She crashed into me.  No, seriously.  I saw her round the corner by the science wing, right by Mr. Newark’s room.  She was in a dead-on sprint, but she didn’t seem to be going anywhere.  Time had stopped.  It was like the slow motion you see in those action movies, except everyone was talking in normal speed.  She hiked her shoulder bag up further on her arm as it started slipping, her blond tresses flowing about her.  I’m not sure if I was breathing, to be totally honest.

I felt a nudge on my shoulder as Kelsey tried to regain my attention.  Blushing slightly, I realized I had completely missed a question she had asked.

“So are you going to the dance in a couple of weeks, or not?” she repeated.

I brought in what I figured to be my first breath that minute, and just as I was about to answer, it happened.  Kelsey was leaning against her locker, but was just enough out of the way so she didn’t get hit.  The impact was on my shoulder, pushing me back.  I fell backward, connecting with the ground.

She fell on top of me.  Her, with all of her brilliance.  I couldn’t believe it.  Just inches from my face was hers.  I’ve always loved her blue eyes, but this time they froze me like the ice they are.  I watched her get up from where I lay on the ground.  It’s like she didn’t even notice me.  That killed me.  She said nothing as she got up and ran.

Time seemed to start again as Kelsey helped me to my feet.  She asked me if I was okay and I nodded.  I wasn’t sure if I had actually heard her, my eyes trying to scan the hallway for the girl running away.  I was dusting myself off as Kelsey closed her locker door.

“What a bitch.  She didn't even say she was sorry.  Oh, and don’t forget your sketchbook,” she said, pointing to a notebook on the floor.  I looked in my bag, and sure enough, my sketchbook was missing.  I quickly picked the sketchbook off of the floor, put it in my bag and walked to lunch with Kelsey.


When Kelsey and I walked into the lunchroom, we found our usual table, set our bags down and got food, and then returned again.  We started eating, or at least I did.  She just picked at her food like usual.  By the time I was almost done, I had gotten sick of watching her prod at the mystery meat of the day and her over-cooked mixed vegetables.  I had to break the silence.

Without even looking up, I said with a rather harsh tone, “Would you stop that?”
She had been staring at her tray for some time now, and it seemed it took awhile for my request to actually reach her.

“Stop what?” she asked, a bit of annoyance clinging to the edge of her words.

I looked up from the last of my lunch to glare at her.  The rest of my friends at our table were engulfed in their own conversations and meals to even take notice.

“Stop picking at your food and just eat it.  Every day it's the same damn thing.  You need to eat something, not just simply look at it.”

“I eat plenty at home, don't worry about it,” and, with that, she went back to stabbing and dissecting the contents of her lunch.

I wasn't sure whether I should believe her, however, she hadn't been in a good mood today and I wasn't about to make matters worse.  When I finished my lunch, Kelsey and I got up and dumped our trays, and then sat back down at the lunch table.  Most of our friends had gone to do the same by the time we got back, and the others were visiting other friends across the cafeteria.

“I wonder why she was in such a hurry?” I asked aloud, but to no one in particular, my eyes focusing on the empty space in front of me.

Kelsey didn't look up from her study guide as she was once again cramming for a test the next class period.

“Who?”

She almost startled me when she responded as I never really directed the question towards her.  I sat back and slouched in my chair a bit, trying to make myself comfortable in what seemed like the most straight-backed chair in the room.

“Anna,” I replied.

This time she set her small stack of papers down that she had been studying rather hard from, and looked over at me with a very puzzled look on her face, she asked again, “Who?”

“Anna,” I reinforced.  When her face showed even more confusion, I had remembered Kelsey wasn't in my art class.  Anna was, but we haven't ever really talked.  If she knew my name, it was probably only from roll call.  Well, that's how I knew hers, anyway.

“She's in my art class.  I think she's a senior.  I've seen some of her stuff, she’s really good.”  Kelsey continued to look blankly at me, puzzlement filling her eyes.  “Oh, Anna is the one that ran into me in the hallway before lunch.”

A light clicked on in Kelsey's attic as she began to realize what it was I was talking about.

“Why do you care if she was in a hurry?  It’s not like she cares about sophomore scum like us.  She didn't even apologize to you in the hallway!  You can drool all over her artwork all you want, but she’ll never even know your name.”

I bit my lip as Kelsey said all this.  She didn’t know.  I don’t think she would even be able to comprehend or even understand what was running through my head.

“Yeah…You’re right.” I played it off as hoping for a senior friend.  I couldn’t tell her what was really on my mind.  I’m almost afraid of how she’d react.  Anna's blue eyes, soft skin and kind smile would have to remain in my mind only.

The bell was about to ring, so I stood up and grabbed my stuff.  As I turned around, Kelsey’s boyfriend showed up.  I could not deny that he was a gorgeous boy.  His teeth were always so perfect and so white.  His smile was amazing because of it, but that was not the best part about him.  He had the most incredible mohawk ever.  It was always styled perfectly, and because Kelsey told him he had looked ridiculous with it down, he wore it up all the time.  He had reminded me of a poster boy for SLC Punk or something.  He may have had the looks, but that didn’t mean I liked him.  He was a terrible influence on Kelsey.  I didn’t mind so much that they went out drinking or if he invited her to get stoned with him and his friends – but only in moderation.  He, unfortunately, didn’t know the definition of moderation.

“Oh, Mike, there you are!” Kelsey said ecstatically as if she hadn't seen him for years, flinging her arms around him.  The bell rang and I barely made eye contact with Mike before I walked to class.  They started walking the opposite way, hand-in-hand, making me sick.

I started walking to my class alone with my racing thoughts, when another friend of mine came into stride with me.  I wasn’t really in the mood for talking, but Jamie never missed the opportunity.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” she asked me, her voice filled with giggles.

I looked at her, clearly puzzled.  My mind was on how I was going to waste the minutes in my study hall, not on guys.

“Who?” I asked, her facial expression clearly shocked when she realized I was serious.

“Mike!  Kelsey is so lucky.  He’s gotta be the most gorgeous boy in the school.  Plus, he’s a senior!  She’s so lucky.”  A grin stretched across her lips and her eyes were beginning to hold a dreamy gaze.

I couldn’t wait for Jamie to stop talking.  Mike wasn’t even as great as she tried making him seem.  She was right about him being gorgeous, but he had the personality of a rock.

Jamie kept walking as I turned into the room my study hall was in.  I was pretty sure the room changed every other week; I just wish they’d pick an empty classroom or even the cafeteria and just stick with it.  I looked up as I walked in, realizing I hadn’t been in this room yet.  This room had desks instead of tables and no windows for me to be distracted by.  I guessed the room used to be a part of the math department and was now just used for storage.  A few posters with dog-eared corners and jaded colors still hung crookedly on the wall, reminding the viewer of the order of operations, while other posters were of cheesy math jokes and reminders to turn assignments in on time.  No counter space was visible as they, and all of the shelving in the room, were filled with boxes of who-knows-what and extra books from the English department.  I considered asking if I could pull one off of the shelf as I slumped into a randomly-chosen desk, but as I read the spines, nothing seemed intriguing.

Other students started to file in behind me, sliding into desks all over the room.  Most of them were new faces as this was the first day of the second semester.

The bell rang to give notice to the start of class, my attention only being caught when I had heard my name.

“Danielle Allen…”

The voice wasn’t coming from our normal study hall supervisor, but I recognized it from around the school.  The man it belonged to brandished a “substitute teacher” sticker on his suit coat.  I raised my hand slowly and meekly to show my presence and opened up my bag as he finished calling the rest of the study hall students’ names.  I flipped through my notebooks idly, finding I had no homework to do, remembering that it was because of the semester change.  A tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around as some freshman boy asked for a sheet of paper.  I ripped one out for him and reached for my sketchbook for something to do.  That’s when I remembered where I knew the substitute teacher from.  He used to be the old art teacher before I had gotten to this school.  He came to my grade school when I was in eighth grade to enlighten my class about what art could do for us.  It almost made me laugh to imagine him teaching art in the suit he was wearing today.

The substitute spoke again while I still had my hand on the sketchbook.

“Anna!” he called with a tone of surprise.

I looked up immediately at her name.  How could I be so lucky? I thought to myself.  Because, sure enough, her sparkling blue eyes pierced me as she looked directly at me.  I seemed to be frozen in place again, only regaining myself as she turned to Mr. Clarol, the substitute teacher, when he asked her what she needed.

“I'm just grabbing some of the art history books Mrs. Genaldi stored in here last semester.”

Her voice was angelic.  I found myself just staring in her direction, my grip slowly slipping on the sketchbook – only realizing this when I dropped it back in my bag.

“Would you like some help carrying some of them?  If I remember those books correctly, they were quite large,” Mr. Clarol said.

“Sure, I would love some help!” Anna replied cheerfully, dimples accenting her cheeks as she smiled.

Mr. Clarol turned to the rows of desks and said out loud, “Would anyone like to help Anna bring some books to Mrs. Genaldi's room?”

I'm pretty sure my hand went up too fast.  No one else seemed to have noticed someone had even walked into the room.  Mr. Clarol waved me up front and I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, the bag resenting this as I felt my books weigh me down slightly.

“There should be two boxes of books over here...” Anna told me as I got up to the front of the room, her fingers running along the spines of the books in the boxes that lined the counter.

“Ah, here they are.”

She handed me a box and I took it into my arms.  The books were heavy but I wasn't about to show her that.  I'm not sure why, but I felt I had to prove myself to her.  She handled the boxes as if nothing was in them.  I couldn't help but look at her arms as they flexed when she picked up her box and I bit my lip without even noticing it.  I'm glad she didn't notice, either.

We got out into the hallway and she stopped for a moment at the doorway; I almost kept walking.

“You're that girl in my art class, aren't you?  It's Danielle, right?”

I smiled slightly and nodded my head, “Yeah.  Yeah, it's Dani.”

I couldn't believe she remembered me.  We started walking towards the art room, and the boxes seemed to get lighter as we talked.  I can't even remember what we talked about, mainly because it could have been anything and I would have been happy.

“Hey, I'm sorry about running into you earlier today.  I was--”

“In a hurry?” I interrupted, blushing slightly when I realized how harsh my voice sounded.

“Yeah,” she laughed slightly.  “A little bit.”

I could have melted right there with her laugh.  In fact, I smiled just from hearing her laugh.

“What?  What's so funny?”   She said it so innocently.

“Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Why were you in such a hurry, though?”

If I hadn't known any better, I would have sworn she was blushing, but I knew that could not have been possible.

“Well, it's sort of a long story.”

I looked up over at her.  “Well we have about three more hallways to walk if you can shorten it?”

She laughed gently again.  “Okay, I guess I could do that.  Long story short, I was in a hurry to get to my class on time.”

Now I'm pretty sure she was blushing.

“So what's the long version then?”

She smiled slightly, “Okay, so that's the long version, too.  I stayed behind to get some questions answered in Mr. Newark's class and I didn't want to be late for my next class.  I haven't been late for a class yet, you know.”

I smiled and laughed, almost dropping my box.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded and said jokingly, “Shut up, I've got a good record.”

“Okay, okay,” I responded, trying not to laugh again.

“Besides, you didn't get out of my way.”  She laughed at this, too, and then pushed me out of the door frame of Mrs. Genaldi's room as we approached it.  I stumbled backwards a bit, and then laughed as I entered the room, setting the box next to hers.  We both pulled out the books and stacked them on the counter.  The majority were falling apart, their spines ravaged by time, the pages weathered by students.  We flipped through them silently, neither of us really having anything to say.  I put my copy back onto the counter only after she did.  As I did so, the bell rang.  I didn't even realize it took us so long to walk down the hall.

“Well, that's my cue to go.  This way I won't run into anyone else on my way to my next class.”

With that, she left and I just watched her walk away before I followed and went to my last class of the day.


I sat down in my usual spot in English.  It was the desk in the front row furthest from the door.  English was generally my favorite class, but that could be just because I understood it and was good at it.  It was an easy A for me, even if I didn't apply myself as I should have.

Pulling out my notebook, I started doodling while I waited for the class to begin.  Not until my teacher started talking did I realize I was roughly sketching hearts.  I quickly ripped out the page and threw it away.  This is ridiculous, I thought to myself.  Concentrating, for once in this class, was hard.  All I could think of – the only image in my head – was Anna.  I laid my head down to try and clear my thoughts.  My teacher's voice quickly became a mix and a blur.  Some time had passed, I'm not sure how much, when I felt a couple nudges on my shoulder to wake me up.

“If you don't hurry up, you'll miss your bus.”

The voice belonged to my English teacher.  I opened my eyes to the realization that the bell had rung and the entire class had already filed out.

“You're lucky you are one of my more attentive students on any other day, Miss Allen.  Complete the worksheet located on the desk by the door and I will forget this ever happened.”

I quickly thanked him, grabbed the homework and ran for my locker.  In my hurry, I screwed up the combination at least three times before I got my locker opened.  The school was becoming emptier as the seconds passed.  As I ran outside, the sunlight blinded me.  Finding the right bus, I got on and took a seat.  I was just in time, too; as the bus started rolling away as I had sat down.  My stop was only the second one; I was home about ten minutes after taking my seat.


No one was home when I walked in.  I smiled at the usual silence of the empty house.  My older sister had left for college two years ago, my parents divorced when I was seven and my mom was at work.  I threw myself onto my bed and closed my eyes.  Seconds later, I woke myself up.  I can do this later, I have homework to do now, I thought to myself.

Sitting up, I pulled my bag towards me and got to work.  Less than an hour later, it was complete.

I could hear the garage door opening from across the house and a minute later, my mom appeared in the doorway.  I went to help her unload the groceries and prepare dinner.

“So how was your day at school?” she asked me as I started to dice the vegetables for tonight's tacos.

“I think I made a new friend.”

Her look was a bit quizzical and as if it were an automatic question from a concerned mother, she asked, “What's his name?”

“Her name is Anna, mom.  She's in my art class but I haven't really talked to her until today.”

“Oh?” she questioned as she started to brown the meat.

I nodded in return, “Yeah, she's a really good artist.”  I wasn't going to tell her how Anna's eyes froze me and how her warm smile reanimated me, melting me back to life.

That was the end of the conversation and we sat down to eat.  I ate my dinner quickly and did the dishes so my mom didn't have to call me back in.  After the dishes, I went right back to my room and lay down.  I closed my eyes and once again my thoughts took over, suffocating me into a deep sleep.


The room was still dark when I opened my eyes.  Unfortunately, I was wide awake.  I rolled over and looked at my clock.  It read 4:30 and I groaned as I rolled back over onto my back.  Pulling back my covers, I realized I fell asleep in my clothes from the day before.  Within ten minutes I was dressed and my teeth were brushed; I could have left for school right then, minus the fact that it wouldn't start for another three hours.

Sighing lightly, I sat down at my desk and pulled my sketchbook onto it.  Clearing my eyes, I opened the sketchbook to the first page to reminisce.  I knew it had been awhile since I had searched through the beginning of it, but I didn't recognize the drawing.  Then, I saw them.  The initials upon the drawing were not of my own.  They were Anna's.

My jaw dropped and I quickly closed the cover, loose sheets of paper that once inhabited my desk now fluttered to the floor.  I took in a deep breath.  I was more awake than before.  Art is an expression of emotion, I knew this.  The sketchbook in front of me held Anna's heart and soul.  I wanted so much to look in it.  But would I want her to look in mine? I asked myself.

“My sketchbook,” I said aloud.  My voice scared me as I spoke into the deafening silence.  “She has my sketchbook.  She must have grabbed mine instead of hers when she ran into me.”

I simply stared at the sketchbook, not even touching it as if doing so would spoil its contents.  Hours seemed to slip by as I continued to ask myself if I should open it.  Finally, after what was actually only several minutes, I got up and ran some hot water into the bath.  I slipped in and let the steam and hot water relax me.  Without falling asleep this time, I felt my thoughts take over me again.  I laid there and simply thought over whether I should peek at its contents until the water turned cold and I heard my mom walking around.  A knock on the bathroom door shocked me back into reality.

“Honey, are you okay?”  My mom's voice called, a bit of concern lingering upon it.

I sat up and called back, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

I got out, dried off and redressed.  After I finished draining the bath, I walked out, still drying my hair.

“Are you not feeling well?” My mom questioned as I came back out of my room.

“No, I'm fine.  Why?”

“Well you went to bed so early and you said so little...” her voice trailed off a bit.

“I was just tired, mom.  Nothing to worry about.  But I should get going.  I need to talk to one of my teachers before school starts.”

She still didn't seem convinced, but she allowed me to go.  “Would you like a ride, Dani?” she added quickly as I put my hand around the doorknob.

“No,” I responded, “It's nice out, so I'll just walk.”

My mom smiled and bade me good-bye as I walked out the door, closing it behind me.  My bag felt a little heavier as if knowing Anna's thoughts were in there had added weight, even if I didn't know what the thoughts contained.