Maciey

Prologue

I looked and there she was, walking down the school corridor. She walked alone, books in hand, and curly, bright red hair bounced along with the rhythm of her footsteps. I stared down at my black, chunky Vans, then at her bright red Converse. I was no match for such a beautiful girl. Jealousy swept over me like a breeze of autumn air. I turned and pushed open the doors to the cafeteria. I got the constant stares like always, then went to get my slop of a lunch.

I gagged as the slop of who-knows-what landed on my tray. The stench crawled into my nose faster than you could probably blink your eyes. I walked out to look for a table, and sat at a table in the far left where no one settled. My fork stuck to the breathing slop and lessened my appettite. I never ate much anyways, which would define why i was so skinny. I sighed, pushed away my lunch, and rested my head on the table.

"Hey punk," I heard a deep voice say, as they scrunched my bright blue hair and sat next to me. "Another day of no lunch or what?" The voice said. "Hm?" I managed a response. I've never spoken to anyone in school, so why would they bother to talk to me? I picked up my head and saw brown eyes. "You're pretty, you know that?" He smiled.

"Ok, I've never seen you before in my life, but all of a sudden you seem to know I don't eat lunch, and just 'assume' I'm pretty. Well guess what? I'm anything but pretty," I strained. The rings on my lip were cold as I stood up. "So what you're saying is you don't want any attention from anybody whatsoever?" He laughed. "I didn't say that at all, but yes I don't want any attention, especially from you." I walked away.

I couldn't be caught with him. Rumors couldn't spread. I only loved one person and one person only. And that was NOT him. Not him a-

"My name is Alexander, but you can call me Alex for short if you want," he shouted. "Whatever, Alex," I mumbled as I stumbled my way out of the cafeteria.

~•~

I puffed my breath as the last bell rang. I ran out of class before anyone could. I grabbed my Penny board and skated my way home. School sucked. It always will.

As I skated home, I saw her again. Her red hair covered by a beanie, and her Converse pedaling her black and white bicycle. She looked this way and I snapped my head towards the ground. She couldn't see me staring at her. Nobody could. Nothing could've been more embarrassing than her catching my stare. At least I thought. This was worse. I stumbled over my anxiety and plummeted to the ground. She got off her bike and came towards me. Her nose piercing shot a beam of light at me as she gave me her hand. Her hand. I quickly got up, brushed myself off, picked up my board, and ran out of her grasp.

When I arrived home, I ran up the stairs into my bedroom and plopped down on my bed. I didn't know whether to smile because she was there, or cry because she was there. I heard a knock. "Leo! You have a friend here who wants to see you!" My step-monster yelled in her 'sweet' motherly voice. My door creaked open and I saw a bright red head. I quickly scrambled up to fix my room the best I could and she just stood there. "You dropped this outside," she handed me a worn out spiral notebook. My freaking journal. I grabbed it and stashed it under my bed. She smiled and a shallow dimple appeared on both sides of her mouth. "My name is Maciey, just letting you know for your diary," she blushed. She read it?! Great. Now she probably figured out about my depression and my obsession over bands and my deepest secret. That I like her. I buried my face in my palms. No no no no no no no this can't be happening! Anxiety flowed through my veins and I fell to the ground, crying. "Hey, Leo, it's alright I understand," she soothed. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand anything! She sat down beside me and hugged me. She smelled like cinnamon, which made me blush. Her light fingers lifted my face. I probably looked like shit, mascara running and blue hair poked everywhere. Her ocean blue eyes locked with my forest green eyes. This wasn't a dream. My girl crush was staring at me like I stare at her, with love. The stare lasted forever. Then it happened. Her soft lips touched mine and my butterflies swelled up my stomach, burning my insides. She was kissing me. And I didn't have to make the first move. Suddenly, that first move was considered the worst move in history. The absolute WORST.