That's My Sister!

One.

Macy Snow.

I was walking down the hall with my hands covered in paint and my books and sketchbook dripping with the same when I saw him at the end of the hall; in front of my locker. I could feel my face turning bright red, butterflies invaded my stomach and something that tasted like puke came up at the back of my throat.

I had to get to my locker to get my chemistry book and my geometry homework but with him there I would forget the combination or even my name.

Griffin had that effect on people.

Griffin had that effect on me.

I froze contemplating my options;

1- Run away like the pathetic girl I am.

2- Be brave.

I chose the first option and turned around immediately; but it was not fast enough.

- Macy!

He called my name and once again I froze in the middle of the hall. I couldn't run for it, he knew i heard him calling my name. My heart was beating hard inside my chest and it felt like it would explode in any minute.

How pathetic would that death be? I could already see the header on the newspaper.

"16 YEAR OLD, MACY SNOW, DIES AFTER THE CUTE BOY SHE HAD A CRUSH ON CALLED HER NAME"

Or even worse;

"PATHETIC GIRL DIES AFTER HER CRUSH CALLED HER NAME; A PATHETIC DEATH"

Maybe Discovery Channel would do a documentary over my pathetic death so every dad on America and even around the world knew what could happen to their daughters.

Many all-girl schools would open just because of my death.

- Macy!

Once again he called my name and a new round butterflies flew on my stomach. But they didn't actually feel like butterflies; it was like a dammed circus had decided to set on my stomach. A prison fight. An alien trying to rip me open.

I heard footsteps and once again I wanted to run; my feet wouldn't respond. It was like that time on my speech like when I had to read my essay to the whole class and I vomited on my teachers purse that was seating on her desk next to the podium. I prayed to God that I wouldn't vomit this time; not on Griffin Black.

- Macy.

Came the voice again but this time it was much closer; he was standing behind me. I turned around with my face bright red, hands dripping with paint and shirt soaking with dirty paint water Chase Nichols had accidentally dropped on me.