Author's Note: Okay, I know that I usually say things like, "This is really mediocre," or, "It just isn't that great," but I GENIUNELY feel like this one-shot is one of my favourite (if not my FAVOURITE) one-shot that I've ever written. I'm just so excited as I post this one.

And it's also on the longer side, so those of you who requested longer one-shots may be pleasantly surprised!

Day Thirty-Three: I Am Not A Robot by Marina and the Diamonds

Spencer wondered what she was even doing in morning detention. She had never gotten a detention in her entire life.

She blamed it all on Hanna and Hanna's stupid idea to try and ditch school early.

Then how, you ask, did Hanna manage to get out of detention?

To that, Spencer had no answer. She just sulked as she sat in the corner near the window. She wasn't allowed to do anything but just sit there, so she just stared off into space for a while. She would certainly make it a priority to get back at Hanna for this.

Three minutes later, someone else walked into the room and sat at the desk kitty-corner from her. She looked up to see that it was Toby Cavanaugh.

In retrospect, Spencer wasn't so sure why she was so surprised that Toby Cavanaugh would be in detention. After all, he was notorious for a bunch of unspecified reasons Alison told her. Spencer wasn't quite sure how to feel about him, but some part of her thought he was kind of a coward. He seemed to act really tough. But that was all it was. An act. She really just thought it was all a façade. She didn't really fall for it.

Since she had nothing better to do, she allowed her mind to wander.

She wondered if she ever saw him stick with anything. For as long as they'd been in the same class, he never really seemed to care about one thing for too long.

"What was a girl like Spencer Hastings doing in detention?"

Spencer closed her locker abruptly. That couldn't be…

Toby Cavanaugh. He was right in front of her. She wondered if she had even ever heard him speak outside of class before.

She gave him a confused look. "What?"

"You just don't strike me as the kind of person to go to detention."

She crossed her arms defensively. "And you suddenly know me?" she asked inquisitively, but not angrily.

He shrugged. "I think I know the Spencer Hastings you're showing to the rest of the world. I think I know more about you than you think."

She furrowed her eyebrows. She wondered what he meant by that.

He hated smoking. He truly did. He didn't know why he did it so much. It was relaxing (even if it was disgusting).

He had gotten rid of the cigarette by the time Emily's friends left her house. Aria, Hanna, and Alison had left in the direction of their houses. Spencer walked in the opposite direction, past the Cavanaughs' house. Spencer hadn't even noticed that Toby was sitting outside of his house.

He thought about how odd the friendship between the five girls was. He wondered what the common link was between the five girls.

As he thought more about it, it finally dawned on him. They were all so lonely. It was a weird thing to fathom, considering everyone seemed to adore Alison DiLaurentis. Despite that, they were unloved in their own homes or unloved in other ways.

Toby thought back to the sixth or seventh grade, when Spencer used to be a loner, too, and used to spend recess sitting by herself and reading. Spencer back then was the polar opposite of Alison DiLaurentis. In a lot of ways, she still was.

And still, the other disingenuous part of their friendship seemed to be the fact that Toby didn't buy for a second that Spencer really trusted Alison. He thought it was in part because she was so smart. She was way too smart to think that Alison DiLaurentis could really be trusted.

Toby wondered what Alison had to gain from their "friendship"; a girl like Alison never did anything without some sort of gain.

Of course—Spencer picked up all the loose ends.

Well, of course she did. Spencer Hastings had everything.

And he knew that was just a façade. He knew about people just like her. They were secretly so scared and vulnerable, but they hid it like robots or Barbie dolls behind a plastic or titanium wall.

"Vous n'avez pas á me croire, mais…je suis un ami."

He stared at her for a few moments. She handed him a copy of L'Attrape-Coeurs.

"I thought you'd like it," she added finally.

"Pourquoi?"

She sighed. "Vous avez besoin d'aide en français," she answered.

"Pourquoi vous?"

"J'ai fait du bénévolat."

He wasn't sure whether she was telling the truth. He stepped outside of his house and stood on his front porch with her. He looked down at the book again.

"L'Attrape-Coeurs?"

She nodded. "The Catcher in the Rye?" she translated. "There's no exact translation."

He looked at it again. "This is one of my favorite books," he commented.

She nodded. "I know. I asked Emily and I've seen you reading it before. One of the best ways to learn how to read and learn grammar in a new language is to read a book you already know in English," she told him.

He didn't know what to say besides, "Thank you."

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Okay."

It was quiet for about five minutes. "Have you read this book before?" he asked.

She nodded. "I read it last year. I thought it was okay. It wasn't really one of my favorites, though," she answered.

He couldn't help but be a bit surprised by that. He just assumed someone like her would love all the great American classics.

He just went back to reading. She examined him for about fifteen minutes. She noticed how his blue eyes glowed whenever he stumbled upon an interesting sentence. It was good to see him in such a different state. He looked truly happy.

So then why did he always look so sad? Why was there never this same passion in his eyes? Why did he seem so troubled and dissociated from everyone else? Why didn't he just open up and sing?

"I can't believe you actually signed up to help me," he said to her finally before closing the book.

She looked at him. She felt challenged by that statement. "Why do you say that?" she asked defensively.

"Because you're popular and you hang out with Alison and…why would you want to waste your time with someone like me?" he asked.

She looked down at her feet. "I don't really hang out with her anymore," she said quietly. She sighed, realizing he was waiting for an answer from her. "I don't know. I just think there's something interesting about you. It's like you don't care what other people think of you, even if they hated you, just as long as you're not fake," she commented. "I always wanted to be like that. I always just wanted to…unplug that part of me that cares what everyone else thinks," she murmured.

He just nodded. "Sometimes you learn that it's okay to be vulnerable. You don't always have to be so tough and so perfect," he told her. "You know, I think you might need some of that advice."

She thought about that for a while, even after he had long left her on the porch by herself.

"Mon amour, je sais que m'aimes…J'ai besoin de toi dans ma vie…Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi…J'adore…"

He sat down right in front of her and she looked up. "Je t'aime," she uttered quietly.

"Pourquoi?"

She shook her head fervently. "I was just…reviewing some verbs and things."

She put her own notes away and looked up at him. She recently noticed just how blue his eyes were and just how radiant his smile was. She just started to pick up on all the subtle things about him and all the nuances between him and everyone else.

He nodded. "So how is your new study group?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "C'est enfer."

"Que s'est-il passé?"

She sighed. "Ce n'est rien. Je ne veux pas penser à l'université."

He seemed surprised by that. All a Hastings ever really cared about was college. Going to her dream school was all Spencer could talk about for months. "Pourquoi?"

"Cela signifie que je vais devoir vous quitter."

As soon as the words left her lips, she realized she could never take it back and it could change everything between them. "And I don't want to leave you," she added.

"Spencer…"

"Tu m'as appris comment se sentir pour la première fois. And…je pense que je t'aime," she disclosed.

"Je pense que Je t'aime, trop."

She couldn't speak. She opened her mouth to talk, but she couldn't find the words, neither in French nor in English. He took this as the opportunity to kiss her.

And there were these small butterflies fluttering in her stomach and in her chest which she had never felt before.

He was teaching her how to feel love.

Aw, and we have cute Spoby! By the way, if I have any native French speakers or people who speak fluent French irate about how I butchered your beautiful language, I'm extremely sorry, but I don't really speak a lot of French. I got a lot of it from a bunch of sketchy sources, but I did my best to try and make it as correct as possible. But if you'd like to correct me, go right ahead! I'd actually greatly appreciate it if you could fix my French because I do want my writing to be as accurate as possible :)

MizzIsTheFizz: Thank you! I'm very glad that you liked it!

Okay, so Sarah is going to jump up and down for joy when she learns what the next one-shot will be. The next one-shot will be What I Did For Love from A Chorus Line. I know she just jumped up and down as she read it. Theatre geeks, rejoice.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go finish my homework, eat cheesecake, prep for reading as Lady Macbeth tomorrow, and question my life choices ALL before PLL comes on later. Bye! -Kayson

PS. OH! And don't forget to tell me how you cried/screamed/cursed/threw crap at your TV tonight after we got heart attacks watching PLL!