Wish We Could Turn Back Time m.c

Chapter 12

michaelgclifford1995@aol.com: uh, hey? My name's Michael and you probably already know who I am because you entered an art contest to win tickets for my show? Or maybe you just like to draw. Anyway, I loved your drawing and thought it actually deserved to win, cause honestly I wanted to meet the person who drew it. The meaning behind it really touched me. This was the contact information that the charity had from your entry, so maybe I can meet you anyway sometime? Reply if you want.
-Michael :)

I leaned back in my desk chair, giving myself time to process what I just read. Is someone pranking me? You wouldn't think the charity would even give out information from the entries... But Michael Clifford...

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a minuet before deciding to type a reply. I had to be careful about this.

TwentyOneSecondsOfSummer@gmail.com: um, hey? To you as well. How am I supposed to know you're the real Michael Clifford? I'm gonna need some proof. Thanks for liking my drawing though. I wanted to win the contest too. I was going to meet a close friend there.

Send. I didn't know how this guy was going to prove he's actually Michael Clifford. The probability of it actually being him is small, but I'll see I guess.

It was well into April now, and things were the same at school. Rumors and bullying, curtesy of Charlotte, were still going strong. A couple of days ago, a few girls even came up to me asking me the strangest thing.

"Palmer, is it true that you tried to kiss Lance right in front of Charlotte? What a slutty thing to do."

"What? No!" Was my obvious answer.

"Oh, well Charlotte said that's why Al and Lance got in a fight. Because Lance shoved you off of him and your friend didn't like it." She tried to suppress a giggle, clearly not believing me.

"Well, no. That's not true," I stepped around them in the hallway and hurried off to my next class with my head down.

"How pathetic," I heard the girl say to her friend before they both cracked up laughing. How do people even believe this crap that Charlotte makes up?
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Al's POV
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I went to prop my head head up with my elbow on my desk, before I remembered how bad of a black eye I had and jumped at how much it hurt to touch my face. What was I thinking? How could a guy like me win in a fight against the star player of the football team? The guy must work out constantly. I might have busted his lip open a bit, but he bruised my eye so bad that it still hasn't healed after almost three weeks.

It just made me so mad that he would shove Lacey like that! I had to do something! But again, it was all for nothing since Lacey is now pushing me away more than ever before. I think all the bullying that's going on at school is really getting to her cause it's like back when we first met, she barely talks to me. I try every day to start a conversation and I've told her that I'm here for her and if she can talk to anyone, it's me, but she just won't listen. Maybe it really is time to give up now. Lacey will never like me back, and I'd rather get out of her life if she can cope easier without me. Anything to make her happy.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class and the end of the day. On the walk home, we were both silent, except for me when we got to my house where she kept on walking.

"Bye, Lace! See ya tomorrow!" I called to her, trying to sound as cheery as possible. She raised her hand in a small wave in response. I sighed before digging my house key out of my pocket and letting myself in the house.

"Alexander!" Some of my younger siblings who get out of school earlier than I do squealed upon my entering. I've tried to break my family's habit of calling me by my first name, but they persist.