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1. Chapter One

Chapter 1-

What does this even mean? I don't know what almost any of this means. I did expect this though. When you move half way across the country to a place you've never even visited for a trip. If I could have picked a place to live in this county -USA- I definitely wouldn't have chosen Montana. To tell you the truth, I don't know the first thing about Montana. 

It's somewhere around the beginning of the school year, it only just turned fall, so mid September. For everyone else in this class taking this test, it's basically just review. They already know this stuff. But for me, I'm stuck here looking at a bunch of random algebra equations, that makes no sense whatsoever. Get the difference?

"10 minutes left class," Mr. Bloomberg-the teacher-groaned to the class.

10 minutes? Oh god, on my first test I'm going to get an F. 

The whole test was about five pages long so it was that bad. I got to the fourth page when time was up. I mostly guessed on the questions, but I still think I did okay for not knowing what my oft his meant. 

Everyone in the class including me handed in the test to the teacher. Most of the kids either looked confident, others looking nervous like they knew they did terrible, or some just didn't seem to care. At least I wasn't the only one who doesn't feel confident. But at least I have a reason.

The bell rang almost immediately after the last person -me- handed in the test. I scrambled back to get to my assigned desk, where I grabbed all of my things. And I was once again being the short, awkward girl, and everyone else taller then me and, well, not awkward. 

This was only first period, so I had to look like a dork and check my map and schedule to see where I need to go as well as getting lost a few times probably and and look like a total idiot. Though, doesn't everyone have to do that when they go to a new school? Well whatever. I'm used to looking like a dork anyways.

I made my way through the crowded hallways, finally, to get to English. I didn't hate English as much as I hate Algebra, in fact it's my favorite subject actually. It almost always depends on the teacher. I love to read, most times, and I love to write. I've never actually shown my writing to anyone. Not even to my parents. Well, parent.

I write mostly about the most random things. Rocks for instance. Last month, I think it was, I wrote a whole story about a girl and rocks. Yeah I know, stupid story. No, it was more than a dumb girl playing with a ridged crappy pebble. It had a whole back story and stuff. If I don't say so myself, it was pretty good. Not to be selfish or anything.

I'm just not sure what everybody else likes in books. Pretty much my whole life I've not had at many friends. Some come and go, move to a different place, or just decide to give up on me. Except of course for my one friend that I've had since I was about 8. Eric. I knew him since I was 8 actually but we became friends almost immediately. I don't know even now why he wanted to be my friend so badly. It was actually kind of funny. 

"Danika Peasler?" My name interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes?" I looked around the classroom to see the teacher staring at me through thick rectangle glasses. "Oh, here." He was doing the attendance. Idiot. I could feel my cheeks sting with red, beads trying to push through my skin to show my embarrassment. 

He looked down back to his clipboard on his desk. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to hiccup. I always hiccup when I get embarrassed. It's stupid and annoying, but I live with it. 

I made my way through the thin aisles between the rows and columns of desks. There were a few open seats scattered across the room, but I chose the one in the mid row, on the far right. I looked to the left of me, to get a first look at people who in the future may hate me or be my friend. Most of them looked like everyone else, the guys all wore football jerseys some just dark colors and sweatshirts. Some of the girls wore cheerleading outfits, or preppy clothes, or regular clothes like just T-shirts and stuff. I fit into that category, unassuming clothes, nothing that would stand out. 

I continued scanning the room and landed my eyes on one person. It was a girl, sitting on the exactly opposite side or the room from me. He had on a black sweatshirt, hood over he small oval head. The sleeves were pulled down as far as they would go on her arms the tips of the material worn and slightly ripped. She had pale skin, light pink tinted the tops of cheeks. Her eyes were a navy blue, with a shade of lighter blue within it in spots. They were staring down to the desk in front if her, barely blinking. Lips were Her hair partially hung out of the hood on either side. It went down a few inches, two or three maybe, past her shoulders. It was dyed, a dark purple hue, but still shined in the light the light that was spotted on her from the ceiling of the classroom. 

A large banging noise startled me and I had to fight the urge to yelp. I shot my head to the right where I saw the teacher. The pale, hairless face -other than his goatee- staring at me gravely. "This is what you missed through the year. I don't like to teach things I already have. Come by my class at free period to learn as much as you can. Until you've learned all in this pile, you will come every free period you have available."

He didn't even give me the chance to say anything. He just walked away. I looked down to the desk board and stared in awe at the pike of papers. It was like, almost two inches thick, not exaggerating. I mean that's not that big for half way thought the year for like, History or something. But for language arts that was massive. 

I awkwardly realized that my mouth was slightly parted and that almost everyone in the class had their eyes on me. They're gaze faded out back to the front as the teacher started talking. I looked back to my left to see the purple haired girl staring right back at me. Her eyes slightly squinted, lips and teeth ajar. She gave me a look, I can't really say what it meant, but it was somewhere between confusion, and angriness. I don't know. It was just the look on her face. 

Her thin, pointed eyebrows were dipping down in the middle of her forehead, making a crease in between the two brows. Which I think meant confusing. The way her lips were a perfect line cut in half, and bottom row of teeth moved forward in front or her first row, slightly, meant angry, or something like deeply disappointed.

We met eye contact for only a few seconds until she spun her head back down to look at the desk. She was now fiddling with her fingers, like I surprised her or she was was waiting for something to happen. 

I tried not to look at her the rest of class, though I failed a few times. Whenever I did, she was still in the same position sat the last, hunched over her desk a small bit, hands in a tight fist, to where her knuckles were beginning to turn white. Her face was unreadable, not really any expression. She didn't really seem like she was listening to the teacher at all. But neither was I, but whatever. 

Class passed faster than I had expected, which was good. The rest of the day did as well. I didn't see the girl for the rest of the day, and I was occupied by being frequently shoved into lockers and once almost got splashed straight in the face with a mixture of what seemed like water, sugar, and flour. So, I was lucky as I dodged the blubbery mess. 

On the bus I took the first, and the only, open seat. It was the first row, on the left. I sat next to the window with my backpack on the right of the seat, next to me. Not even 20 seconds later I felt my backpack being shoved into my side. 

I looked to the right, staring into strangely light blue eyes. His left arm was on the top of my backpack, holding in up next to me, opening a spot next to me. I looked at his hand, pale, a bit bony, with three or four braided string bracelets tangled with eachother. "Can I sit here?" He asked. I was surprised how his voice sounded. His hair was dark black, yet shiny with a tint of lighter black; if that makes any sense. His eyebrows, pointed down, knotting them together. Though his expression all over his face marked anger, his voice was light and calm. 

I stud degree at first. "Y-yeah...sure." I lifted the backpack, with him slowly releasing his hand form it, and placed it on my lap. I looked at him again, now his expression was different. His shoulders were pushed up, on his face he looked unsure, like something had changed and he was determining if it had happened. He looked at me and blushed. So did I, I was staring at him the whole time. In one swift move, he was down, sitting next to me. He had on a black pair of jeans, and a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his collar surrounding his neck. His ears were pierced, he had just black circles for earrings. 

I don't want to sound creepy, but he looked simply flawless. I don't even want to describe it, his hair, and face, and skin, and everything, just added up to be amazing. 

The ride home was filled with a lot of bumps, and sharp turns -which was a struggle not to accidentally crash into the guy every time- and finally stopping at the corner of my street. The guy got up, and stepped out of the way for me, and I walked off the bus. I turned around as the bus was leaving, and saw the guy got off also. He gave a light smirk and tightened his grip on his backpack strap which was laid over only one shoulder. I now noticed he was much taller than me, he had to be at least 6'2". His black hair was well, I don't know really how to describe it. Wispy..? It was just going in different directions, but in a good way. 

"Which way are you going?" He asked, walking closer. 

"How did you know I was getting off here?" I asked, ignoring his question. 

He stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied. "I saw you putting your iPhone away." I had been listening to music on the bus, but I hadn't put it away. I looked down at the centimeter thick rectangle in my hand, with two strings with plugs at the end hanging out of it. I lifted up my phone and earplugs so he could see and shook it a bit from side to side. His mouth was parted open as he didn't know what to say. "Oh, well, I thought you did." He smiled wearily and added, "lucky guess." 

I stared at him and then slowly began to nod. "Ok, then." There wasn't anything really to say. 

"Which direction is your house?" He pointed to the back of him, then to the front, both ways with rows of houses, mostly the same. 

I stopped to think. They all looked so similar I didn't really know. "Whichever way number 27 is on this road." He laughed softly, so I couldn't hear. 

"Then that would be down that way." It was the direction in front of him, and in back of me. 

"Great. Thanks." I bit my lip and but my hands in my pockets. neither of us spoke for what seemed a minute. I looked down the road in which the bus had left. If was far gone by now, but it didn't seem it left that long ago. 

The guy let out a harsh breath, and rubbed one one foot in the losses gravel, making a diminutive scraping sound when the rocks shifted against each other. He placed his hands in his jean pockets, and then in one pocket, he shuffled his hand around it, then jerked it out. He was not holding something. Something small. 

I looked away for a moment when a blue car drove bye. Dammit. The one time I want my mom to pick me up and embarrass me she doesn't. Doesn't take me away from this awkward tension. 

I sighed at looked back at the guy. His hands were hanging now, at his sides, not holding anything. He noticed I was looking at him and then he returned his gaze to the ground once again. His eyebrows furrowed like they had before. 

He lifted up the inner side of his right shoe, then completely moved it. There was a small and thin white object. He bent down to pick it up and opened it. His eyes seemed to scan over it then he locked eyes with me. "Your Danika?" He asked. 

Puzzled, I nodded, not really wanting to talk. He approached me with caution, and my back stiffened. I don't know why I hadn't noticed this before, but he had a scent. I mean like a good scent. I don't really want to sound awkward though. 

It wasn't cologne you could tell. It was natural. It had a vanilla majority with tints of something that I couldn't figure out what it was. 

But whatever the hell it was, I loved it. 

He handed me the unfolded yet creased slip of paper and said, "This is for you. I'm guessing you dropped it." 

I smiled and took it from him. "Thanks." 

His eyes were glaring down at me, looking almost as if he was studying me. "See you tomorrow." He blinked for the first time I saw in awhile. We both still didn't move other than me nodding. Again. 

In one swift movement he was spun around and was swiftly walking away, to his house I was guessing. 

I looked down at the sheet. All it said was:

'Danika peasler, Τέσσερα τριάντα σχετικά με τη δωδέκατη. 43 Maester λεωφόρο. πίσω αυλή. φέρει τίποτα.'

And once again I am at a point of whichever do not no what any of this means. Except for the part where it says my whole name. But that's just creepy!

I folded it -well more like crumpled it- and shoved it in my pocket. The boy was gone, I never even got his name. I ran to the house that said 24 on the mailbox. I guess that I knew which one was my house when I saw it, the houses weren't completely alike. I walked up to the door, as I fumbled in my backpack pocket for the new key, and stopped. Taped to the front door was another slip of paper. This one read:

'μην σκεφτείτε ακόμη και για να μην έρχονται. αύριο στις τέσσερις τριάντα. See you tomorrow.' 

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