His sister had come out of Ms. Laboreli's company just in time to see her brother's unexpected exit. She scanned the group of confused seniors nearest to me. A look of confusion and worry flashed across her face before it was replaced by the same one of indifferent hostility I'd seen before. Then she too was gone; she'd followed her brother out the doors.

I debated running after and catching up to the girl and demanding to know just why her brother had run out in a horror-stricken cloud of panic as he had. I couldn't get over the feeling that it had had something to do with me. But that concept was utterly preposterous. I was probably overreacting. Maybe he'd suddenly felt sick. Maybe he'd just remembered something incredibly important that demanded his immediate attention. Who knew? It couldn't possibly be because of me. I didn't even know him.

Regardless of the cause, why did I care so much? I never care what people think of me. So why did I feel personally insulted?

I watched the gym doors swing shut after the girl's exit. It was probably my imagination, but I could have sworn the doors had a sort of air of finality about them as they swung shut at an abnormally slow speed.

Having both of the ineffable people out of the gym made the last fifteen minutes seem incredibly surreal; I almost expected to wake up at any moment from this weird dream.

I must have imagined the entire episode. I mean, how could two people possibly look that good? That was it; they simply couldn't. I must have at least exaggerated that part in my memory, if not all of it. Maybe none of it had happened at all and I was just losing my mind - or was unknowingly on something.

I couldn't help but notice the panic that threatened to brew in my heart as these thoughts of finality and authenticity invaded my brain. And that scared me. I'd said one word to the guy - Hell, I wasn't even sure if I'd said one word to the guy - and he was having this effect on me?

I couldn't stop thinking about him. All day, his face was predominant in my mind. I kept hoping to see him in another class - to obtain some form of proof that I hadn't contrived the whole thing - but my hope was wasted. I found myself mentally running over what I had thought was my time with him again and again. I couldn't help but see his horror-stricken face everywhere.

I was pathetic.

I went through the rest of the day like a zombie - I barely realized when we switched classes and it wasn't until the end of the day that I finally realized - thus, getting my proof - that the entire school was and had been talking about this morning's proceedings and - of course - wanted to know what I'd said to make him leave like he had. Apparently I'd been ignoring them all day. So now I just told them all the truth: that I'd only said hello and had no idea why he'd run out.

Elma High School in Elma, Washington (about an hour from Seattle) has a total of about 500 kids. So it's not the biggest school, but it's not outrageously small either. You pretty much know all of your classmates and some of the other class's. Anyway, my point is that when I say everyone was talking about gym and the Blacks, I mean everyone. So not only could I not get away from him in my head, but I couldn't get away from him outside my head either. Brianee and Nichole weren't the only ones who couldn't utter a single sentence that wasn't Matthew Black-related. It was incredibly frustrating. I wanted to scream. Why was I so obsessed and drawn to him? It made no sense. I didn't know him. I didn't know him.

I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!

I made myself repeat that over and over all day until finally - finally! - the tedious time period was over and I could leave the accursed building that was Elma High School!

At home I was no longer subject to the talk of my fellow inmates, but being home meant I was totally alone which in turn meant that I had more time to think about Him. My friends must have caught onto my mood that day because I didn't receive a single call or text to distract me. I had to resort to doing homework and then watching educational television in order to force my brain to think of other things.

They helped, but not much. Sleep was a relief; luckily I never remember my dreams.

Matthew Black was not in school on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday, or Friday! Each day was no better than its predecessors; sure, the talk about him lessened considerably, but I remained just as obsessed, just as tortured. Was it possible that I was the reason he wasn't there? But no, that couldn't be. I was being stupid. He must have just suddenly felt sick... very sick, to be gone a week.

I found out on Tuesday that I was in four other classes with Lorraine Black, but I hadn't had the courage to approach her yet. It was weird; I'd never felt shy or weird about approaching anyone before. It was just that she seemed so hostile. And her eyes were too invading for me - in fact, if I was being totally honest, I'd say that she kind of scared me.

Finally, in Chemistry on Friday, I ditched my former lab partner and plopped down in the empty seat next to Lorraine - the only empty seat in the classroom.

"Hey," I greeted her.

She didn't look up, but grunted dispiritedly in acknowledgment. I took that as an encouraging sign.

Though every guy in school agreed that Lorraine was - hands-down - the hottest girl in school, nobody had really gone up and talked to her. The few boys that were brave - or arrogant - enough to ignore her animosity were either taken or quickly discouraged by the then murderous glares and lack of positive response she gave each one of them.

I wondered why she didn't like any of them. She was probably just really stuck-up and thought she was way too good for them.

Admittedly, she was too good-looking for all of them; even the one's I'd considered hot before looked stupid next to her.

Maybe she had a boyfriend.

At any rate, I was only hoping that she'd tell me where her brother was; I wasn't asking her on a date. Maybe she'd have a more open response to that. Yeah. Right.

I opened my mouth but before I could speak, she whipped her head up and around to meet my eye.

"I'm not telling you anything about my brother," she said matter-of-factly, her voice dripping in cynicism and scorn.

"W-what?" I asked, taken aback. She rolled her eyes.

"Do I really look like I'm an idiot? The only reason any girl has talked to me is because they want to know where Matt is. And why he left." Her face reeked of contempt and condescension.

"That's not why I sat by you," I quickly lied. She smirked.

"I just wanted to say 'hi'."

"Sure you did," she scorned, "I'm not stupid. And you are a terrible liar."

That hurt. I'd always prided myself on my acting and lying abilities.

"Why are you so sure I'm lying?" I challenged.

"It's written across your face." But I knew that it didn't show at all on my face, that my expression hadn't changed. I raised an eyebrow.

"No it's not. And I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are. Just admit it. And then tell me why you think I should tell you about him."

"First of all, I'm not going to admit it because it's not true. And secondly, if I had wanted to know about him... I think I have a right to know, as I'm the one he was talking to when he rushed out."

"Ah, yes. Well, I think that that is the stupidest reason I've ever heard and I really hope you aren't dense enough to believe that that little comment of yours didn't give away your little facade and confirm what I already knew." Her voice was smug and snotty. Her gaze shifted back to the book on her desk and she let her hair fall over her shoulder, creating an ebony wall between us.

I knew that I had given myself away. But I really didn't care. I was intrigued by easily she saw through me, and I hated that she made me feel so - unoriginal. Like I was just one of many, many people and that my thoughts didn't matter, my life didn't matter. Because I was just one of millions exactly like me. Of course, I knew that to an extent, it was true. I also knew that the vast majority of the world really didn't care about me. But still, it bothered me that she felt the desire to point it out.

I wondered what made her so cynical and unfriendly. Most people in the world wanted friends, but she seemed to want enemies. And she was always glaring around her like she hated the world and everything in it...

I hoped she'd get over that. The world was such a beautiful place - I wished she'd see that. I know it's dumb, but every time someone thought of the world or things that I admired in a negative manner, it bugged me. One of my faults, I guess. I just really want people to see my side, to feel what I feel. I know; stupid. But maybe if she could see -

"You are a strange one," she said suddenly. I was jolted out of my reverie to see that she was giving me the weirdest look.

"What?" I asked.

"Never mind. Well, most people would be thinking stupid things or thinking about what a bitch I am. You - " What did she mean, most people would be thinking stupid things? How would she know what they were thinking?

Her mouth twitched an imperceptible amount as she paused for a fraction of a second. But I noticed. And I also noticed her fists tighten. Why?

She continued her sentence smoothly, "- don't really seem to be thinking about that. You're just... sitting there. I know when people are thinking about me because they send glares in my direction."

There, again. It was almost as if she'd heard what I'd thought and wanted to clarify that she couldn't hear what I'd said before. But that was ridiculous.

Her jaw tightened.

She looked away.

How strange. I'll admit that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not a superstitious person; I don't actually believe that there are mind-readers out there. But it's kind of a cool thought to entertain. That there are people out there that can read minds. And then that thought makes you wonder what those people would think of you - of me. They would know your every thought and desire and hope and weakness and fault. If Lorraine had been able to read minds, she probably would have an even lower opinion of people than she already did. But then again, maybe it would have the opposite effect and make her more friendly because she'd be able to see the hidden goodness in people.

I shot a nonchalant glance at Lorraine to see her staring fixedly at an empty spot of desk.

It was preposterous to think that she could actually hear what I was thinking.

Maybe she had to be looking at people for it to work - maybe it was her eyes. Gah! I was being stupid. But still, I could experiment. On the 100% chance that I was wrong, nobody would know of my embarrassing idiocy - aside from myself.

That settled it.

Lorraine. I thought. I stared at her head, willing my thoughts to bore through her skull. Okay, I'm going out on a limb here - really, I feel incredibly stupid - but, er, can you hear me?

She didn't respond. Of course not. She couldn't read minds. I was letting my imagination get away from me - again. Wow, I was a pathetic loser.

My thoughts drifted away from Lorraine and back to Matthew. Ugh! I was so pathetically obsessed! What was my problem? It wasn't just his looks either that prevented me from thinking of anything but him; there was something more, something that sort of, I don't know, intrigued me. Drew me to him.

Just then the bell rang and Lorraine jumped up and was out of the classroom before I'd had time to get out of my newest reverie.

The thought that she could read minds was by far the most ridiculous thought that had ever popped into my head.

Author's Note: I got a comment on this - someone felt that Lorraine - being the daughter of Renesme - would have known better than to slip up like she had. I'd just like to point out that she is Jacob's daughter as well. Think of how many times Jake has said too much. Please review! I need feedback!