Chapter 1

All throughout middle school, I had hated the name Adam Watson. It was a name the school bullies had become all too familiar with, and it became a name I figured was cursed, and I too for having it. They always liked to give me increasingly bizarre reasons for their bullying - "Adam can't talk to girls, he must like men," "Adam still wears tighty-whities," "Adam doesn't like looking at porn," crap like that. I knew their true reason for picking on me - a geeky, socially awkward kid who had a tendency to talk in a way considered too 'proper' for middle school, and an inability to talk to girls. The 'proper' talk was how my parents raised me. The inability to talk to girls, well, that was just a gift from God.

The bullying got so bad that eventually I stopped going outside for recess, I stopped talking to people during my classes, and eventually I stopped talking to people. As far as middle school went, it was an easy solution that was basically foolproof. But by the time I had gotten to high school, I found out that my luck had drained away.

After I plead and plead to my parents, I was transferred to a high school far away from my old middle school. There were none of my old bullies in sight, but as I had learned in the first few weeks of grade nine, socialization was a bit more key. I was talking to people, but shyly, quietly and I'm sure what could be seen as begrudgingly. However, that all changed quickly.

It was a cool-ish October morning when I was woken by my mother's bellowing voice.

"Adam! Get up! You're going to miss the bus!"

Shit. Had I slept through my alarm? A lazy opening of one eye and a peek at my digital clock answered that question with a jolt of panic. I bolted upwards, jumped out of my bed and pulled on the closest shirt I could see. As I found and put on a pair of pants, I inspected myself in the mirror.

Nothing special, to be expected. A lanky, almost gangly teen stared back at me, his longish dirty blond hair flopped over his head, just enough that you couldn't see his piercing green eyes, something I was told once was my best feature. Mind you, my grandma told me that, so I wasn't exactly going to call that the popular vote quite yet. I grimaced slightly at the state of my hair and what I saw as a skinny, unattractive body. The baggy shirt I had randomly picked helped a bit, I reasoned to myself. I shook my head, pushed my hair out of my face and raced downstairs.

The first thing I saw when I headed into the kitchen downstairs was my dad looking at his watch. "Just missed it..." he commented bitterly. "It's a shame you don't have a Delorean on you."

Ignoring his dated movie joke, I sputtered out, "I missed the bus?" My heart sank. The high school was, as I mentioned, far away, and I didn't have any other way to get there.

He raised his eyebrows. "Nope," he replied without a trace of a smile. "I'm just kidding. Now get your stuff together, you don't have long."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Two things about my dad that created a sometimes unnerving mix was that he was an absolute joker who never took anything seriously, and that he never ever smiled. He wasn't heartless, he just liked to show his jokiness and happiness in other ways. Unless he was playing a prank on me, I never really minded it. Though, today was definitely an exception.

As I gathered my stuff together, my mother started to stammer. She was an absolute worrier, and was a little hesitant by nature, as if anything she could say would drive me to depression. I turned to her expectantly, still packing away my textbooks and lunch.

She noticed my stare and cleared her throat. "Sweetie, before you go, I want to have a quick word with you."

"Sure, but make it quick please." I replied flatly. "Doc Brown over there says I don't have long."

"Oh good, you got the reference." Dad replied dryly as he sipped his coffee. "Hey Marcia, maybe I'm not as old as I thought." He called out to my mother.

Mom nodded at dad with a patient smile on her face, then turned her attention back to me. "Sweetie, we've been talking to your teachers, and frankly, I'm just a little worried.

What a surprise, I thought. "Worried? Why? Are my grades bad? It's only been a month, I'm not that dumb."

"You're not dumb, Adam!" My mother said sharply. "It's not your grades. Your teachers are just worried because you're unusually quiet in class. I thought it would help once we got you to a school where you could have a fresh start, but it doesn't seem to be helping, and frankly, it would make things a lot easier on me to get you bussing to a closer school..."

I caught on to what she was saying immediately. "Mom, I can't go to that school. Everyone there will know me. They were happy with bullying me before. It'll make my life a living hell."

It's true, mom had a hell of a time convincing the board to get me bussing from a whole town over without being in a special education program, but I was just starting to get used to a life where I wasn't the center of attention, and I would fight like hell before I had to give that up.

Mom bit her lip in thought. "I don't know, sweetie." She finally said. "It just seems like the school isn't helping you. If you were a bit more social, it would make it all worth it." She paused for effect. "And it would mean the world to me."

I exhaled sharply. I wanted to tell her that being social was the opposite of what I craved, but while my eyes scanned the room looking for an explanation, they found the clock. Oh, shit.

"I-I'll think about it, mom." I said quickly as I scooped up my backpack. "I'll try, okay?"

She gave me a weak smile as I headed out the door. Poor mom. I was a bit too hard on her, knowing all of the things she did for me, but I couldn't help who I was.

Or could I? The thought crept into my mind as I sat on the bus, staring out the window. Maybe, even if I considered it a living hell, I should do it for my mom, not me. I should prove myself to be a social success. Even just a little. That could keep me at this school, then once I had one or two friends, I could stop talking again, and we would all win.

I started to smile. Maybe I should just be spontaneous. Be that guy who did crazy things and met the craziest of friends. Maybe it might even make me happier. As I thought about it more, my smile turned into a grin. Okay. I'll do it.

My homeroom, science class, was honestly the most fun I had all day. I had one reason for that, and the reason was Mr. Carrozza. This professor was just the right amount of friendly, and the right amount of crazy to make me both smile and be glad I wasn't him.

"Brilliant to see you all here again today, class." He began after the morning announcements died down. "Now, today we'll be looking at the basic properties of light in relation to matter. Now, some of my comrades would say that this is 'senior physics' or something like that, but we can take it, can't we, hmm?"

He turned to us, his bug-eyes magnified by his overly large glasses. His white hair contrasted with his weirdly-tanned face. His face quickly turned into a smile when he heard a couple of groans.

"Just a joke, class. Pardon my academic sense of humor. We're just going to be looking at concave and convex lenses. If you ask me, the lesson is really watered down, almost as if the principal is insulting our very intelligence ... Oh, wait!"

Derailed from his weekly speech about how we learn too little, he hobbled over to his desk and retrieved a paper.

"I do believe the announcements were supposed to cover this, but it seems they haven't, so pardon the brief interruption." He said, then pursed his lips as he squinted and read the paper. He made an audible 'ah' sound and turned his attention to the class.

"It's that time again, class." He said simply. "Student council is hiring grade 9 students to join them in governing the school."

Student council. Only the most popular kids get into that class. And only the best. All four teachers a student had needed to vouch for a candidate if they wanted to join, and only one student from grade 9 could join. Mr. Carrozza went over the duties of student council before pressing on.

"I don't suppose any of you brilliant young minds would like to give the old stick a whack across the tree, would you?"

Silence poured through the room. "What does that even mean?" a muscle-clad hoodie-wearer called from across the room.

Mr. Carrozza sighed. "Would any of you be interested in trying out for Student Council?" He asked. His eyes scanned the room, his tongue running over his lips in concentration as he squinted at all of us in succession. When his eyes passed over me, his eyes lit up and he donned a shocked expression.

"Why Mr. Watson, this is certainly an unexpected surprise!"

What? I looked confusedly at him, then at all of the eyes peering at me. Finally, I saw my arm. My own arm, reaching into the air as if I were painted on the Sistine Chapel. Oh, no. Oh God no. When did my arm go up like that? I willed it down. Student Council was not for me. It was not for ... Actually...

What if I tried out? I would definitely lose, so there was no harm there. And it would calm mom down. Maybe this could be my spontaneous thing. With newfound confidence, I nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carrozza." I said, as if speaking with my voice for the first time. "I would like to try out for Student Council."

He fumbled with his words. He certainly was not expecting this. Finally, he produced a piece of paper from his desk, and put it gently on my desk. "Well, I must say, good luck." He said, then added, "See me after class."

I looked at him with confusion until he pointed to the lower section of the paper. The higher section required all of my personal information, and the bottom half was for my marks, comments, and signatures from teachers. I should have been nervous, but I was actually excited. I had no clue why.

"Alright, everyone, enough about tawdry school activities." Mr. Carrozza said sternly as he walked back to his desk. "Open your books to page 147. You should see 'The properties of a convex lens.'"

Everyone turned back to their desks immediately. I'd know, I sat at the back of the class. Well, everyone except one girl. He eyes seemed to be locked onto the paper I was holding. I glanced at her from the blackboard to see a look I couldn't identify. It seemed like ... confused intrigue. Her full lips seemed curved into something just short of a smile, as if she was wondering why someone like me would want to be in Student Council. Her brown, wavy hair covered one of her hazel eyes, and for a fellow grade nine, I had to say her body looked damn good, from what little I saw of it. Still, I didn't want to be caught staring and apparently neither did she. Even though I'd been looking at her for a good second, she suddenly snapped to attention and turned back around. Curious, but too shy to even think about it without scolding myself, I turned back towards the class.

After class, I stayed behind, as Mr. Carrozza instructed me. When he looked up from his desk to find me still sitting there, he looked puzzled for a second, then his eyes lit up. "Ah, of course, master Watson." He said, half-joking, as he got up from his desk and overlooked my paper. in a distracted voice, he added, "Yes, you're one of my best students, you know."

"Thank you, sir." I replied flatly.

"Oh, no need for the 'sir!'" He shot back playfully. "It makes me feel old." He stopped what he was doing, shot a look straight up at nothing in particular, and added gravely, "My God, I AM old." Strangely, he just chuckled and went back to the paper. One signature later, he sighed happily and returned to the desk. I read his kinds words aloud and thanked him again, and he happily shooed me away. I left the classroom feeling a lot better than I normally did while I was in school.

Math class felt for difficult for me, in terms of approaching the teacher. True to his name, Mr. Graves took his job very seriously, and not only canned any and all jokes his brain ever thought up since the '90s, but also made you feel scared just by asking him a question. When he was finished giving the lesson, with as much fake confidence as I could muster, I walked up to his desk and cleared my throat nervously.

"Uh, Mr. Graves?" I stated weakly.

He looked up from an assignment he was marking with one eyebrow cocked. "What can I do for you, Adam?" He asked very seriously.

"Um, I was wondering if you could..." I trailed off and held up the paper. "Could you please ... sign this?" I managed.

He looked it over in my hand. "I suppose." He replied. He lowered his eyebrows and his eyes met mine as if they were going to fire missiles. "But next time, please ask me after class. You may have interrupted some students' concentration."

I turned to the class. Many, if not most, of my fellow classmates were staring at me as I sat at Mr. Graves' desk.

"Sorry." I mumbled lamely. The class collectively chuckled, and I immediately felt weak in the chest. Great. I tried to say one little thing, and already people were laughing at my stupidity. I must have looked like a real ass. A low-down, stupid-

"Adam!" Mr. Graves said sternly as he held out the paper. I emitted an audible 'oh' and grabbed the paper. "Thanks." I said to him.

"You're welcome." He said, returning to his paper. "And Adam?"

I held back. "Yes?"

"May I offer some advice?"

"Certainly, sir." I replied.

"Student council is about popularity and ability. But ability only counts with the teachers. With students, it's popularity. That's going to be your main hurdle. Don't worry about the teachers. You're a good student. Worry about how you're going to come across as popular." He looked up from his paper, admitting a look of genuine concern, the first time he let any sign of emotion show in his classroom. "No offense, of course." He said with a tone matching his uncharacteristically concerned face.

"None taken." I said. He was speaking the truth. When I made my way back to the desk, I felt a hand on my shoulder behind me. I cringed. This was it. Someone was going to hit me for something stupid I said.

"Man, Mr. Graves is such an asshole." I heard a voice whisper sympathetically from behind me. I turned around to see a guy with a nearly shaven heard looking back at me, dressed in a black baggy sweater. "Don't you worry about him. You can make yourself popular." He added for support.

No one really talked to me before without due reason, so I just stammered as a response. He broke out into a grin and added, "And I loved the way you said 'sorry.' Classic, man." He held out his fist. I'm not proud to say it's only from movies that I knew I had to do a fist-bump.

I felt a strong wave of relief wash over me. He thought me saying 'sorry' was cool, not pathetic. But ... Was Mr. Graves an asshole? I actually liked him a lot more after our conversation today. Maybe it was because he knew how to cut the bullshit and speak the truth. I didn't know.

"I'm Carson, by the way." The guy behind me whispered.

"Adam. Adam Watson." I said back.

"Good to meet you, man. Good on ya going for Student Council. It's usually only pricks and sluts that would try out anyway. I'd vote for ya."

I was genuinely scared by this guy's kindness, but that feeling was a shadow in comparison to the pride in knowing I had secured one vote. "Yeah?" I said, unable to hide my smile. He simply nodded. I nodded back, and turned back to my assignment.

My English teacher was overenthusiastic, to say the least. You could barely ever catch her without some sort of smile on her face. When I presented the paper to her, words were not needed - all she did was smile enthusiastically and take the sheet.

"I'm very impressed with you." Mrs. Jackson said in a way so sweet that I began to doubt her sincerity. "Very impressed." She handed me back the sheet, the comments section coated with completely overstated accounts of my success in English class. I smiled at her, probably a bit more weakly than I should have, and took a seat.

This time, it wasn't so ceremonious. Nobody had any reason to look up from their reading at me, and I preferred it that way. I scanned my eyes over the class from my seat at the back and noticed the same girl again.

I never even knew she was in two of my classes. This time, I had more than a second to observe her, and it would be criminal of me to describe her as anything less than beautiful, even from the back. She was wearing an adorable dark green dress which hugged her curves nicely. Even from the back, I could tell that she had to be at least a B cup, if not larger. Her waist seemed to disappear into her chair, although the chair itself wasn't that wide. I could tell, she was absolutely gorgeous, and I found myself wishing that she would do something. Turn around, stand up, anything to help me get a better look at her.

My wish was granted as her back stiffened and she stretched. She rolled her shoulders as she moved her head from side to side, moving the hair out of her face. Being diagonally across from her, I barely saw the outer details of her face.

Even as she worked, she had the beginnings of an adorable smile constantly on display. Near the corner of her mouth moving up to her nose were just the right amount of freckles to look adorable. Her hair, brown and beautiful, practically shone, and cascaded down her head down to her waist, and complimented her face amazingly. Her nose was a perfect shape, and what little I could see of her eye was perfect too. She honestly looked like a painting.

Before she had the chance to turn around and notice me, I turned back to my reading, but noticed a fluttering feeling in my heart that I couldn't quite place. For the first time, I had a crush.

In hindsight, I had no clue why I had picked drama class as an elective. I enjoyed watching movies, and shows like Whose Line Is It Anyway, but I had the acting skills of a dead cat. I read scripts like they were an ingredients label on a Boring Sandwich, and could improv about as well as reading scripts. Not to mention my shyness was a huge impairment on my ability to participate.

However, I had to give the class some credit - the teacher was fantastic. His name was Mr. Salvador, a Spanish-born man who allegedly went to theatre school in Paris of all places. He always had a serious expression, topped off by a small pair of glasses and little-to-no hair at all times. He first got my respect when he outlined that unlike other drama classes, he would not focus on Shakespeare and taking apart scripts to find their deeper meaning. In fact, the guy was unpredictable and unusual in his exercises to boot. The first thing he did with us was go on the auditorium's stage and tell the class who we were - without using words. Needless to say, I didn't have a hard time telling the class I was shy.

Getting him to sign my paper would prove to be the most difficult out of all the teachers, though, since he began class the same way every day - arriving later than all of his students, walking to the stage, sitting on it's edge, facing us, and simply saying, "Hello." Then he began the lesson immediately, without interruptions. His voice was authoritative, yet calming - almost like a fatherly figure. I imagine he was the subject of a lot of Electra complexes in the school.

Then he would dive right in to the lesson. He got us to go onstage and all divide up into pairs, firstly. Our class had an odd number of people ... three guesses who managed to not find a partner.

"Adam." Mr. Salvador called out.

"Yes?" I called back.

He made an outward gesture with his arms. "Where's your partner?" He asked me.

Sarcasm was my first language, and as a result I've learned to impulsively use it with everyone, authority or not. "He left." I replied.

He gave me a puzzled look. "Where'd he go?" He asked, then looked around. "I thought we were all accounted for."

I made a mental note in my head that they must not teach sarcasm in Paris and clarified, "I was kidding. I don't have a partner."

"Got it." he replied flatly. "Well, for now ... Join a pair, make a group of three."

I groaned internally. Not I was the subject of a group's ruin. I must have looked like a complete ass at that point, as I putzed around nervously, looking for anybody who didn't view me with what I saw as contempt.

"C'mon, quickly." Mr. Salvador encouraged me impatiently. I jumped slightly and joined the closest group to me, a group of two guys who looked like they were only in this class to get the arts credit. Sports jerseys, a visible 'fuck you' attitude, low-riding pants ... Yup, these guys were the pinnacle of 'I don't belong in a drama class.' Then again, I wasn't the one to talk.

Mr. Salvador cleared his throat and began. Label yourselves A and B."

The class was abuzz in overenthusiastic actors and actresses of tomorrow labelling themselves 'A' immediately. In my group, I just looked at my shoes and one of the jock wannabes turned to the other. "Um ... Okay, I'll be A, you be B." one of them said, a boy with blond hair and a mouth that always seemed to hang open.

"What about this guy?" The other one, a guy with brown hair just a little bit too long and the makings of a moustache (a baseball player, I bet) said while gesturing towards me.

Blondie thought to himself, his mouth still open. Then his open mouth broke into a grin. "He can be B too." He said proudly, as if he just thought up a brilliant idea.

I nodded enthusiastically, looking up from my shoes. On the inside, I sighed.

Mr. Salvador continued. "Good! Now, A's, your job is to get the other to guess an emotion. Once I say go, A's will come to me in a huddle and I'll give you your separate emotions you have to portray. A's, you can not use your face or your voice. Your face is blank. You can only portray this emotion with your bodies. Pairs will sit down when you've guessed correctly."

At least my team had double the guessing power, I thought bitterly. I actually wouldn't have minded being paired up with anyone else. I didn't much like jocks, they were the type of person who bullied me relentlessly only a short time ago. I closed my eyes and asked that if there was a God up there, to give me a new partner. Someone. Anyone.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the auditorium doors, followed by the door opening and someone slowly entering. I recognized her immediately. The cutie from my English and Science classes.

"Sorry for disrupting the class." She practically sang in a voice I kept repeating in my head. If angels could talk, her voice could make them leave in shame. It was delicate, yet sweet; strong, yet soft. As she stood, I got the chance to drink in her full image.

She was short, but not too short. Her height could only be described as perfect - just shorter than me. The green dress ended at her knees, revealing two beautiful, almost teasing legs. They seemed to slink as she walked. Her shoes were together in a pose cutely complimented by how her two hands were clasped behind her back. Her waist was tight - very tight. Hugged impressively by her dress, as if the dress was made only for her, her waist allowed her surprisingly full hips (Which I had to imagine would sway just a bit when she walked) and chest to stick out even more than they normally would.

And her chest certainly didn't need the help. I was wrong before - she had to be at least a C cup (which was massive for grade 9 standards) which stood out proudly from her chest, slightly straining the dress she was wearing.

Her face was slightly blushing from all of the attention on her, but she was still giving that cute, innocent smile. Her pale complexion, something I normally didn't like in a girl, outlined all of her facial features perfectly, and brought to mind the skin of an angel. The freckles brought out just the right amount of innocent cuteness, but they had nothing on her beautiful, big hazel eyes, gleaming and dancing on her face's smile. Her eyelashes, full yet giving me the impression she wore no mascara, crowned them beautifully. Her hair framed her face in a perfect fashion, and the sight of her made me smile before I was even realizing it. My trance was broken when Mr. Salvador spoke.

"It's okay. Can I help you?"

"I just transferred out of music..." She trailed off, holding up a sheet of paper. "Mr. Scott directed me to this class."

Mr. Scott was our school's principal, and I was just about ready to kiss his feet at that moment. Mr. Salvador nodded at her, and turned back to the class.

"Well, welcome to the class. You missed a lot of introductory activities, so you'll find that the first few weeks will be a bit overwhelming."

"It's fine!" she returned in a chipper way. "I work well under pressure."

I had to turn away from any classmates in my line of sight. I know she didn't mean it like that, but she was making me ... Stir, in the lower areas. I scolded myself for being so lustful, and tried to calm myself down by reminding myself how I probably won't ever even talk with her.

"Well, you can join in on this activity." Mr. Salvador said, mostly to himself. "Let's see ... Adam, you said your partner left, correct?"

My heart fluttered in my chest as the class gave a little bit of a laugh. "Uh..." I began, taken off guard. "Yes sir." I noted that it was the first time I called him sir. He raised his eyebrows in a way that made me wonder if he made the same realization.

"Well, he just got used to this group." Blondie piped up. "New girl can go with me if you want."

Mr. Salvador either didn't remember his hormonal period of being a teen, or had the best poker face known to man. "I don't see why her going with Adam is any worse." He said with a blank expression. He turned to her. "And I imagine your name is something other than 'new girl.'"

"Way to go, Quick Draw McGraw." called out a voice from the class, directed at Blondie. The class chuckled, but Mr. Salvador ignored them, fixated on the girl's response.

She smiled at him. "I'm May. May Stevens."

"May Stevens." He repeated to himself, nodding. A smile slowly formed on his face. "Well, we're glad to have you aboard."

He explained to her the activity, and she seemed excited by it. She hopped up onstage without another word and turned back towards Mr. Salvador. "Who am I partnered with again?" She asked sweetly.

Great. I was forgettable to her. My heart sank as I started beating myself up internally. So much that I didn't even notice when Mr. Salvador pointed to me. The next think I felt was a poke in my arm. I was shocked to see May at the end of the poking finger, smiling at me. Her expression then softened. "Oh, I know you!" she exclaimed.

I smiled weakly and gave a small nod. She would have continued, but Mr. Salvador called for all A's to meet him for their emotion.

She turned to me. "Oh, by the way, if we're going to be partners, I'm always A." She said, and winked playfully as she walked off towards the group huddle. Was she flirting with me? No, of course she wasn't. She wouldn't. I'm way out of her league. It was only a wink. Friends can wink. Right?

She walked back to me, her mind clearly at work with whatever Mr. Salvador had given her. "Alright, Go!" Mr. Salvador called, and the auditorium was instantly full of shouting.

May began to walk, but started to stumble. She then composed herself and started to look around erratically. Her face was completely blank, as Mr. Salvador instructed, but it was still a vision of beauty. It took me a second to get out of my trance and start guessing.

"Um ... Nervousness?" I asked in an ironically nervous fashion. She kept up the act, so I guessed it wasn't it. "Caution?" I asked. She thought to herself for a second, then resumed her walk-stumble thing. " ... Drunk?" I asked, throwing up my arms.

She flashed me quick grin and a chuckle before composing herself. Oh my God, her full-on smile was something. I bet it could cure diseases. There was something about her eyes that made her smile what it was. You couldn't take one single part of her face and take it out of her smile. It all worked to make her face beautiful.

I shook my head again and focussed on her act. She was looking around more erratically now, like she was in a panic.

"Panic." I stated. Her hand went flat and wobbled, giving me the universal symbol for 'Kind of.' She then scratched her head and throw up her arms in frustration. I wasn't sure if she ran out of ways or was still acting, but after, she just put her finger to her lower lip and thought. She looked confused.

"Confusion," I said lamely, as a last guess. She grinned and nodded. "You got it!" She said happily, and we sat down. We were by no means the first group to get it, but we at least weren't the last. I looked at Blondie and his friend to see that they were still struggling. I couldn't help the smile that formed on my face.

My smile didn't last long, especially since Mr. Salvador told the class after everyone was sitting that it was now B's turn to act. I sighed as he called us forward, and joined the huddle. He was already assigning students by the time I got there.

Chapter 2 »