm.

It was my first day at the A.N.T Farm. Boy oh boy, was I frightened! I walked through the doors, hearing rustling of backpacks as high heels 'clicked' and 'clacked' against the light blue floors. I took a deep breath, and gulped as my mother gently nudged me forward.

"You'll do great," her warm voice whispered

I turn to look at her. Unlike me, my mother had dark hair, and was always pulled into a neat bun and a black headband. Her eyes however, were the same shade of blue, right down to the small grey scattered specks. I heard chattering as I made my way further down. I caught one word in particular.

"Ant."

"I think they're talking about me," I confided with a shaking voice.

"Jealousy. That you're a prodigy, and they aren't," my mother assured me.

Her voice was strong, and her head held high. I aspired to be like this loving woman. I straightened my back and aim my chin to be parallel to the floor. We finally reach a red door with a small rectangle door approximately 11 inches above the doorknob. It was open, revealing a large room filled with objects of all hobbies and skills. I walked into the room and couldn't fight back a gasp. I admit, I was in awe. A man with dark curly hair was currently talking to a little boy with light brown hair, a woman with a similar shade of hair behind him.

"And you must be Olive!" He exclaimed as he saw me enter the room with my mother.

"The other new Ant?" The boy squeaked as he looked at me.

He was wearing a blue graphic t-shirt and denim jeans, his shoes were also a light blue.

"Olive, this is Fletcher, who is also starting today."

I never would've guessed that this "Fletcher" would be so important to me.

It was later that I realised that I might be stuck with him. This "Fletcher" and I didn't get along. We were given time to work on our talents, and I let myself lounge on the red plush couch reading a text-book about the Great War. When I fully relaxed myself into the seat, letting my posture lack in grace, my feet were unable to reach the floor. To keep the idle limbs occupied, my legs swung back and forth at about 80 beats per minute. My floral patterned flats thumping against the lounge chair every now and then. I heard a clatter and sounds of rolling wood, my snapped at to observe the scene. The new boy, Fletcher, was scrambling around picking up paint brushes, and dropping them with a 'clank' into a black can. Fletcher looked up and caught my staring, I looked down as I saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"I'm kinda clumsy," he chuckled awkwardly as he scratched the back of neck.

I give one swift nod, and hoped he took it as a gesture of understanding. I look back at the paint brushes, and the painting. The painting was of an empty A.N.T Farm. I just had to say something, anything.

"Interesting factoid about paint brushes; they were invented in the year 3000 B.C by Meng Tian. Meng Tian was a general," the words tumbled out of my mouth as Fletcher picked up a paintbrush from his can.

"So, your talent is... blabbering?" He asked with a comically tilted head.

"Nope," I stated, popping the 'p.'

"I have an eidectic memory, everything I've ever seen, heard, or read, is perfectly recorded into my brain," I announced proudly.

He just nodded his head slowly before turning back to his painting.

I furrowed my eyebrows before returning to my book.

"So your talent is art?" I asked him as my eyes continued to scan the words on the book pages.

"Yeah," Fletcher half-heartily answered me.

I found myself frowning again.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"Do you ever be quiet?" He groaned.

"Your grammar is appalling," I told him with a scrunched nose.

"You've been talking all day!" He whined.

I frowned, but before I could retort, he continued.

"Blah blah blah, blah blah," he practically droned as he gestured his hands to make it look like they're talking.

"Well, you're rude."

Seriously Olive? That was the BEST you could think of? I shake my head, going back to my memory.

He just frowned at me.

"And you're annoying," he grumbled.

"So are you!" I yelled.

He turned around and away from his painting. He folded his arms, the paintbrush drawing a small red line on his left arm as he did so. I stood up, stomping my foot as I took a step towards him. Before anything could get messy, the bell rang. We both packed up our things and walked out the door in silence, sending (what we thought were) subtle glares at one another on our way to 5th period.

I giggle quietly, and remember being confronted by Svetlana about my glares to Fletcher. I shake my head, that was another memory for another time. I flick the torch off, hearing the small 'click' and rustling of Chyna's blankets. Thank gosh she was my only room mate. I set it down on my bedside, Chyna tossing again as the plastic hit the wood. I almost hiss, before remembering not to make a sound. I then settle myself into a comfortable position, and slowly drift off into a nice dream.

AN: This chapter was originally longer, but I got too annoyed after it was accidentally deleted without being saved, twice. That, and the fact that the 'w' key doesn't work properly, got really annoying. I'll hopefully have the next one up by tomorrow night around 10pm (AEST).