No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

no really, i'm okay

The first thing I notice when I open my laptop is how slow the internet is. I check my connection. It's fine. I only have two tabs open -- my email and Annabelle's blog.

It's all explained when I look at the blog, though. The page is blowing up with comments. I guess that picture did merit some curiosity -- Annabelle's never posted anything with her face. And even though they don't know which one in the picture is her, the readers are freaking out.

Some of them think I'm Annabelle Lee-Davis. As soon as that thought occurs, I start laughing. It's so strange to think of it like that.

Annabelle hasn't posted anything yet in regard to the questions being asked.

I know she will, though. She's way too nice to leave her readers hanging on something they get this excited about.

I yawn and stretch my body out on top of my sheets. It's around nine in the morning, I think.

I have homework to do today. Annabelle and I have to finish our story and I have a test to study for in Psychology and I have other stuff for my other classes. I don't know what the assignments are, but I think I wrote them down somewhere.

I must have.

I slip out of my bed and put my The 1975 CD on and open the window, then get my bag, which had been thrown unceremoniously into the corner of our room.

It's a soft blue backpack, with a bunch of pins scattered across the front. It's extremely worn, because I got it at the beginning of freshman year and liked it too much to get another one.

I pull my textbooks from my desk and pull my notebooks out of my backpack, then get myself situated.

I poise my hand above the space in the notebook, ready to take some spectacular notes as I read through the textbook. It's a boring section -- usually the passages I read I find fascinating.

But I muddle through it somehow. In fact, I'm just about to cross it out of my agenda book and slam my textbook shut with satisfaction when there's a knock on the door.

"It's open," I call, a bit confused. I know it's not Jenna or Jacob, because they both have keys. I know it's not Annabelle, because she's out meeting someone. I don't have any other friends that I know of that would just come to my room.

And then the door swings open and it's Sybil. Sybil is the girl in the room next door. We're not best friends, but we talk pretty often.

She dyed her hair again. It's now a bright yellow (she dyes it to match Josh Dun), which doesn't suit a lot of people (except for her and Josh, of course). It's piled in a loose, messy bun on top of her hair. It looks good with her honey skin and whiskey eyes.

"Hey, Hazel," she says brightly. Sybil is just a very bright person in general. Good in small doses.

"Hey, Sybil," I reply. She comes over and flops on my bed. "I love your hair."

"Thank you!" she beams. "I love yours."

Oh yeah. I dyed my hair. I guess we haven't seen each other as much of late.

"Thanks," I smile back at her. Sybil is just a ball of sunshine and energy, and it's pretty infectious.

"I just wanted to see if I could, y'know, hang out here for a bit?" she asks hesitantly. I nod, a little bit confused.

"Yeah, sure. Um... any particular reason, or just because?"

"My roommate is in a really bad mood, and she's yelling at someone over the phone, and it just makes me a bit uncomfortable to be there." I've met Sybil's roommate, Charlie. They are polar opposites.