He's a Fanboy?!

He Says My Fanfiction is Cliché

I've always hated mirrors. And, no, not because I look at them and feel insecure. Fictional boys never fell in love with girls for their looks, so why should I obsess over mine?

I hate them because thousands of horror stories revolve around mirrors. I hate horror stories. I remember hearing my very first one--Bloody Mary--and never wanting to enter a bathroom ever again. I had to get my dad to sit in the corner when I needed to pee.

Yet still, I wake up every morning to stare at one. I look in the mirror and grab a brush, seeing the tangled mess I call my hair.

My hair is a caramel colour, naturally wavy. My skin says Caucasian, but my face features say Asian. It makes sense, my dad being Caucasian and my mom being half Filipino half Japanese.

But nobody knows where my eye colour comes from. Dad's eyes are blue, mom's were apparently brown--so how did I get light grey eyes? I guess we'll never know.

I shove the brush under my pillow, satisfied with my look. Pulling on the StarCross uniform and grabbing my bag, I walk out the door.

❤️❤️❤️

"We've reached the halfway point on our novel study book--The Tower of The Spiders--so I want to do something a little different from our usual chapter questions," Mr. James announces from the front of the room. "I want you to write a story from the perspective of any of the characters. You can write about what you think will happen next, or about a supporting character in an alternate universe; anything. As long as it is related to the story."

Another reason why I love Mr. James: He gives great assignments. "Okay, so basically we're writing fanfiction?" I ask. I glance at Brayden and see his excitement, too. He's a fanboy. He must read fanfiction.

"Precisely, Ms. Fen." He pauses like he's waiting for everything to be calm, then says, "You may have a partner."

At this point, the classroom turns into war ground. I can hear all thirty-ish chairs squeak at once as everyone gets up to get a good partner. Well, almost everyone, because (a) I plan on writing alone, and (b) Brayden's got everyone coming to him.

I usually don't enjoy writing with other people, because one of two things happen: One, the other person sucks and ruins the whole story; or Two, the other person is great and I struggle to impress them.

I have to scoot to the right on my chair because about half the class surrounds Brayden, just hoping he would choose them. Me sitting right next to him, I am physically being pushed away.

But then Callie Williams, in her bubblegum crop top, shoves aside everyone and slams her hand on his desk. I watch Brayden jump, amused. "Brayden, you'll be my partner, right?" She attempts to be seductive by pushing out her melons. It doesn't work on Brayden (I don't think it'd work on anyone other than horny middle-age men.)

"Oh--um--yeah. I'd love to--But," he stutters, probably trying to find a good excuse.

"But?"

"But I'm doing it with Annabelle!" Everyone turns to look at me.

I raise my eyebrows, lost for words. Brayden stares at me with a pleading look. I can't decide whether I should play along or refuse.

However, after an awkward moment, Luke the Blondie does for me: "Well, yeah. She's a reader. She'd probably be great at this." I sigh and simply nod. I should help a fellow fan out, anyway.

Brayden slumps with relief, and the cluster of people walk away sighing. They probably think Brayden will just use me (which is a possibility, but I'd be fine with that.)