An: ~text messages ~ I'm sorry, I'm horrible. I hope to update more regularly but everything has been insane

A stupid, unnecessary fan blows my papers off my desk. I pick them back up and attempt to stack them neatly, to no avail. I can feel the heated gaze of my lab partner.I drag my finger across the coiled metal of my notebook at a snail's pace while counting breaths. All of my attention is focused on keeping my j hair the same color. His deep red eyes make it difficult to stop the stand just above my ear from doing its usual embarrassed panic. Red. He thinks that I don't notice. But as long as no one gets hurt, I don't mind. My pocket buzzes. I grab for it with one hand while pulling at the unraveling string of my sweatshirt. I place the string into my mouth and look down.

~How's smart people class? ~

~oh, it's alright. My lab partner keeps starting at me. ~

I nod and pretend to write notes down

~staring*~

The moist string is starting to bother me so I spit it out.

~who's your lab partner? ~

I twist the dreamcatcher in between my fingers. I've forgotten his name, but if I ask him now he'll know know we're talking about him. Perhaps if I lean out he'll have written it on his paper.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he says.

What? I look at him with wide, startled eyes. He points down at the illuminated screen. I open my mouth and then close it. It's better not to say anything. I point it away from him to answer.

~Edward Cullen ~

I stare down at the phone expectantly. Nothing happens.

"Mitochondria," I answer the teacher.

Still no reply from Jacob.

I fill in the diagram. Edward still thinks I don't notice. The bell rings. I gather my things together and force my phone into my pocket. A boy rushes toward me.

"Woah," I say.

"Sorry. It's just.. I'm Mike Newton," he says.

"Teddy," I say.

He smiles.

"You're good at biology. I thought maybe," he says.

I push hair out of my eyes and then play with the third feather on my necklace.

"Could you help me pull up my grade?" he asks.

"The quarter just started," I say.

"I didn't do so well last quarter. I need the A," Mike says.

"Well, I guess..I can come over or something if you drive me home," I say.

My pocket vibrates. I smile awkwardly and check it.

~he's dangerous ~

~who says so? Anyway, he's just my lab partner. Tell Billy I went to Mike Newton's house ~

~who's Mike Newton? ~

~why do you care? ~

I smile at Mike.

~he'll ask me who he is. You know he will ~

~he needs help with biology ~

I look up. That didn't quite answer his question, but I don't owe him an answer.

"Sorry, I just.. I had to say I wasn't going home. I'll meet you back here then?" I say.

"Thanks! You have no idea how much I need this," Mike says.

I shrug and walk away.

~sounds suspicious ~

~it's biology. I'm good at it. You sound like Andromeda. ~

i consider this a compliment as "Andromeda" obviously cares if you live or die. ~

~she's my grandmother. Ask anyone in this building who Mike Newton is. Go ahead. There are five people in this town~

whatever. Get slashed up ~

~you care too much. ~

you don't care enough~

~whatever, Andromeda, I'm going and that's final! ~

I turn the phone firmly off and shove it into my backpack before climbing in Mike's car.

"Hey, thanks for doing this," he says.

Keys in the ignition. Gas pumps through metal veins and I hold onto the door handle. Music wafts from the radio and I keep my eyes glued to the window. Edward Cullen locks eyes with me through it.

We move along the roads.

"Teddy, are you okay?" he asks.

I nod but say nothing. We pull into the driveway-his driveway. My grip on the handle never falters as I spill out of the door.

"Are you… afraid?" he asks.

I twirl the feather on my necklace between my thumb and forefinger.

"I'm a good driver, don't worry," he says.

Mike smiles at me, wide and genuine, and ruffles my hair. I lean into the touch.

"And my mom's home," he adds.

He leads me up the stairs with a, "Mom, this is Teddy. We're going upstairs," and a bored tour guide voice.

"And here we have a teenage boy's room. He's clearly into the supernatural, reading, videogames, and male supermodels,"he finishes.

I laugh. His room is neat.

"There. Relaxed," he says.

I throw open my bag and pull out my bio book. Mike sits on the edge of the bed and watches me. I lose myself in the chapter.

"Cell structure isn't really complicated. I have charts and-"I say, "what is it?"

"Nothing, keep going," he says.

I unclip a chart from my binder and go over it as best I can.

"Sorry, I talked for fifteen minutes about plant cells," I say.

I place my chart on the floor slowly and untie my shoelaces.

"No, don't be," he says.

I tie my shoes again.

"I mean it. Don't ever apologize to me for talking about something that makes you as happy as this color coded cell chart just made you. Ever," he says.

I take my shoes of. He chuckles quietly.

"Come here," Mike says.

I look into his eyes.

"What?" I say.

"There's something on the ceiling you need to see. Hell, I need it all the time," he says.

I decide that he actually wants me to look at the ceiling. Why I can't do it from here, I don't know. I gently plop onto the bed beside him. He lays back and looks at the ceiling, so I do the same. His arm brushes mine.

There, just the same as it was when I was on the floor but whatever, is a small plaque.

Those who danced were thought to be quite mad by those who couldn't hear the music.

"Who-?" I say.

"I did. Well, Nietzsche said it, but I made it. It's kind of dumb, but that's the point. I like woodwork and painting, so I made that. It isn't the best but I like it, so why stop?" he says.

I don't answer. I wind my fingers with his and we stare at the ceiling for a very long time.