WIP

Prologue - FROM THE TOP

It all started on the third day of April, back in 2002. I remember that because I'm good with dates - both literally, and the dates that I go to. I don't go on a lot of them, but that's not the point here. The point here is that this story starts with the first day of school. The strange thing is that I didn't have the slightest clue how it was going to end.

Back in kindergarten, we had nap time at around 11 every morning. Those were the days. Honestly, I'd give absolutely anything to have that time back.

As I lay down onto my mattress in the corner of the room, I looked at the people on the floor on both my sides. What caught my attention was one of the prettiest girls I had seen since I laid foot on this planet. Thing to keep in mind, I wasn't even five years old, so everything around me was quite interesting as it was. But this girl, she was something... different. The way she looked at me made me conscious of the way I looked, even though I was pretty sure I looked fine. Suddenly, my bubble burst.

"You're so weird, Matt", she says to me, staring right into my eyes. Okay, I was right. She's really pretty.

"What...", I mumble, dumbfounded. This is extraterrestrial contact for me. I hardly ever talk to girls. I'm a four year old kid who's scared the other kids will make fun of him if he talks to girls for even a second.

"You don't have eyelashes", she says. She, on the other hand, doesn't seem shy at all. She's rather cool about the fact that she's talking to a boy. Maybe she knows it's making me feel awkward. Maybe she's enjoying it.

"I know", I reply. She knows my name. This is getting scary. I've been told not to talk to strangers. What if she kidnaps me? Wait, she's my age and a bit smaller in size. Plus she's a kid who's napping, anyway.

"I pluck them out," I say, "You know, to make wishes".

"You're weird", she declares.

What surprises me is that nobody around is able to hear us talk. Then I realize everyone's already fast asleep. How long have we been talking?

"Why're you staring at me?", she asks, but she doesn't look annoyed. She's somewhat interested in talking to me. This is so different from talking to boys, I think to myself. I've never felt this shy talking to anybody. Maybe that's because I've never really found anyone pretty, or maybe it's because the only other person from the other gender I talk to is my mom. Who knows. I'm barely five, I certainly don't. If I think about it, the best thing to happen to me all day was when I saw my best friend, James, wear pink nail paint to school for the first day.

What didn't occur to me was that this might be the girl I would end up hating for no apparent reason for the next five years, only to fall for her so hard that I wouldn't be able to get back up and out of it any time in the next century. And that she could be going through the same ordeal altogether.