A/N: Yo homies, what it do?

What up with all the fics in Cinderella Story? It's like, half of them are Jonas Brothers, and then forty percent are originals. I think we should just cave and give the Jonas Brothers fics writers a whole section, just so we can actually find other stuff.

And have fanfiction make you go to a page that says, in big bold letters "ORIGINAL FICTION GOES HERE:

[Insert link to Fictionpress here.]

If you want to publish fanfiction, click here."

Like that.

Whatever. I just wanted to write this because Carter is cooler than Sam and Austin put together.

I used a different name for the DJ because for some reason, I can't see her as an Astrid.

Also, this is one those ones where I stayed up, ungodly hours into the night, because I wanted it posted RIGHT NOW and I didn't edit it.

Sorry bout that.

EDIT: I edited this. It now calls the DJ by her canon name, Astrid. How did I not see the awesomeness in the name before? I don't know. I think it's because I know what it means now. I also cleaned up a few other things. It's better now. You can also expect a follow-up in the days to come.

Disclaimer: If I owned Cinderella Story, Carter would have a whole movie instead of a commercial. And Austin's retarded friends would get hit by a bus, a la Regina George in Mean Girls. Which I don't even wish I owned, by the way.

Whatsername

Carter always thought she was weird.

Maybe he was being too judgmental-after all, he barely knew her. No, he didn't even know her name, so he didn't know her at all, so he was definitely being too judgmental.

But he did sit next to her in English. And he had noticed some things. Aside from the obvious, that is-her hair and wardrobe choices-he'd noticed that she rarely actually paid attention to what was going on in class. She was usually doodling, or scribbling down playlists or poems, things like that. Despite that, though, whenever the teacher called on her, she knew the answer, so either A., she knew how to pay attention and not pay attention at the same time; B., she did all the reading beforehand; or C., she was just an intelligent individual who already knew a lot of the things she was being taught.

Before class, she listened to her MP3 player, loud enough for Carter to hear-some songs he recognized, some he didn't-but she always knew when the bell rang, putting away the device just in time. After class, she whipped out the earbuds again, and had them in her ears before the bell was even finished ringing.

On the rare occasions that he listened to the morning announcements, he picked up the fact that she had a sense of humor.

And that was all he knew of the enigma that was Whatsername.

And maybe it was true that he had some strange fascination for her-his affections were all for Shelby, but that didn't mean he couldn't wonder about her. She was rarely seen speaking to anyone, except for teachers and the dance committees, and that made him wonder what was going on inside her head. What was she thinking about? It didn't help that he had no theories, aside from the obvious-music. Nobody thought about music nonstop. You could have music in your head nonstop, but you couldn't just think about how amazing music was without stopping.

He'd tried.

So while it was Shelby Cummings that held his attention the rest of the day, sixth period belonged to Whatshername.

For all the thought that he gave to her, it seemed strange to him that it wasn't until right after that fateful football game that he actually spoke to her.

He'd realized that he'd forgotten something in his locker, so while everyone else celebrated the school's victory, he was putting in the combination to his locker and was just opening it when he heard a voice say "You don't usually dress like that."

Considering the fact that he'd been under the impression that he was alone in the hallway, one can't blame for making a sound that was later described as "a cross between a yelp and girlish squeal" and yanking the door open so fast that his forehead didn't have time to get out of the way.

"Ow…" he muttered, turning around.

It was Whatsername standing there. Most people would be covering their mouths to hide a smile; she, on the other hand, was already doubled over with laughter, though she did manage to croak out "Sorry…are you okay?" through it.

"Yeah…" Carter said, rubbing his temple. He was irritated, but there was a part of him that could appreciate her honesty, the fact that she didn't hold back.

When she had recovered and was standing upright again, he asked "What did you say?"

"You mean before that happened?" she giggled, pointing at his forehead. "I was just pointing out that you usually don't dress like that."

"No."

"You usually dress like, a cowboy or a gangster or whatever."

"It varies day to day," he agreed, a little surprised that she'd ever even taken notice of his wardrobe choices; he'd always thought of her as a little oblivious.

"You should dress like this more often." She suggested.

"Uh, thanks…" he said warily, not sure if he was being mocked or complimented. "You don't usually dress like that either."

"Oh. Yeah," she said, looking down at her own outfit. She was wearing tennis shows, faded jeans and a sweatshirt with a logo for a band Carter had never heard of. She wasn't wearing any makeup, either, Carter noticed. He realized with a start that, even without the distinctive hair, he probably would have recognized her anyway.

"My brother dragged me here last minute." She continued.

"So you didn't actually want to come?"

She made a face of utter disgust.

"Ew, no. You did?"

"Kind of." He shrugged. He wasn't sure why he was feeling defensive about that, but he was, so he added, "What's it to you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Chill. I just hadn't pegged you as the school-sponsored event type."

Then it was Carter's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, because you're totally out of that loop, Miss DJ-At-Every-Dance-Slash-Morning-Announcer."

To his surprise, she smiled. "Yeah," she said slowly. "Good point."

Taken a little aback by this surrender, he gave a small nod and said "Thank you."

She nodded. "I better get going," she said. "My brother's probably waiting. See you in English, Carter."

"Uh, yeah…" he said. He felt guilty. If she knew his name, then he had no excuse for not knowing hers.

"It's Astrid," she said after a moment. She didn't sound insulted.

"Yeah. See you in English, Astrid!" he called as she was leaving, but the door had already shut behind her.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The next Monday, Carter was in a bad mood. The reason was that he'd forgotten to actually get what he'd gone to his locker for-the conversation with Astrid had distracted him-and seeing as that thing was a textbook, the result was that he didn't have his homework.

He slammed his locker shut in irritation and heard someone behind him say "Ah, exacting revenge, I see?"

He turned around and smiled despite himself.

"Hey, Astrid. You know, if I wanted to exact revenge, it would be on you."

"Oh, sure, it's my fault that you can't open a locker."

"No, it's your fault that you can't walk like a normal person."

"And that is?"

"Loudly."

She rolled her eyes. Shelby Cummings walked by right then, and smiled directly at Carter-after all, she needed new arm candy, and fast, as vengeance against Austin-but Carter didn't even notice. If he had, he wouldn't have cared.

"Whatever," she said. "So, I heard you got the lead in this year's musical."

He smiled at the thought. "Yeah."

"Congrats. I might actually come see this one. See you."

Once again, his response was lost-this time in the crowd of students-before it could reach her.

He turned around to find Sam, smiling at him, with Austin at her side, his arm around her waist.

"Were you just talking to Astrid Pearson?" Sam asked. Carter didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking.

'Well, at least he's moving on.'

He didn't voice this, however; all he said was "Yeah."

"Hm…" Austin said.

Carter turned to him. "What?" he asked, genuinely wondering what the former football star was thinking.

"I dunno, she just seems a little….weird."

Carter shrugged.

"She is," he agreed, "But that isn't necessarily a bad thing."