|Dear Aiden|Justin Bieber|

Homecoming. I dreaded it. Not only was I a terrible dancer, but I usually ended up trading in my kitten heels for a pair of Doc Martins before I even walked out the door. The thing about homecoming in Texas is they have these things called mums. They’re kind of like giant placing ribbons with bells and noisemakers on them…that’s pretty much the only way I can explain it. If you don’t know what a mum is, then just look it up. That’s what they made websites like Google and BING for. The whole point of homecoming was to see who had the biggest and loudest mum. Gator made me a mum, so I had to make him a garter, which is basically the same thing but they go on the arm. I still hate dances, though. My first dance was in middle school, I was in the 7th grade. The year where cheating on your girlfriends and boyfriends to gain a reputation was all the rage. I dumped punch on my date’s shirt.

I hadn’t planned on attending the home coming dance, but the captain of the football team insisted that I go with him. Andrew, whom we called Gator for reasons unknown, is my best friend. He’s like a big brother to me.We met my sophomore year when we were in the same language class. He barely passed American Sign Language. I honestly don’t think he would have if I hadn’t helped him. Luckily, we were both put in the same German class together.

I stood with my back against the tile pillar catty cornered to the front desk and flipped through the pictures on my camera. I’d taken photography every year. It just doesn’t get old to me. Plus, the teacher usually just gives us our cameras and sends us off into the hallways of the school to take pictures. I sighed and turned the camera off and let if fall to my chest as it hung from the neck strap.

I looked to my right and noticed Berkeley making a bee line straight for where I stood.  She stopped in front of me and kneeled over, resting her hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breathe.

“What is it, B?” I asked, “is there something wrong?”

She shook her head, still out of breath.

“Was there an accident and you need me to come photograph the casualties?” I said, jokingly.

She rolled her eyes at me and opened her mouth to speak, “Have you been to the gym today?”

“No. Not today. I already took photos of the homecoming pep rally set up,” I replied nonchalantly, confused by her sense of urgency.

Suddenly, she clutched a fist full of my shirt in her hand and began pulling me through the school. She dragged me down two flights of stairs, to the ground floor, and through the long winding hallways of the athletic wing.

“Berkeley what’s the matter with y--,’ I started but was interrupted by a hard push in the back as I went flying through the double doors and into the gym.

The gym smelled like sweat and men’s cologne and full of football players. A few were shooting hoops and a few were just sitting in the bleachers. That’s when I saw Gator. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t notice him first. He stands at about 6’4” with an athletic build and blonde curly hair, that was soaked with sweat at the moment. I could probably be mistaken for a kindergartner standing next to him at my mere height of about 5’3”.

He was directly in front of me in just two bounds of his long legs with his arms wrapped tightly around me as he squeezed the life out of me.

“Hey A, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in photography class?” He asked excitedly.

“I’d tell you….if I could breathe,” I huffed, my fragile bones being crushed by his grip.

“Oh sorry,” he chuckled and set me back down on my feet and I stumbled a little as the blood began flowing through my limbs again.

“I was dragged down here by Berkeley,” I stated, motioning to the door that I had been pushed through.

“Well, where’s Berkeley?” He asked, looking behind me.

I turned around quickly to look, Berkeley was MIA. I’m going to kill that girl, I thought to myself.

Suddenly I heard a door slam from across the gym and I spun around to look, thinking maybe it was Berkeley.

“Sorry, I forgot that these doors slam hard,” said the voice of a teenage boy that didn’t seem familiar. I leaned to the side to look around Gator.

There, in a white V-neck and black skinny jeans was America’s most wanted teen sensation. It took a double take and blinked a few times before I realized that I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating.

The first time I ever heard of Justin Bieber was my freshman year. I was in keyboarding class and two girls were cooing back and forth across the room about something or another.

“Oh he’s so adorable!” one had said.

“I know! And he’s our age!” the other had swooned.

I’d leaned over my computer desk and tapped one on the shoulder, “Um, who are you guys talking about?”

“Justin Bieber. He’s this kid they found on the internet and now he’s famous. He’s freakin’ adorable!” She’d answered.

Right now, I was standing less than 100 feet from the boy that any other girl in the school would have tackled down .5 seconds ago.

“Oh hey, JB. This is the girl I was telling you about!” Gator called out to him, motioning for him to come over.

“What did I tell you about talking about me behind my back?” I said, stomping on Gator’s foot with my heel.

“Ow! I’m sorry!” he whined, quickly grasping his now throbbing foot.

“It was all good things, I promise,” Justin said, smiling and pulling up his pants.

“They better have been,” I said, glaring at Gator who had recovered from the damage I had done to his foot.

“Oh hey, I want you to wear my away jersey tomorrow, it’ll go great with your mum,” he said, changing the subject.

“Since when do you have fashion sense?” I remarked.

“I’ll go get it,” he said, obviously not noticing my jab at his pride as he headed towards the bleachers.

I looked at Justin and smiled, holding out my hand, “Hi, I’m Aiden. Nice to meet you.”

He looked at me slightly confused before he shook my hand, “Justin.”

“So what brings you to town?” I asked.

“Someone who works for me has a daughter who goes here and wanted me as her date. I’m always willing to do a favor for someone on the team,” he smiled.

“Oh, well that nice of you,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m also supposed to sing the national anthem before the game. Are you going to be at the pep rally tomorrow?” He asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but if you want me to,  I will,” I offered, realizing that he probably didn’t really know anyone else in the school.

“Yeah that’d be great,” he said just as Gator came to stand with us again, his white and crimson away jersey in his hand and the bell rang. He handed me the jersey quickly.

“You’d better get to the locker room with the boys before you get attacked by a mob,'' I joked with him.

“Yeah…” he said, staring at me as I walked away and out the door.