Written. (JB//Complete)

Chapter 14.

Three weeks.

Three whole weeks of loneliness.

No Ryan, no James (thank God), and no Justin.

Ryan called to tell me his flight home was delayed, even postponed to a different date, two weeks later than planned.

Apparently the weather from New York to Canada was dreadful, no planes were safe to fly out. He's supposed to be coming back in a couple days though.

I haven't really been able to catch up with him about anything, only that Sophia "smashed" her audition, as Ryan said. She did great, from what I hear, and was accepted to the Little Red Dancing School dance studio, which is pretty huge because they are ranked top three in the most competitive dance schools in North America.

I haven't been able to spill to Ryan about how I've been though, my only words have been "fine" and "alright."

James still scares me to death, especially the words he left me with that night. Those agonizing words, "As well as Scarlett," indicating his presence is soon to come, or so to say. He hasn't been in my sight since then; he probably only said that to scare Justin and I off.

Like Justin can be scared off.

Speaking of Justin... Since our departure and his outrageous last words to me, he hasn't come around in a few weeks, and I've been worrying.

No, not about him, about my journal. I've been freaking out for days, wondering how the heck I'm going to get it back. I've texted him, even called him a couple times, but he never answered, not one of the hundreds of texts and voice mails I left. I stopped by his flat several times, but he hasn't answered the door either.

It doesn't make sense to me why he hates me all of a sudden. So what we're opposites? He should have seen it from the beginning like I had.

Anyways, he was the one trying to spend as much time with me as possible.

It's all his fault, not mine.

I don't think it ever got through his thick skull that I hadn't had any feelings for him like he did for me-if he even did. He probably didn't since he's a womanizer; using women as a toy, a one-off item.

Who am I to care anyway? That's right, I'm not. The only thing I care about at the moment is my journal. I cannot stress how important that book is. And I'm going to get it back one way or another.

I've forgotten all about the events that have just occurred in that last chapter I've read of A Better World Than This, due to my thoughts.

The school library is typically empty, for the only few people inside are myself, the librarian, and maybe two or three other students studying. It's lunch break and I don't feel the least bit hungry, so I skipped a visit to the cafeteria to read and relax somewhere quiet. Well, I wouldn't exactly say I'm relaxed. I'm actually pretty stressed; my grades, believe it or not, have been plummeting and it's all due to the time I've wasted trying to retrieve my journal.

My mother did find out about my recent lack of responsible attitude, and she isn't utterly satisfied with me. Neither am I, to be completely honest.

The bell rings, signalling lunch break is over. I pack up my books and exit the library to head off to my last class of the day, AP Calculus BC.

Right as I get to class, barely making it on time, I immediately sit down in my seat and take out my spiral notebook, copying the notes scribbled down on the whiteboard. I can't afford to lose any more work that I already have.

Some students give me weird looks, maybe because I'm usually the first to arrive, but I don't acknowledge the stares and continue scrawling in my notebook.