As I removed my sleeping mask from my eyes, I felt exhausted from the six hours of sleep I had gotten. This is usually the point where people hit their snooze alarms and go back to sleep, but I find that hard to do with my bright orange colored walls shining at me.

I let out a frustrated groan when Rodger climbed onto my chest so he could slobber all over my face with kisses. “Okay, okay,” I whined as I gently pushed the dog onto the bed and off of me. “I’m getting up.”

I finally dragged myself out of the bed and rubbed my sleepy eyes. I really wish I hadn’t stayed over at Hayden’s so late, but then again, I’d still have a hard time sleeping any earlier due to the fact that I’m a night owl. I hate mornings, so I tend to stay up super late and sleep until the afternoon. Now, school is being a bitch and won’t let me do that.

Once I changed my clothes, I went to the bathroom and applied my usual foundation, blush, and mascara. I started looking a little more alive, but I surely wasn’t feeling that way. I’m too lazy to do my hair on mornings like these, so I just gathered my long hair into a ponytail, and called it “good enough.”

“Good morning, Sunshine,” my mother’s cheery voice greeted me as I entered the kitchen with Rodger following me. “How was school yesterday?”

“Good,” I mumbled while searching for an energy drink in the refrigerator.

“Well, I’m glad you loved it. Are you excited about your classes today?”

“Oh, yeah. Because Chemistry is surely a subject I look forward to,” I replied sarcastically.

Just then, my father walked into the kitchen, “I could help you with your Chemistry.”

I ran my hand down my face and shook my head, “No thank you. You turn every question I have into a biblical lecture. I’d rather have help from Mom.”

I only say that because my mother just gives me the answer. I’ll show her the question, she’ll do it herself, and then she’ll tell me what to write. My father just thinks every answer is related to God, so I have to hear some sort of story from the bible before he actually helps me with the problem. The sad thing is, with either parents’ help, I’m still not learning a thing.

“Coffee?” my dad smirked as he poured himself some.

“Ha ha,” I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. He knows I hate coffee. In fact, I’m really picky about anything I eat and drink which isn’t exactly that great since I’m already gluten intolerant, and it really narrows down my food options. “Anyways, my bag broke yesterday, so can I have some cash so I can run to the store after school and get a new one?”

My mother leaned her back against the counter and tilted her head to the side, “Why don’t you use your backpack from middle school?”

“No way,” I shook my head. “I am not wearing that.”

“Oh, come on,” my father teased. “You’d be saving yourself a trip and saving us some money.” He thinks he’s so funny.

I groaned, “I don’t want to wear a My Little Pony backpack. It’s bad enough that I wore it in middle school. Besides, didn’t I throw it out?”

“You tried to, but I put it in the garage,” my mom smiled. Fuck my life.

“I’ll just carry my stuff around,” I mumbled as I walked out of the kitchen.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” my mother called after me.

I looked over my shoulder at her, “We’ve been over this; I’m never hungry this early in the morning.”

“Well, at least take something to eat. Take a banana.”

“Fine.”

---

Walking into Mr. McCall’s classroom, I couldn’t help but feel like I’m forgetting something. That might be because I don’t have my lanyard of keys since I didn’t drive today, and my mom is going to be home before I do. I also still don’t have a bag, so my phone is in the pocket of my jeans along with my lunch money, and I’m carrying a notebook, a pencil, and a banana. I didn’t want to carry so much and seeming as I was teased a bit yesterday, I figured I shouldn’t bring so much crap today. Now, I feel like I left too much at home.

In this classroom, the desks are all grouped together, each arrangement containing five or six desks. I’ve found that most English teachers like seating us like this, or at least it’s just all of the English teachers I get.

I chose to sit at one of the desks in the front. Call me lame, but I actually like to pay attention to the teachers in my classes. It’s mostly because I have the attention span of a goldfish, and I lose interest easily, so I like to sit in the front so the teachers can keep me in line.

My eyes glanced up at the teacher who is now stood in the doorway to give students fist bumps. He has the figure of a basketball player: tall, skinny, and built. He also seems somewhat young, and judging by his greeting to every student that enters the room, he’s going to be a fun teacher.

A small Asian walked into the classroom wearing a tucked in button up shirt that’s buttoned all the way to the top which includes the collar. Who buttons it that high? It looks like it’s choking him. Behind his square black framed glasses, I see a recognizable face.

“Hey Jon,” I waved over to him. Normally, I’d be too shy to acknowledge someone familiar, but it seems he’s just easier to speak to than most guys.

“Hey,” he smiled towards me and held his hand out to shake mine. “It’s Jon Jon.”

“I like Jon singular better,” I shrugged as I just stared at his hand. Why does he want to shake my hand again?

He pulled his hand away to rub his chin, but he didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t respond to his gesture. “Devon, right?” I nodded. “You should come sit in the back of the class with us.”
Us?

I shook my head, “I should probably sit up front because I can never focus clearly in class.”

“So?” he laughed as if my reasoning was poor. “Just come sit with us.”

I guess it would be cool to actually have a friend in a class for once. Besides, he seems like a really nice guy, so why not? “Okay,” I sighed in defeat. As I stood up from my chair and picked up my stuff, I found myself laughing at the fruit I’m carrying around. “Want a banana?” I offered it to him as we walked towards the back of the room.

“Really?” he grinned widely and I nodded. He took it from me and said, “Thanks. I was running a little behind this morning, so I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.”

“I just don’t eat breakfast.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

“Well, I eat breakfast. I’m just not hungry right now.”

“Ah,” he nodded. We walked over to an arrangement of desks that hadn’t been filled yet and sat down next to each other. “Did you have McCall last year?”

“Nope. Did you?”

“Yeah, he’s hella chill.” I felt myself cringing at the word “hella.” I’ve always hated slang words people use: YOLO, swag, hella, ratchet, and the list goes on. I hope this guy isn’t really annoying about it. “He gets off topic during class sometimes and tells us some interesting stories.”

“That’s cool.” I really have no idea what to say which means my awkwardness is kicking in.

I was saved by a familiar voice, “Yo, J.J.”

“Hey Tatum” Jon chuckled and gave whoever is standing behind me one of those dude handshakes.

“Who’s the girl?” the voice spoke up again. Before Jon could respond, the guy took a seat across from me. “I’m Ta-“ he stopped once his pale blue eyes met mine. “Devon?” he grinned from ear to ear.

I smiled shyly, “Hey Tate.”

Jon pointed back and forth between me and Tate, “You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we met yesterday,” Tate stated as he shrugged off his backpack and placed it onto his desk.

“Did she dump her stuff around you too?” the Asian snickered as he finally unpeeled the banana I had given him.

I lightly shoved his shoulder and mumbled, “So rude.”

Tate chuckled at my reaction and said, “No, but I did see her carrying it all around. Where’s all of your stuff today, Devon?”

“So, ‘Tatum,’ huh?” I decided to divert the conversation away from my klutziness and foolishness. I’m okay with speaking about my humiliating incidents for laughs, but I’d rather not just sit here and allow myself to be teased.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, J.J. here thinks he’s some sort of a genius for coming up with that one. He mixed my first and last name together and was like, ‘Channing Tatum!’ My last name is Adams, by the way.”

“So shouldn’t it be Tatums with an 's' since your last name ends with an 's?'”

“That’s what I said,” he laughed.

“But Tatums sounds so stupid,” Jon said as if it was a known fact.

I shook my head, “No it doesn’t. It just sounds like something a girl would call her boyfriend.”

“Or her cat,” Tate added.

Jon then set his banana down and reached across the desk to pinch Tate’s cheeks. “Aww, look at my Tatums,” he spoke to Tate as if he was a baby, earning a glare from the blonde.

“Exactly,” I smirked at the buff kid that’s sitting across from me. He shot me a smile and shook his head playfully once Jon Jon sat back in his seat and continued to devour his fruit.

The second bell (AKA the Late Bell) rang, letting us know we should all be in our classrooms by now. I found myself being the shy quiet person I am as two other people sat down in our gathering of desks. I could tell they know Jon and Tate since they’re all doing handshakes and chatting away. I also happened to realize I’m the only silent person at this rowdy table. I normally like to sit in the front with the quiet people because we just talk when we have to, and we remain focused. I have a feeling that while I sit with these guys, I won’t understand anything that’s happening in this class.

“Okay, Class,” our teacher stood from his desk and positioned himself in front of his self-made podium to straighten up a stack of papers. His podium is all wood and its chipping white paint is missing in numerous spots. I couldn’t really tell from the back of the classroom, but it seemed like there was a bunch of signatures on it. Maybe they’re past student signatures. “My name is Mr. McCall, as it should say on your schedules, and this is the Senior English class.”

“Last English class ever!” Jon Jon cheered, and the class laughed.

“Are you not going to college?” Tate raised a brow at his friend.

“I am.”

Another guy at our table spoke up, “You do know that you have to take English in college, right?”

“We do?” All of us nodded at him. “Shit.”

Mr. McCall chuckles, “Glad to have you back, Mr. Ramos.” He then took the stack of papers he had and began handing them out to everyone, “Okay, I’m giving you all your syllabus. I expect you all to read this and get it signed by your parents since I have a list of movies in here that we’ll be watching, and we’ll need your parent’s approval to watch them. If you’re already eighteen then just sign it yourself. You’ll need to turn it in by the end of next week.

“There’s also a list of school supplies in there that I hope you’ll get. I know some of you like to play ‘cool kid’ and rely on others to bring extra stuff for you, but I can assure you, I’ll embarrass you for that,” he waved his finger at us all, and the students laughed.

“What are Post-its?” Jon Jon asked quite loudly as he scanned the syllabus, and the class roared with more laughter. “I’m serious.”

“Really, J?” Tate raised his brows. Jon chuckled lightly as he nodded, still not understanding why we’re all shooting him puzzled looks. Tate pulled a packet of sticky notes out of the smaller pouch of his backpack and held them up for Jon Jon to see.

“Oh, I knew that,” he laughed.

“No you didn’t.”

“I forgot.”

I started giggling, “Is he always…?” I couldn’t even finish my sentence because the word on my mind was “stupid,” and I knew it’d be incredibly rude to say that. If we were really really good friends, then I’d definitely call him dumb.

“An idiot? Yes,” Tate chuckled. “He’s just lucky he’s not ugly.”

“Hey,” the Asian glared at his friend.

The rest of class consisted of Mr. McCall explaining more about the syllabus, us having to take a short test to show Mr. McCall what skills we need to work on in class, me meeting the other two guys at our table (Roy and Mark), Tate telling me stories about Jon Jon’s “brightness,” and our teacher sharing silly childhood stories. It was a fairly entertaining class, and Mr. McCall is definitely at the top of my list of favorite teachers.

I think the best part of class was getting to know Jon and Tate a little more. Tate is actually insanely smart. I noticed every time he had to explain something to Jon, he used big words and was confident in whatever he said. Jon Jon is exactly the opposite of Tate, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit when his friends make fun of his silly questions and statements. They are quite the duo.

When the bell rang, I found myself kind of disappointed. I would rather sit with these guys all day than go to any of my other classes. After waving the guys goodbye, I headed for the door, only to be stopped in the hallway by a hand gently wrapping around my arm.

I turned around to face the beautifully smiling Tate. “Hey, um, I just wanted to say I’m glad I have a class with you,” he stated after pulling his hand away.

“Me too.”

“I like your hair like that,” he pointed to it.

I furrowed my brows in confusion at him before shaking it away. “Uh, it’s just in a ponytail, but thanks.” Why do I have to be so fucking awkward? Just take the damn compliment.

“I uh, I like it down too. I like it both ways,” he rambled, and I found myself giggling at him.

“Thank you,” I said much more sincerely this time.

“Can I walk you to where you meet up with Hayden for break?”

I felt what probably looks like a stupid grin tug at my lips, “Sure.” I turned back towards where I was walking and waited for him to be at my side before I started heading out of the hallway again.

“So how long have you and Hayden known each other? She said a long time, but that doesn’t really specify anything,” he lightly chuckled.

“That’s Hayden for you,” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been friends since First Grade, so about eleven years.”

He dragged out a whistle and said, “Dang, that’s a long time.” Something else I’ve noticed about this guy is that he never cusses. It’s pretty rare to find a guy who doesn’t curse after every other word nowadays, so I think it’s cool that he doesn’t. It shows that he’s mature and respectful.

“Indeed it is,” I agreed. “It makes me feel kind of old.” I cleared my throat to prepare myself to speak in my best elderly voice, “I met your ol’ Aunt Hayden eleven years ago, and we’re still friends to this day. Can you believe that?”

He let out a booming laugh that was like music to my ears. He has a really nice laugh. “Well, it must be really nice to have someone like that in your life.”

I grinned, “It really is. What about you? Do you have any long-term friendships?”

“Not really. I’ve known some people since middle school, but that’s because we were in USB together.”

I raised my brows, “You were in USB?” USB stands for United Student Body which is a group of students who help out with school activities such as Spirit Week and Pep Rallies. They are also in charge of planning dance themes and setting up the decorations for them.

“I still am,” he sighed. “I didn’t want to do it in middle school, but my parents forced me into it. Now, it’s kind of grown on me, but it’s hard to balance it with football and schoolwork sometimes. There’s so much preparation for fundraisers, dances, and well, pretty much everything.”

“I bet. So you’re into coloring pretty posters then?” I teased. They make a lot of posters.

“Well, it’s not as bad as it seems. I’m really good at it too. You know? Like, I can color between the lines and everything. I also really like to draw those happy faces and our bull mascot which wind ups looking like a rabbit with my kind of artistic ability.” He bit down on his lip, trying to keep a straight face but failing at it.

I found myself holding my stomach because I was laughing so hard, and he eventually joined in. “That’s a really good skill to have,” I giggled.

We finally reached the tall palm tree that sits near the classroom buildings and just so happens to be where I meet up with Hayden. “So, this is it,” I chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks for walking me over here.”

“No problem. Do you want me to wait with you for her?”

He’s so freaking sweet. It’s just that I don’t want him to stay and for me to mess things up with my strangeness or something. This is how things normally go with guys. We become friends, hang out more, and then within time, I’m known as a freak and they want nothing to do with me. I don’t want Tate to be one of those guys.

“Um, no, it’s okay,” I smiled. “Thank you for the offer.”

“It’s no problem,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Well, see you later, Devon.”

“Later, Tatums,” I smirked, and he shook his head at me before turning around and walking away.

Goddammit, why does he have to be so cute?

---

After break and boring-ass Chemistry, I stood in the lunch line with Hayden to buy a fruit bowl and a Gatorade. Fruit bowls are one of the few things without gluten that I can actually eat here. Another thing I like to do is bring food from home. Sometimes I just bring something like my gluten-free salad dressing in a small container and buy a salad here.

As we walked over to our usual table that’s in the middle of the quad, Hayden brought up Tate.
“So I heard you had a class with Tate today,” she wiggled her brows at me.

“I did,” I nodded, completely dismissing her gesture. “I was sitting with Jon Jon when he came in. How coincidental is it that they’re friends?”

“Well, it’s definitely interesting. Now two of the populars know who you are.”

We finally reached the table and sat down at it. I opened up the fruit bowl and stabbed a piece of watermelon with my plastic spork, “That’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah it is,” she exaggeratingly nodded, and I slapped her arm. “What? I’m just agreeing with you,” she laughed.

“Well, I just don’t know about Tate,” I admitted. “He seems nice and all, but he’s in USB with all of the snobs.”

She arched her brows, “He is?”

“It seems too good to be true. I mean, he’s a quarterback, he’s buff, he’s attractive, he’s smart, and he helps out with the school. I feel like I’m being punked or something. Are you pranking me?” I eyed her suspiciously and pointed the spork at her.

She laughed, “That would be a great joke to pull, but no. I told you he’s perfect for you. You should really…”

I drowned her voice out once I spotted a certain curly haired boy walking by with a guy whose hair is bleach blonde. Today, he actually was carrying a binder with him rather than having nothing like he did yesterday.

I started wondering how he knew my last name. Maybe that's what Mrs. Cross whispered to him in class before and pushed him towards me. That has to be it. There’s no way in hell he actually knew me. Well…he seemed to know we went to the same middle school. I don’t understand how he knew me.

“Earth to Devon!” Hayden waved her hand in my face. Before I could give her some sort of snarky response about wanting to bite her hand for waving it in my face, she turned her head to see who I was looking at. She turned back towards me with raised eyebrows and a wide mocking grin, “Again? Seriously?”

I groaned, “I only liked him for a week in middle school.”

“It was a month. I know this because you wouldn’t stop talking about the guy who doesn’t even know who you are,” she laughed.

“For your information, he knows me now,” I stuck my tongue out at her. “I have a class with him.”

“Ooo, now,” she teased me further. “Devon, that kid goes for all of the slutty girls like Cake Face.”

She’s talking about Leah Skidmore: the school whore and also a rich snob. She’s always looking to hook up with guys which is quite obvious by her clothing choices she should be dress-coded for and the hundreds of cosmetics she wears on her face. I’ve seen her without makeup before, and she’s super pretty, so I have no idea why she prefers to look like a clown. Her natural voice is an annoying high pitched nasal sound that is both recognizable and easily heard from across the school campus.

Leah is someone who hangs out in the same type of crowd as Tate. She throws parties almost every week at her gigantic house which isn’t a mansion but it’s most likely considered one in this town. I’ve never been to one of her parties, but I’ve gone to her house to work on a project I got stuck with her for and got to listen to her tell stories about them.

Like Tate, she’s in USB as well, but she likes to try and spend the school fundraiser money on things like music for lunch rather than saving it up for Prom. Honestly, I think she should just use her own money for that stuff, or at least write a big fat check to the school.
Besides all that, she’s actually a really nice girl. I just don’t exactly agree with her choices, and I can’t stand her voice.

“Name one time you’ve seen him hook up with a girl,” I challenged my best friend. She thought about it for a second but wound up shrugging. “Exactly. Girls like Leah chase after him all the time, but I’ve never seen him pay any attention to them. Have you?”

She grumbled, “No.”

“So then you’re being too quick to judge.”

“Look, Devon. Harry is an asshole who goes to parties all the time and has all of the girls wrapped around his finger,” she stated casually. “Just because we haven’t seen him groping and making out with someone doesn’t mean he hasn’t. Maybe the guy has some morals. Just face it, you’d be better off with someone like Tate: someone who actually seems to have taken an interest in you.”

“I guess,” I said sadly, not really wanting to talk about it anymore.

I get what she’s saying, but I don’t know Tate all that well either. Neither of us do. It’s possible that Tate and Harry could be a lot different than people say they are.

It’s not like it matters anyways. I’m definitely not their type.

---

My last class of the day is Graphics Design. There really isn’t any particular reason for why I chose to take this class. I just thought it’d be fun, and I already have the Photoshop experience (thanks to last year’s Photography class) that’ll be needed for this class.

“Okay everyone,” Mr. Whitmore stood in front of the classroom with a sheet of paper. “Don’t get too comfortable in those chairs because I’ll be seating you in alphabetical order. It’s just easier for me to take roll this way. So everyone come up here, and wait until I tell you where you’ll be sitting.”

With a few sounds of students protesting and chairs squeaking against the tiled floor, everybody did as they were told. One by one, Mr. Whitmore pointed to seats and announced the name of the person who’ll be sitting at what seat. This is one of those times where I hate the fact that my last name is so far down in the alphabet. Curse you Tingley.

I took this chance to look around the room, mostly at the photos that are stapled to the walls. I had Mr. Whitmore for Photography last year, so I remember him talking about how the photos on the walls are student-made and were donated to him. In my opinion, I wasn’t good at Photography, so I didn’t feel comfortable with sharing one of my pictures, but I recognize of few of them that were made by my former classmates. Maybe I’ll have better luck with Graphics Design, and my pictures will be up there.

“Devon Tingley,” Mr. Whitmore pointed to the last empty seat at one of the four seated tables. It's not a place I'd normally choose since it's in the back, but I guess I'll have to suck it up. The teacher called out four more student’s names as I took my seat and placed my notebook and pencil on the edge of the table. “Okay, just let me take roll, and then we’ll go over a few things.”

“I know you from somewhere,” a cheery voice spoke from beside me. I turned my head to the left to find a tan skinned boy with blue eyes and somewhat long choppy brown hair that’s all pushed to the side. He was pointing at me before he began tapping that same finger to his chin. Wait. I know this guy. He’s the guy Eleanor was holding hands with yesterday. “What’s your name, Doll?”

I’m assuming that because he’s British, that’s the reason he just called me Doll. “Devon,” my voice sounded shaky. Shy Devon is back.

“I’m Louis,” he grinned. “God, why do you look so familiar?”

“Did you maybe see me yesterday?” I asked. His look of confusion caught me off-guard and had me panicking on the inside. I did something wrong, didn’t I? This always happens with me and guys; they think I stalk them or something. I quickly explained what I meant, “I’m on Eleanor’s softball team, and I saw her walking with you in the parking lot.”

“Ah,” he nodded, a smile reappearing on his face. “I didn’t really pay attention to be honest. I was on my cell until she came out, so I didn’t see you. I swear I know who you are though.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” I teased. He doesn’t have to know I was freaking out about the possibility of him saying that same exact thing to me but in a non-teasing way.

He just chuckled, “Sorry. I’ll just silently figure it out.” I nodded and took my eyes away from him to stare at the blank computer screen that’s sitting in front of me. “Are you sure you don’t remember me from somewhere else?” he asked after a bit of silence, tapping my shoulder lightly as he did so.

“I’m sure,” I laughed and nodded at him. Where else would he have seen me? He’s obviously from England, and the only time I’ve ever seen him in my life is today and yesterday. I think I’d remember him if we met before. It’s hard to forget a face like his.

“Okay, Class,” Mr. Whitmore said as he stood before us. “Before we go over the syllabus, I wanted to make something clear. The students sitting in the aisle seats at the end of your table are students who’ve had a class with me before and know what they’re doing. They’ll be your group leaders, so if you need any help and I’m unable to get to you at the moment, the leaders will help you out. They’re my top students, so you can trust them for assistance.”

I looked to my right to realize I’m sitting at the end of the table, and I'm one of those students he’s talking about.

"All hail the leader." I faced Louis to find him bowing his head and arms at me.

Yeah, I’d definitely remember a kid like this.

Notes

I finally updated! Whoop whoop! Haha.

Again, I'm sorry for taking so long. I'll try to be quicker with the next update.

I'm sorry if this sucks too. I'm really tired and am in one of those "fuck you life" moods, so I feel like it sucks haha.

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