"Trust is a dangerous game." - Unknown

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Silence. Impatience. Frustration.

I ran to the man with the coat, grabbed his arm and rammed my leg into his stomach. His coat was red like spilled sheets of blood in a midnight hour after pitch dark. Yet, as the coat went under my chilled fingertips, the fabric was so soft that it was almost familiar.

The man's excruciating noise awoke me from my sudden daydreaming and I watched him as he sank down on the stone-alike ground that seemed to swallow him after all. I looked up.

Several men, seemingly copies of the one with the spilled-blood coat came up, waiting for me. With the order of getting me out of the way. I smiled softly at the thought that they actually thought they could. It was nearly sweet.

I heard a loud crack and looked to my right. My partner for this order had turned up. I didn't know her. Her face was covered by a davy's-gray mask, and her hair was tied back in a firm bun. Her facial features were telling me that she was a girl, somewhat around my age. One of the men was below her and she used the trick that made one lose consciousness. She looked up when the man had been eliminated and grinned at me. The smile that grazed my face was full of encouragement as she gestured me forward.

In these Nights, there was no honor. Everyone wanted what they wanted. Force was needed. Partnering up for survival was necessary. An attitude like this served as an aid of survival.

Two more copies-alike men came up to me, and though their eyes shared their deepest fear with me, nothing hindered them from wanting to bash me down to mother earth. The dark-haired woman's gesture indicated that I should duck, as she ran off to a third copy-man, and opened a small, deep-hid pocket in her jacket. Loose powder flew through the atmosphere, spread out as if it was a fragrance, blowing into the man's face like wind during a thunderstorm.

He staggered, plummeted on two others that were approaching me. I grinned mischievously, sitting cosily on one of the office chairs to see on my hand mirror whether or not my eyeliner was too smeared. There was no reason to look bad during an attack, was there?

I grinned when I saw three more faces behind me. My foot stuck under the chair as I got up and impelled the chair towards the men. All three went down in a split of a second as the chair let them tumble under its weight. Now was the time.

I ran to the flake-off colour, in-need-of-replacement, closets, tore them open and threw everything that hindered me from searching further out. Unimportant plates, papers and little things such as rubber bands or loose cardboards landed in the fireplace next to me. I took one of the cardboards, and lit it up with a lighter I grasped from a jacket pocket to throw it onto the rest in the fire place. A fire as wild as the world outside aroused.

I groaned in frustration. It wasn't here. I still didn't find it. And I never failed. I wouldn't fail now. No, not an option.

I heard an untamed scream and turned around. One more of them came up to me but, unlike the others, wore a safety vest. How cute, a safety west! My mischievous smile grew bigger.

A challenge.

His hands formed two fists as he was slightly bend forward. He didn't seem to fear a woman, not me at least. But when I approached him, he seemed as if he was rethinking that disposition when my leg collided with his stomach. As he stumbled, he fell back, but got up straight away. My strength took him by surprise.

He tried to grab me repeatedly, but failed in vain every single time, as I grabbed his neck and used my favourite piece of knowledge to steal his consciousness. He tried to stand up at first, but after only splits of seconds he fell onto the ground, unconscious and stunned by my actions. I heard some blaring noises and looked up to look my partner in the eyes. I smiled at her, and when she saw that I had costed the man his consciousness, she smiled back.

I was about to drag the man on the floor somewhere else as his for-the-moment-lifeless body was disturbing me, when I heard steps coming towards me. It wasn't a man's footsteps – they were too elegant and chique for that. It were my partner's ones.

I looked up, which turned out to be my biggest miscalculation as they were burning like they were set on fire the next minute. She had blown the loose powder into my face as well. Why?

My eyes were nearly filled with fear, but I didn't let it take over me, and fought against the distinct feeling of being set on fire to search for her Silhouette in the room. The igniting mirrored her betrayal, and my eyes held a home for them for doing so.

I stumbled, and got pushed towards the glass-thin windows. The fire in my eyes stopped igniting itself over and over again, allowing me to open them. But I was helpless.

My sight was blurred, but I saw a flash of mischief. She kept coming towards me, I ran backwards, but the heel of her shiny black pump was pressed against my throat. I only apprehended splinters break, shatter, crashing, and closed my eyes to protect myself from absolute blindness.

I scarcely even noticed how I fell deep down, extending in a brace of meters per second as if I was weightless, and it was almost a pleasant feeling, until I crashed into the roof of a car, and I felt nothing no more.

_____________________________________________________

"We rise by lifting others." - Robert Ingersoll

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"Sofia, stop that! "

One pillow after another landed. First in mine, and then finally in her face. She seemed to be weary for her life – otherwise she would've never dared to wake me up this early.

"Let me sleep, you know how much I hate being woken up!" she only chuckled at my answer.

I heard the footsteps that became quieter and quieter. She must have gotten out of the room for good.

Happy to get some more sleep, I closed my eyes and fell back into my pillow. The warmth of the blanket enveloped me and as Sofia closed the door, the room was wrapped in darkness again.

Finally. The only thing I wanted was a bit more sleep...my body needed to rest...just a couple more minutes...

I shouted.

Screamed, to be exact.

What was wrong with her? When did she turn this childish? Did the last thirteen years didn't teach her anything about my sleeping habits?

I could clearly feel the water from my hair seeping down my face, and into my top. A wet pink bra. Great.

I tried opening my eyes, but they punished me the second after trying to do so. They were too tired, my entire body was sluggish, and I shivered as I tried to stand up. I beard to seat myself down after a couple of tries, and as I opened my eyes I saw Derek's physique instead of Sofia's.

Now that made sense. Derek was still a child to me. But even though it made sense for him to perform these childish pranks on me, my anger didn't settle down, instead it ranged up - this asshole had actually poured water over me while I had slept. He couldn't be serious, could he? How old was he, five?

"You're so childish, Derek!" I hissed and tried wringing out my top. Some tears of the ice cold spread over the ground spot I sat above on the massive bed, "and you're still the biggest pessimist I know," he replied with a smirk, but I just rolled my eyes.

"Why can't you all deal with yourself? Just let me sleep! " I stood up, groaning. I felt nauseous, and wobbly, as if my body wasn't able to hold itself in standing. I took a deep breath and as the fresh air rushed into my lungs, I felt safe up standing.

He smiled at my little speech, "at least you're awake now," he laughed all of a sudden.

Derek Rutherford. One of my oldest friends.

He still laughed at me. Would he ever stop?

But I enjoyed it for some reason. It was a special laugh, and he still carried with him after all these years, as well as this certain light-brown color of his.

Everything else had changed quite a bit.

His eyes had become much brighter, rather than the black tone his eyes were in when we were still in middle school, they were filled with a somewhat brownish one. He was no longer a little taller than me, but around ten centimetres taller. He used to be obsessed with Jane Austen stories, but since he chose Literature as a higher-level class, grabbing a book was torture itself.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" he asked me, frowning, "I was just thinking, it doesn't matter," I murmured and wanted to go down, "it does, spill it," he persisted.

"Nope," I still said and tried wringing out my top a bit more, "Melea," Derek's eyes were still focused on me, but I shook my head for a no.

"Say it now," he still persisted up to this time, but I only sighed and answered with a simple, "you are so exhausting."

I wrapped my cardigan closer around my body. This dim-grey cardigan was likely to be the best investment I had ever done. At present, it saved me from a long-lasting conversation about my morals and my reasons for putting myself in live-challenging situations. And it had only cost me 13,99$. I was lucky sometimes.

"I'll take a shower," Derek murmured and I agreed with a short nod. Looking down so that the right half of my face was hid, I opened the narrow door and we walked out, "is Veronica still here?" I commenced a conversation.

Veronica was with Derek and Sofia one of my oldest and best friend. I've met Derek and Veronica in first grade, while Sofia and I already went to Kindergarten together. We then all went to the same middle and high school together. I've been friends with them since I could think straight.

Friends...? I could as well just say family.

"No, but she should be back soon. Just like her parents," he answered and I nodded, "so we should get going then?" I clarified and saw him shaking his head for a yes, "I think so."

"Where's Sofia?" I was already at the stairs, but stopped walking as the guest bathroom was up here and our ways would part once I'd go down.

"In the bathroom, getting ready. I think she'll be finished soon. She's been in there since forever and never looks much better when she comes out," he replied and I chuckled, "wow, you're such a gentleman."

"I heard that!" Sofia's voice ranged. Derek smirked in response, gave me a slight nod and opened the guest bathroom, just to close it a couple of seconds after.

I walked down to the kitchen, and while doing so I realized that the nauseous feeling returned to my body, flooding through my veins to take over my mind and heart. I stopped on the last stair for a bit, and held onto the stair terrain. I should really rest more.

"Melea, what happened to your face?", I heard Sofia's bell-alike voice and my head bend to the direction of the actual bathroom. My cardigan had been falling down from my shoulders as I had reached for the terrain, and I had brushed my hair aside from my face. My bruises from last night were bared.

"It's not that bad," I mumbled, and ran my hand over my cheek and the small abrasion that I noticed before. Sofia rolled her eyes, pulled up the sleeves of my shirt that were up to my inner elbow, exposing that the bruises reached far more parts of my body than only my cheek and my forearm.

"Uh uh. Not that bad, " she got up and walked with confident steps away from me, "go to the kitchen, I'll go and grab something."

I pulled the sleeves of my shirt down to cover as much of the bruises as they were able to cover. I felt more than ashamed – it embarrassed me that she had caught my bruises again. I didn't want her to worry, I didn't want to see pity in any of their eyes. At most, I didn't want them to see how weak I was during daylight, though I was so powerful at night.

I began preparing breakfast, getting out some cold cuts like cheese, sausage, jam, and chocolate cream in the small kitchen near the stairs. I was about to put knives in front of each Seat, when Sofia came back with a wet washcloth, a cool pack and a bandage. I sat down on one of the aesthetically-pleasing round chairs, and she gave me the cool pack that I put on my arm. She took the wet washcloth and ran her hand over the red spot on my cheek. I hissed in pain.

"Sorry. Did you clean them all tonight?” she asked and cleaned it carefully, "yes, when I came in," I answered, and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. The spot was sore, and ignited each time the washcloth reached its surface.

"When did you come in?" she went on, "around 5," I responded and earned a slight nod from her side. She took the bandage and wrapped it around the cool pack, "let it work for a moment. I'll come back. "

She took the washcloth that now stunk like blood to me, and went out of the kitchen.

I heard the doorframe creak and I knew it was Derek, "morning lazy ass."

I turned around and he frowned, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He shook his head in surprise and frowned at me, "what happened?"

He came into the kitchen and sat across from me. Sofia came back in with an ointment and a plaster in her hands.

"I had to get something for my uncle. You know that," I explained and already regretted crashing at Veronica's. I didn't want them to worry.

"But you usually don't look like that coming back," he expressed his surprise and I saw the worry in his eyes that I hated so much, "I know. My "partner" is probably more of a lone fighter."

"What do you mean?" he asked and to my luck, his worry turned now vanished as curiosity had overtaken it, "she wasn't particularly cooperative," I explained, but that wasn't enough for Derek, "what?"

"She kicked me out of the window. Such a bitch!", I bellowed and Sofia pinched me in the side, "Melea," she murmured.

"It's true!" I hissed, but calmed myself a little.

"How did you survive that?" he asked, but I shrugged my shoulders, "it was only the first floor. I ended up on the roof of a VW. I don't feel particularly alive, but it could've been way worse. I should be thankful."

Sofia smeared the cream on the open spot on my cheek. I hissed again when she touched the wound, "I don't understand why you're still helping him," she murmured and the pressure she applied on my cheek empathised the words she was saying.

"It doesn't matter now. I did it again and that had consequences. "

As I was about to make a sandwich with strawberry jam, I heard how the front door was unlocked and closed again. Veronica came into the kitchen with a beaming smile, "Morning!", she hugged Sofia and me from behind and then went to Derek, "Good Morning," she whispered and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled into the kiss, "morning Beautiful."

"Eww," Sofia looked down, "that's worse than every sitcom."

Veronica laughed slightly. She turned around to see our faces, but her laugh vanished when she saw my cheek and the bandage on my arm.

"Oh my god Melea, what happened to your face?", she shrieked, but I gestured her with my other arm to calm down, "she had to get something for her uncle again," Derek answered for me.

"And that happened because...?", she pointed at my arm and face, "my partner has no sense of what 'being in a team' means," I hissed, and picked up my toast again.

"Did you recognize her?" Veronica hung the key up next to the front door and came back in, "no, she was masked," I meanwhile murmured.

"Does it hurt much?", she looked at me sympathetically, "no, it's fine," I smiled and Sofia put the plaster on my cheek, "I don't want that," I bellowed and pulled it down from my cheek. Sofia tried to put it back down on the wound, but I refused it with my hands, "then explain to your mom how that happened," she said with an eye roll, but I still took the plaster from her hands, stood up and threw it in the trash can, "I'll find another way to hide it."

Sofia frowned, "mhm, sure."

"I'll cover it up for you," Veronica sighed and ran out of the kitchen, only to come back a few moments later with concealer and other makeup products.

"What did you have to get?" Derek asked, and his voice was filled with curiosity.

"Some casket. There's some business deal papers in there."

"And did you find it?", he added, but I shook my head, "nope."

"Maybe that's a sign. A sign that you should stop," Sofia interjected quietly with a begging look on her face. I said nothing and finished my toast. We've had this conversation too many times for me to still trying to explain to them why I was helping him. I didn't expect them to understand, no one did. But I knew in my heart that I could not bear refusing to help.

The rest of the breakfast was not about 'my order' anymore.

"Where were you by the way?", I asked Veronica while putting the plates in the dishwasher at the time we were finished with breakfast, "I had to pick up something for my parents. Who will be back in," she looked at her phone, "an hour."

"So we should get going?", Sofia finished her sandwich right this second, "you can stay, but its twelve o'clock and I know your mum Melea. You may want to tell her that you slept over here."

"12pm?", I startled, "yeah. Text her?"

I thanked her silently and got out my phone and opened Messages.

"Why were you sleeping in the guest bedroom anyway? I told you that could sleep in my room," she went on and cleaned the table. I turned to Derek and crossed my arms, "I know, I wanted to. But then, Derek came in."

"Yeah and the sound of the two of you together is horrible. You sound like groaning..." I hit Sofia against the upper arm, "Sofia!", she answered with an eye roll, "what it's true."

"We should really get going," I stood up and put last plate in the dishwasher. We went upstairs to Veronica's bedroom and the guest room to pack up the rest of our things. After I closed my bag I went into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth quickly.

"I should have been home two hours ago, you know my mum, " I explained Sofia my impatience, then took my cosmetics and slipped them into my pocket in Veronicas room.

"Calm down, I can drive you," Veronica rolled her eyes behind me, but grinned a little at the fact that I was the only one of us four who still didn't have her driver's license.

"Your car is still getting repaired," I reminded her, closing the rose-Prada cosmetic back, "oh still?"

"Yeah until Monday afternoon," I added and Sofia chuckled as I, again, knew Veronica's appointments better than herself. She was a little forgetful at times.

"Oh."

Sofia looked down at her phone for a moment, before asking "can I stay here, Veronica? I forgot my key and my parents won't be home till 6."

Veronica nodded as a response. Derek, who leaned on the door and crossed his arms, now joined the conversation, "I'll bring you with the motorcycle."

I gave him a grateful look, and he gestured me to the stairs, "are you coming?"

"I'm home!" I screamed as I unlocked the front door and slammed it shut again. I got no response.

Maybe she had sent me a text message? Or called?

I went into the living room and searched in the drawers for a charging cable. As my phone and the charging cable joined together as one it turned on right after, and the typical sound of the iPhone vibration was set off as a sign of an unanswered message or call. I opened Messages.

When are you coming home? I'm at Payton's. - Mum

Forgot the time, sorry! I'm home now. - Melea

Of course she wasn't home. And even if she was, she wasn't really here. So I shouldn't care anyway. But I cared.

I turned on the TV and scrolled through the programs until I found the only program where a good movie was playing. I let that program on and looked down at my phone after a while, as the date on it let my thoughts wander off.

2:11pm

Sunday, September 21.

My cousin's birthday was in four weeks. Oh, birthdays.

I didn't like birthdays.

I didn't understand the concept of birthdays, I never had.

Nobody wanted to get older. Human kinds were trying to escape age when they were still in their youth.

No one could escape their age. And yet, every year we celebrated the day when we got older. Was it simple human stupidity or were we may scared that we would be forgotten otherwise?

I would miss Lydia on October 21st. It wasn't the first time for me not being with her on that day. When we were younger, we used to always drive to my father's hometown to celebrate her birthday together. We used to celebrate it as if it would be the greatest event of the year. She had spent the last four years without me on that day. And since then, the concept of Birthdays meant even less to me.

My phone screen vibrated and I looked down.

Can I drop by? I put my keys in your purse last night –Veronica, my home screen was telling me, and after a quick, sure, I already earned her response of I'll be there in half an hour.

I quickly walked upstairs to my room and threw the auburn bag I had brought with me to Veronica's on my bed. My room wasn't what you would call a show-off room. But personal was something else as well. Though it was rather personal than cold, it had no specific touch to it either. It used to have, but after the incident I had torn the pictures of my walls apart, and burned down the clothes that reminded me off it. Now, it was just a mess – a typical, in-between room. I couldn't decide between personalizing it again, or cleaning it up to make it a typical bedroom out of a magazine. It had the potential. But I preferred personalized rooms. Yet, personalizing things was hard for me.

The hot shower had splashed some of the pain away – my bruises felt cleaner, nicer, as if they were healing rather than getting worse. My body had a hard time fighting off bruises that grazed the skin, and I was proud that they seemed to get better already. I wrapped myself in a Kimono, and left my hair natural, expect a quick brushing through. I heard the doorbell and rushed down the door "come in. "

Veronica took off her shoes and the olive-coloured jacket and looked at me with a longing look, "I'm hungry."

"Pizza?", I suggested her favourite of all time, and she smiled in response, "Margarita, please."

I grinned and walked towards the dresser to pick out the card for the delivery service, while Veronica sat herself down in the living room. Our house was way too great in size for my taste, a walk to the corridor between my parents' bedroom and the second bathroom felt like an hour-long walk. I preferred houses over apartments, but if houses were too large, they were usually more impersonalized. And our house wasn't an exception. Most pieces of the furniture's were grey, black, dark blue and white. Pretty basic colors. Some colorful furniture pieces that we had in the house, like the two pieces of art on the wall next to the spiral staircases, set a clear contrast to the other quite basic-color furniture. Nothing else really stood out in this house – it was the house rich people searched in magazines for. That was a reason why the welcoming feeling of being home didn't always occur to me when I entered the property. And though my father tried to make it more personal by decorating the walls with art works, he did not spend enough time on it to make it actually "home-alike".

My father was a workaholic - he loved his job almost as much as he loved the two of us. If he needed help, my mum was happy to be there for him at all times. He took over my grandfather's company, after the named one had retired at a pretty young age. Since then, my dad was on business trips or at work like it was his home, the place he drew his strength from. Somehow, he still found time for the family.

My mum wasn't different; she was the deputy head in a company my dad was working with. My dad was managing hotels and other properties, whereas my mum was an event planner for special occasions that I was forced to go to most of the time. Luckily for me, I wasn't the only one with parents that were in love with their work and business as if it was their mother-in-law. Derek, Veronica, Sofia and sometimes Kara, a friend of mine, had to show up to most events as well. Sofia's Family also led a company that was involved in event planning, which was why our parents did business together quite often. Through these events that our parents basically dragged us to, they connected us by accident, and made us depend on one another. I trusted them with my life's. Contrastingly to my family, Sofia had a brother that she loved deeply as well – her brother Jeremy was almost as kind and innocent as her. He was just a year younger than us, but was so mature and cared so deeply about Sofia that I sometimes felt like he was older than me. Turned out age was only a number in some instances.

"You don't know how much I needed this," Veronica said after finishing her last piece, and I agreed, though I was so full, I could barely sit straight.

"I miss summer," she suddenly murmured and I chuckled in response, "it's hasn't even been a full two months since school started."

"But when was the last time we had such a beautiful summer? The house of Sofia's uncle we stayed in, the lake nearby and the pool in the garden, the feeling of all responsibility gone," she went on daydreaming and I agreed with a slight nod, "it was."

Veronica sighed, "please, let's go back when we get the chance?"

I smiled, "promise."

"What time is it?", Veronica asked, and I bend my head to my phone on the sofa spot next to the one I was lying on.

9:00pm.

"I should go," she mumbled as soon as she read the time, moving up from the couch and turning the TV off, "and you should get some sleep. Derek and Sofia probably didn't even let you sleep until ten."

"Yup, I had till nine-thirty," I replied, my eyes half-closed. I was surprised my body had made it through the day. I was proud of myself – I had grown strong.

Veronica grabbed her phone and the white-coloured purse, "are you going to the Charity gala?"

"You know my parents so the answer is yes," I folded the blanket to put it next to the sofa while asking, "who's going?"

"I think we all are," she stated and I added, "what do you even wear to this kind of event?"

"I don't know, but it isn't until Spring, so you have time to figure it out," she took my folded blanket and put it on the corner of the sofa.

"It's the only event of the year I'm actually excited for," I admitted and blushed, "it was so beautiful last year, with the decorations, the lighting and the flowers..." enthused Veronica.

"It was one of my year highlights after all," I confessed, and expected a backlash, but she nodded in response, "I feel like it's going to be so beautiful. Sofia told me they ordered over 100 different kinds of flowers."

"They're helping to organize?", I was surprised. They had never sponsored, nor organized before.

"Her mum does. Don't know what exactly though," she explained, and looked back at her phone and I saw the familiar Uber sign on the display.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said goodbye and she hugged me quickly, "see you love."

Then she ran out of the wide entrance of my house to find her driver. I closed the door, and heard my mum's car coming. I was too tired for a confrontation, I was craving for sleep.

I took two stairs at once to decrease the time I spend away from my bed, closed the curtains when I arrived and shut the door. I didn't even care to change, I stayed in the velvet Kimono with the weird loop. I wouldn't see a single soul dressed like this anyway.

I plugged my laptop charging cable into the socket and lied down, with the soft blanket wrapped around my body. I heard my parent's downstairs laughing and smiled.

And for the first time since Summer, I fell asleep before counting to ten.

_____________________________________________________

"Soulmates catch each other with their eyes." - Ventum

__________________________________________________________

The crimson-coloured bus rocked from side to side as it travelled further down the familiar road I lived by. I hear chatter coming out of it, and determined after a short investigation with my ears as a helper that it were the chatty senior girls that usually sat in the front. One of the younger kids looked out of the window, and investigated the road outside as if it was a wonder each morning.

And just like that, I saw the bus passing by, as it left its own way and distanced the two of us even further.

I had missed it again. Like every morning.

Hastily, I began to run further up the streets, where most taxis drove by. I saw from the corner of my eye that one of the well-paid cars and waved. To my own luck he pulled over, and I quickly opened the door to enter my rescue, "Carolwood," I uttered and he nodded in response, while his car already wandered over the road.

The taxi stopped near the front gate of my school at 8:25AM. Thank god. Coming late to literature class was like signing your own death contract.

I ran out so fast that I forgot to take back my change after I had paid off the driver. I sighed deeply. So, no lunch for me. Great.

Blue skinny jeans weren't the most comfortable to run in, but at least they made it seem as if I looked like I cared. The light brown boots made squishy noises as the hallway had just been whipped, and the thin, long silver necklace that laid on my neck tangled itself, until the bottom part disappeared under my black top.

8:29AM. Derek was just about to close the door as I approached it. Judged by the way he looked at me, I probably looked like I just ran a mile. And though it were just a couple of meters it felt like one whole mile.

"You missed your bus again?" he asked as if he didn't know the answer, which was why he earned an eye roll from my side and a simple "you know how I am in the morning."

He smirked, "come on in."

I quickly squeezed myself through the space between him and the door, and earned a mad glance from the teacher, but then I sat down and his gaze wandered away from me.

"Today, we're going to start with the Scarlet letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne" the teacher commenced the start of the lesson, but a strong frown grew on my face. Hadn't we read that already?

The teacher noticed my confusion, "some of you may read it over the summer. You can start with Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. The other half will continue with this book."

I turned around and saw Derek rolling his eyes. He hated reading. Or writing. Literature class in general.

"Tell me why I've chosen this class?" he asked me, and his face reflected the emotions behind the words he was saying.

I only grinned in response, but suddenly Derek stared at me for a moment, without saying words, and then looked down at my eye bags, "did you have that dream again?"

I nodded nervously. I didn't like anyone to know. I didn't like to seem weak. Or vulnerable. And in nights like these, I was.

Derek sighed suddenly, and I remembered that I was sitting in class and not in my bed during one of these nights of nightmares, "Melea, you know you can call me. Whenever you need to."

I smiled gratefully, but was interrupted in commencing an answer by a mad teacher, "Mrs. Aldridge, is there anything you want to tell the whole class or can we continue with the content?"

"I'm sorry that I wasn't paying enough attention," I mumbled and faked an apologetic look that grazed my face for a while, "I will focus more."

"Listen, instead of talking to your friend," he replied more calmly, but the mad look on his face only grew stronger. As if these books were his only joy in life.

I pretended to nod in agreement and forced a smile, "you're right. I wasn't trying to distract anyone. I'm sorry."

"Well, now that this is cleared up," he smiled satisfied and turned around to the board, "let's talk about the historical background of these books, shall we?"

"I hate that book. The entire story about love and infatuation is boring and way too unrealistic for the real world," I whispered to Derek and closed the book. The bell rang, announcing the end of this horrifying lesson.

"Please read until page 45 and take notes on the character's expressions and the figure of speech," the teacher shouted, as people were already walking out of the tiny room. I glanced at Derek and he followed me out of the room and into hallway.

"Have a little imagination, Melea," he took his phone out of his jeans and started texting someone.

"When you're in love, everything in that book makes sense," he said that while a slight smile appeared on his face, and I raised an eyebrow, "is that what Veronica just told you?" I asked, and gestured to his phone.

"No, we kind of broke up this morning,” Derek answered, but as he knew the kind of reaction I would have he increased his speed level, but it wasn't hard to follow him. Someone had forgotten I was quite a fighter at night.

"Again?" I groaned, as Derek further increased his speed level, "just admit that you need each other and move on."

Derek stopped letting me chase him, and instead walked in a calm and slow way, "but she can be so narcissistic. I mean it. I just need some space."

"Okay, that's your call then," I looked down at my phone screen as it had just been vibrating, but looked at the time instead of the actual message; the break was too short to keep on discussing with Derek about his and Veronica's non-ending feuds, "I have math, I'll see you later."

"Wait, did you pick up the documents from the secretary office?" Derek interrupted my attempt to come at least to my math class on time. I groaned and buried my face in my hands, "Ugh right. No, I didn't."

"You should go now then. You know how your mum freaks out when she doesn't have every single thing together," he said with a slight smile, and I grinned in response, "you're right. Thanks for reminding me."

"Someone has to look out for you," he responded as I already turned around, when he added something, "you don't do it yourself."

I ran past the students, all of whom were too loud for me, and above all, too many. The school hallway seemed to have been designed by one obsessed with grey and white. Well, that were most people in this town anyway. No other color seemed to graze the walls. Some of the teachers and students had done their part by hanging up colourful posters, of events, art pieces or other beautiful work.

Keeping the focus on this rather than on the crowd around me calmed me, and as I squeezed past some more near the teacher's wing, the shouting and general rambling stopped as I reached the reception. Silence.

I looked around. In front of the reception, which laid directly in front of the principal's office, were some white chairs set up for students to wait. I shall sit down there and wait, shall I? Or should I approach her directly?

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" the slightly chubby secretary looked at me questioningly when I reached her desk as I had chosen Option 2. I smiled and took a few steps forward, facing her directly, "I'm here to pick up the forms for my parents. We haven't gotten them yet."

"Oh yes. Melea Aldridge, is it?" she asked and pushed up her leopard-patterned glasses, "yes," I answered, and empathised it by a short nod.

"Just let me see where I put them," she flipped through the big pile of paper lying around her desk, and after a while, they seemed to be even more disorganized as she rummaged through, put some of them apart and some others together, and in general, made the chaos worse. After a while, she seemed confused as she was staring down at the big mess she had made, but it seemed as if she had an epiphany – she rummaged through one of the Piles and took some documents out.

"Here you go, these are your forms. I'm sorry that you didn't get them earlier, we've had problems with the printer for ages. The old thing just doesn't really work anymore."

I responded with a nod, took the forms out of her hands and was about to leave the office, when the door opened with a creak noise and someone else entered the room. My eyes moved from his seemingly new-polished shoes to his dark jeans and up to a white shirt, with the first two buttons left open, that led my eyes wander off to his face. His hair was in a darker brown tone and completely dishevelled. The eyes dark, as if they hid unusual darkness inside of them, with a spark of life. He studied me for a moment, then walked past me and looked at the secretary, who threw one piece of chocolate after another in her mouth.

"Margot, you look great today," he greeted her. Margot?

If I wouldn't have been so perplexed, I could have prevented my frown, which was followed by his quiet remark. The secretary, visibly happy, smiled, "oh, Taylor. Here's your card. Please try not to lose it a second time in your first week, " she grabbed a student card from a folder she apparently just had right in front of her and handed it to him.

"It just slips out of my hand again and again," he winked and my frown grew stronger.

I tried to turn away and instead go through the forms, which I had gotten after a long search through piles of documents. Apparently, I hadn't had my own folder like some other students.

"Sorry, but I'm missing Form 4," I interrupted the conversation between the two, and the secretary's head shelled in my direction, "oh," she replied with a desperate look on her face. She ran her hands through her hair and added, "I'm sorry, dear. I'll try to print it out this afternoon, but I cannot promise anything. You know, the printer. "

Yes, the 'printer'.

I just nodded in response and noticed that "Taylor" gave me a quick gaze, and then a smile grew on his face. Oh, someone really knew about his good looks.

I looked away from his dark eyes, smiled reassuringly at the secretary and left the room to run to class. At the other end of the hall, I opened the door, where about twenty-two students greeted me with their loud bawls.

I sat next to Sofia and threw my bag next to the chair, "are you coming to the Charity Gala?", she asked me, right when I sat myself down, "yes," I responded shortly, as she already went on saying, "it was beautiful last year, wasn't it?"

I was pulling out my book and notebook as we talked, and therefore only nodded quickly, "why didn't you go though?" I asked when I finished unpacking, "I don't know, didn't feel like going after the whole thing with Kyle and Hannah," she mumbled and looked down.

Kyle Ewell. As his name already stated, he wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to be involved with. Even though he was a pretty decent guy - polite, pretty wealthy and good locking with his blonde hair and the blue-green eyes, I could never think of him the way every other one saw him. The way Sofia still saw him. She never had luck with guys – she chose the wrong one's. Well, he was quite the wrong one for sure. As they were dating during the beginning of the year and moved further into deepening their relationship, he cheated on Sofia with Hannah, his now-new girlfriend.

Wouldn't be as much of a problem if we would just be from different places. But he was not only in our grade and therefore we were forced to seem him nearly every day, his parents also had quite a good reputation, causing him to be invited to most of the events we were going to.

"It's fine Melea," she murmured as I had hugged her. She shook me off, but I knew that she was still hurt. But as always, she was too nice to admit it.

Sofia was actually everybody's darling. With the bright blonde hair and the brown eyes that reminded me of all the good in the world, she was a sparkle of hope for so many people. She had, by definition, a genuine, kind soul.

My math teacher commenced the lesson with an introduction that made us students groan, "Math Exam next week. Please open your books at page 167, we'll need to do the exercises on that page at least."

The school hallway looked different than this morning. Not only were there more posters helping these halls to shine in their best possible way, but there was art work hung up all around the halls. Was there an art exhibition I did not know about? What were their works about?

These were the questions I was asking myself as I squeezed past even more students than this morning. To focus on something. There were still too many of them, and not enough space. Narrowing scared me.

As I arrived near the reception it got less and less. Relief streamed through my veins, until I realized I probably would have to wait for the secretary to get the form for me. I groaned. I hated to stand while I was waiting; it was exhausting and boring. But there were chairs there, weren't they? I could sit down and tipple with my feet on the ground to get over the waiting time.

As I turned around the last corner, I realized that someone has had the same thought - a brown-haired guy, not much older than me, with a white Shirt and new-looking shoes already sat there, flipping through a magazine. I stopped walking for a moment, as I was trying to figure out what kind of magazine he was reading, but I could not identify the name.

He must've realized that I had gazed at the magazine, because now he looked up and straight into my eyes. The Margot-guy.

"Ah, Melea!" the secretary turned her face into my direction, as she had felt my presence somehow. Maybe due to Taylor's scrutinizing gaze – they seemed to have quite a close relationship to one another.

"Wait a bit, I'll print it right away," she went on, interrupting my sudden thoughts and I chuckled, followed by a nod as I sat down on one of the chairs next to him. Taylor closed the magazine with the colourful cover and put it back onto the table on which more of them were laying on.

"Seems like the printer is really bothering you," were the first words he was saying to me, "mm, yes. The printer," I replied, and my words were filled with sarcasm.

He chuckled, "I'm Taylor," I didn't look him in the eyes, I only replied with "I know." I didn't know what to think about this guy.

"Don't worry Taylor, you don't have to wait much longer," the secretary interrupted our conversation, but he just smiled brightly, "don't stress yourself Margot, I don't mind."

"Wow you can call her by her first name. I didn't even know she had one until you called her that this morning," I added and his eyes went back to me.

A non-genuine smile graced the corners of his mouth, "if teachers don't like you very much, you at least must be the staff's favourite."

"Problems with teachers in the first week. So, you're planning on getting suspended? " I assumed, and he winked, "no, but there is a slight possibility that I make a few remarks teachers do not really appreciate."

"Why did you transfer then?", I asked further and he leaned forward, "to broaden my horizons," he replied, but I raised an eyebrow, "and why here?"

"Maybe I like the atmosphere of interrogation," he whispered and I leaned my head to the side for a moment, "do you ever answer a question honestly?"

"If I ever learn to trust you," he winked, and I lost myself in his eyes. Weird. Eyes were the mirroring the soul of one. So, what did his eyes show me?

"Taylor, the principle wants to talk to you. Don't worry, it'll just take a couple minutes," the secretary interjected, and all of a sudden, another forced smile graced his face.

"Another interrogation. Maybe she'll be luckier than you, "with these words, he got up and left his seat.

"Melea, I have your missing form," the secretary shouted, but I barely heard what she said. I was lost in my thoughts.

I had never seen such a fake smile.

_______________________________________________________

Eccedentesiast - someone who hides pain behind a smile.