A/N: Sorry this is such a long chapter. I'd initially wrote it in a document on my laptop before publishing, and hadn't realized it would be lengthy! Anywho, enjoy ;)
A heavy sigh erupted from me as I swiftly closed the front door, escaping the hot mid-spring Florida air and enveloping the cool conditioning that I easily welcomed. Though I'd lived here for all of my life, Florida's weather was not something I particularly enjoyed. What ever the season, the temperature primarily stayed no lower than 70 degrees. Today, however, the temperature had risen to a galling 93 Fahrenheit that had me moist with sweat. I don't know about everyone else, but I'd rather not have my clothes cling to me from smelly bodily fluids.
Resisting my first instinct to march upstairs to my bathroom and shower, I strolled over to the kitchen to raid the fridge. Walking to and from school was something I'd done since freshman year of high school, though it wasn't exactly a willing gesture. An incident long ago had my mother forcing me to either hitch a ride with one of my friends, or perform the prolonged trip on my feet. Given the fact that the former was completely impossible because of my anti-social status (and honestly, shouldn't have even been an option because really, what upcoming ninth grader would have a car?!) I'd went along with walking. Really, it wouldn't have been that bad a stroll if the heat hadn't been so intense.
So, the incident that left me chugging down two glasses of water each afternoon upon returning home was one that even I question every so often. It was the last week of eighth grade and as expected, the upperclassmen of middle school were beyond ecstatic about shifting up into the big leagues. Every eighth grader on that bus, excluding myself, were filled with energy and had begun to obnoxiously pick on the lower classmen. Because I liked being by myself - and I usually tended to become invisible from the other kids - I always made sure to get to the bus earlier than anyone else so that I could get a seat in the front all to myself. That afternoon hadn't been an exception.
But then it had. I'd been tuning out the boisterous kids in the back of the bus by staring out the window, so engrossed in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed someone sitting down next to me until something hard poked me in my slim arm.
I glanced over in alarm, shocked at the intrusion of my personal space. No one had ever sat beside me before. I recognized the boy instantly. It was Branyon Cartel, a popular eighth grader who all the girls liked. His hair was long enough to fall in his pretty, golden eyes.
Not unlike most girls, I hadn't been immune to his good looks and funny personality. The crush I had on him had been established when we were in elementary school together, where he'd lent me a pencil when mine broke. Ever since then, my heart had swelled for the kid, though he'd never acknowledged me since.
"Hey, what's your name?" Branyon asked with obvious excitement coating his boyish voice.
It took me a while to figure out he really was talking to me. It was only when he gave me a curious, almost disgusted look that I was finally able to squeak out, "Ellie."
I saw him cast a quick glance to the back of the bus. "Ok. Can I ask you something?"
I could only shyly nod.
"What's your favorite color gummy bear?" There were a few snickers in the back, but I didn't pay much attention. Branyon's question had caught me off guard, and the fact that he was sitting there actually talking to me.
"Oh--I don't eat those," I replied as sadness raked through me. My body could never ingest sweet, sugary candies and foods really well. I'd always end up getting very sick, and even vomiting, whenever I ate them. The doctor had said something about a possible case of some type of reverse diabetes, though they couldn't confirm it at the time.
