1. Twilight Cliche? Absolutely Not!

Running late for class, Caitlin bumps into a stranger. And then they meet. "I turned around and half-smiled at him, stretching my hand out. I was careful not to look at his eyes directly. Something about him screamed dangerous to me."

There are two things I hate during Monday mornings:

1. Being late for class,

and

2. Running late for class.

So you could imagine my frustration as I ran down the hallways of Monroe High School, heading for my English classroom. I could feel the sweat and the heat beneath my wrinkly blue blouse that I struggled to get into, and I’m sure my blonde hair was wild and frizzy with the wind howling against my body. I rounded a corner and almost bumped into something walking by.

Ah, I mean someone walking by.

“Hey, watch it!” I shouted when my left foot almost slipped.

The person didn’t even apologize or anything, so I turned around to glare. It is known that my glares are harder than diamonds.

When I turned my head around, my glare faltered in response to the hard sea blue eyes that were glowering back at me. I forgot to breathe from the fear I felt.

So I looked back, rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, and launched myself toward the end of the hallway. I steadied my breath for a moment and glanced to my side before grabbing the doorknob to my English classroom.

You’re not in a horror story, so just forget about him, I told myself.

I nodded and twisted the knob, opening the door slightly in hopes that I’d get inside without my teacher’s notice.

“Miss Stone, what a relief it is to have your presence.” Mr. Plume said casually.

But his narrowed eyes were anything but casual.

“I’m sorry, sir. The alarm didn’t go—”

“I don’t need excuses. Just sit down.” He ordered exasperatedly.

I winced, and felt every eye turn toward the backdoor, and straight toward me. My shoulders hunched in embarrassment and I subtly looked around to find a seat. The only empty one was the seat near the window—dusty, rickety, and behind Jude Taylor.

Jude Taylor is a fat boy who likes to sleep in class and eat peanuts—enough said.

Mr. Plume watched me through his thin eye glasses that seemed too small for his pumpkin of a head. It wasn’t just a joke on names when students call him ‘Mr. Plump’ behind his back.

“Okay, now, bring out your textbooks and let us review the wonders of Metaphors!”

Groans and grumbles filled the classroom, until Mr. Plume brought out his black notebook. His bloated appearance isn’t the only thing scary about him. See, whenever he brings out that notebook, it only means one thing: Total and Utter Embarrassment a.k.a. reciting in class. Mr. Plume has this knack of picking out a student and questioning him/her with the one question they don’t know.

“Turn your books to page 40…”

I reached under my chair and searched my bag for the small, fat English book. When I sat up, I saw something blue and moving through my peripheral vision. Instinctively, I glanced through the window and did a double take when I saw the same guy standing in front of the big tree at the back of the school.

Surprisingly, his back looked familiar, even though it was his eyes that I saw. Maybe my subconscious took note of the blue shirt and black jeans he was wearing. Thank you, subconscious.

He seemed to be talking to someone on his cellular phone. The wind blew slightly, lifting a bit of his light brown hair, and making the leaves of the tree bristle. The light danced around him playfully. For a minute, I pretended if this could be a good opening scene for Twilight, with Bella being too curious for a figure by the tree, who turns out to be Edward—the vampire who decides to love her even if it kills both of them.

Are you crazy? I told myself, You’re not in a part of a story! Not horror, and certainly not romance!

I saw his shoulders hunch after sighing, and then he sat down by the bench beside the tree. And then two sea blue eyes looked at me.

I looked away quickly, feeling a blush creeping on my cheeks, and focused on Mr. Plume waving his hands about in front. He kept talking about a stage, players, and exits and entrances. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to keep my avid curiosity to look out the window again.

But he was gone. I squinted past the trees that lined the school boundary and past the pathway that was paved in small pebbles and rocks in hopes to see where he had gone off to. Isn’t it class time? No one should be out there.

“Miss Stone? Miss Stone!”

My eyes darted to Mr. Plume, who was narrowing his eyes at me in irritation, and smiled apologetically. This didn’t pacify him, however, but only pissed him off more.

“Please, read to the class the first 20 stanzas on your book.”

“What?” I gasped in surprise. He smirked.

“Do it, or it’s detention for you.”

Grudgingly, I complied, taking quick glances now and then at the window. I don’t if I’m doing it to check if my sanity is still intact, or if I was only searching for the boy. The former sounded reasonable enough, so I stuck with that one.

At the end of the class, I headed for my locker and took out my Biology book,

Biology with Ms. Green—how ironic, right?—is the same as always: perky and boring. Yes, the teacher may have the beauty of a rose, but her mind might as well be wrapped up in vines of biology. She’s smart and pretty, but she babbles on too much for me to listen.

So I’m really glad that the 1 and a half hour of Green ended. The lunch bell rang and I skipped to the cafeteria. I grabbed a plate of lasagna, a can of coke, and an apple, and then searched for an empty table.

Someone else sat down across me, plopping her tray of food. Ella Thomson smiled at me, her dimples appearing.

“Hey there, Kate!” She greeted cheerfully.

“Hey,” I greeted with a grin.

“Oh, yeah, I gave Dylan the cookies.”

“Yeah? What did he say?”

She shrugged indifferently, but obviously please and embarrassed, “He said that they tasted great.”

“Oh… good for you!” I praised, hiding my indifference.

Who cares about guys like Dylan? He’s handsome and charismatic—but he doesn’t even get a B without the help of the local nerds here. I don’t get what Ella sees in him. She deserves more than that chump.

“You’re not happy about it?” She asked, seeing through my pretense.

My eyebrows went up, feigning surprise, “Now why would you think that?”

Ella shook her head and chuckled, “One day, Caitlyn, someone will catch your eye and you’d understand.”

I frowned at her, “I don’t think that day will ever come, I totally understand everything.”

Of course, with the drama of break ups and break outs in this school, it’s hard not to understand. Besides, I’m not too giddy about having a leech following me everywhere I go, sucking my life and allowance.

“Hello, ladies.” A male voice greeted teasingly.

The seat next to me scraped the floor, and a try of food landed next to mine. Ella and I looked up to see our friend, Chuck Mason. He’s sort of the only guy who’s passed my quality of being a good friend. He’s cute, smart, and nice. Not like the rest.

“Oh, hey, Chuck. What’s up?” Ella asked.

“Nothing much. Just hanging out with Dylan.” He answered casually, but I could see his smirk.

“Dylan?? Oh my God!! Tell me everything!” Ella answered with enthusiasm.

Chuck glanced at me. One meaningful glance said it all. He only mentioned Dylan to make Ella happy. How foolish of him, right? Why doesn’t he just jump and tell her how she feels?

When I finished my lasagna, I began looking around to do a little people watching. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Jocks are playing catch by the biggest tables in the middle. The less blessed, students like us, crowded the outer tables, scattering like worker bees. And the least blessed—or not at all—littered at the further back.

We were also grouped by year. The first years were the ones nearest the door—the first to escape from fear or disgust or depression.

The second years are the ones nearest the middle—the ones who are still mesmerized by the popular groups or the ones who wants to be part of it.

The third years are the nearest the windows—comfortable with the beautiful scenery outside.

The fourth years are the ones who lounge outside the cafeteria, by the trees and the grass. They dominate it there.

And it’s only one more year for us before we take over that place.

After scanning the café, I didn’t find anything interesting. They’re just the same, usual, ordinary students I see every day. I could see Gary from my Biology class, talking to Maria from my Spanish class. I could see Red from the last detention I had, sitting alone at the corner. I could also see… a very familiar blue shirt.

I blinked and looked away, back to our table. Chuck was showing Ella how Dylan gave him a headlock and how Chuck easily got out of it. Ella was laughing, her dimples appearing on her blushing cheeks, her brown eyes glowing in delight. Chuck seemed to stop his story, and was only laughing with her, passing his hand through his curly blonde hair, and his dark green eyes turning a hue lighter.

“Well, then Nathan pushed Dylan away, laughing about what he teased him.”

“Nathan? You mean Nathan Chase, right?” Ella cleared.

Chuck nodded, “Yeah, he’s the one right there.”

I followed his pointing finger subtly, and found the guy in blue shirt blocking the way. I tried to look around him, but it was a group of giggling girls that followed him.

Oh. Oh.

“The guy in the blue shirt?” I asked Chuck curiously.

He nodded again, although he looked a bit confused this time, “Yeah. That’s Nathan.”

“Hey there, Chuck.” Another male voice deep, clear, teasing, greeted.

I felt a light shudder go through my arms, and my let my hair fall a little to cover a bit of my face. Ella beamed back at the greeter who was just next to Chuck.

“Nate! Hey man, what’s up?” Chuck greeted back, “Oh yeah, this is Ella Thomson. Ella, this is Nathan Chase.”

Their hands outstretched and joined in a shake, “Yeah, I know you.” Nathan said.

“Really?” Ella said in surprise.

Ella is an all-around good girl and teacher’s favorite. No teacher would ever dream of condemning her with a detention slip. She’s also a promising scientist and novelist. She’s pretty too, so almost everyone knew her.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Nathan said in a teasing tone.

“From who?” Ella asked innocently.

But before Nathan could answer, I felt Chuck’s big hand land on my shoulder.

“And this here is our group’s practical genius, Caitlin Stone.”

I turned around and half-smiled at him, stretching my hand out. I was careful not to look at his eyes directly. Something about him screamed dangerous to me. He took it wordlessly, a polite smile on his face.

We immediately took our hands back.

He turned to Chuck and said goodbye, and then to Ella, and then directed a half-smile to me.

Somehow, this pissed me off. Why is he treating me like I’m some kind of a stranger? Yes, we only just met, but he’s being nice to Ella, so why can’t he be nice to me?

And why am I getting annoyed by such a simple thing?

I glared at his retreating back while sipping my coke. Yes, definitely not a love story.

Author's Note

Please be constructive! :)