Only The Girl Can See

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French. The only word to describe French...ennuyeux. That means boring. Je m'appelle Amelie. My name is Amelie. Boy, I need to stop using my French mind, it's getting irritating.

Anyway, I was sitting in French class, slowly and gradually drifting into a switched off mode, where my mind went dead. I gazed out the window, admiring the fresh, green grass that was cut just yesterday. I turned my head for a second, just to show Miss that I was concentrating (when I actually wasn't) then continued to gaze through the window. But this time, standing on the grass, was a boy, no older than me. He was dressed in a leather jacket that hugged his muscly biceps perfectly, he was also wearing black skinny jeans, and black and white Converse. His pale skin contrasted against his dark clothes, as did his hair, that swept neatly across his pale blue eyes. He stood there, staring, as I mirrored him. He made no movement, apart from the wind gently blowing his hair.

I held my gaze as long as I could, until I felt everyone's eyes caving in on me. Were they all seeing him too? I turned to Mariella. "Look at that guy outside! He's cute!" Mariella is completely boy crazy. She thinks every boy with some sort of attractiveness is some kind of male God!

"What guy?" No, I guess she didn't.

"That one, down on the grass. Don't you see him?!"

"I think you need more sleep." She tapped my shoulder and turned back to her work.

I stared out the window again, the boy still standing there, still, breathtaking, unreal. No wonder I was the only one who saw him. Was he real? If not then why did he look so vivid? So solid, clear, in a way real, but then again unreal. How?

It was eventually the end of the lesson; lunchtime. I wanted to know more about the mysterious boy who only my eyes could see.

I ran out the classroom as fast as I could to where he stood, hoping he will not have faded by the time I got there.

He stood, dark, masculine, frozen, until he spoke. "Hello. I'm Toby."

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