ღ P u s h , P u l l , T u g ღ

Who says a girl like me is honest? I always go back on my word.

For everyone: here's a oneshot, pulled right out of my ass. Feel free to tear it apart, rip it to shreds, admire it, or love it to pieces.

W a r n i n g : Rated for very course language and something else. –cough– There are darker characters as well. Also, they (as in the characters) are terribly OOC. Be warned.

I'm not perfect. Please tell me where my imperfections lie. Crit wanted. Admiration loved. And flames welcomed, too.

ღ B e g i n ღ

May Maple

Memoir Assignment

Advanced Composition

Fourteen years ago, Andrew Roselle walked right into my life. I was five. His luscious green hair was the color of grass on a fresh summer day; I couldn't believe it when he came up to me and said, "Hi." He was perfection.

It was awkward, as most people know. I was a little klutz with shabby brown hair and glasses. He was two years older than me.

We spoke frequently at recess through the fence that separated the preschoolers and kindergartners from the grade schoolers. My hands would be intertwined in the wires, and his hands would be wrapped around mine. We would only break away when it was time to go inside.

A year later, we were actually able see each other without the fence blocking our view. Andrew told me to call him "Drew."

Drew and I held hands all the time—we were inseparable. At one point, we kissed. It was behind the school, in the back lot. It was the happiest day of my young life.

In the middle of first grade, Drew moved. I cried for days because I thought I'd never see him again. My mother cradled me, kissed me and patted me on the head. It was then that I realized (with the help of my mom) that he was only the beginning of my life. I guess I was pretty smart for a six year old.

When I was eight I moved to Los Angeles. It was a big shock, coming from a small town in the middle of Wisconsin.

I met Misty in fourth grade. We talked about everything. I remember her saying, "Well, if we can't have it, it's not worth having." She had the brightest outlook on life I'd ever seen in a person. Her flame-red hair reminded me of the boy from so long ago: it was probably the vibrancy. It had to have been.

The new girl that enrolled in my fifth grade class was named Dawn—it was in the middle of the semester. We had three quarters left, and she wasn't shy. She was soon known by the entire school as the bouncy, bubbly, hyperactive girl from New York. It didn't take long for Misty and I to start liking her. Within two weeks we became the Terrible Threesome. You could call us popular.

The boys in fifth grade were really weird. They all kicked each other for fun, and brought vampire teeth to school to bite each other. Dawn made the mistake of going out with one of them. It was a mess. The boy was as cruel to her as he was before they were going out. I guessed he asked her out on a dare.

Sixth grade signified the next transition in an adolescent's life. Two weeks before school started, I compared schedules with Misty and Dawn. I didn't have a single class with either of them. We cried together in Dawn's room, holding each other for dear life under the pink canopy bed and the starry, glowing ceiling.

I started the new school not knowing what to expect. There was a hilarious boy named Ashley in my English and my Science class. He went by Ash. I sat with Dawn and Misty for lunch—Ash was more than happy to join us.

I knew something was up after the third day of school. The way Misty looked at Ash was just beautiful. I'd never seen her eyes sparkle more. She laughed at all of his jokes, even though some of them weren't funny. I could tell there was something going on between them.

That year we occasionally went bowling or ice skating, and just plain wreaked havoc on town. Our parents didn't really have control over us. I spent the majority of my sixth grade year trying to set up Ash and Misty. Dawn helped as well.

Fall passed, then winter, then spring. It was in June when I realized how green the grass in the park was. It reminded me of him. Andrew: Andrew Roselle. Hair as green as grass on a fresh summer day.

That day I ran home. And I mean ran. I didn't wait for Dawn, and I didn't wait for Misty. Ash was the only one who saw me take off.

"Yo, May! Where are ya going?" he called after me. He shielded his eyes from the glaring sun.

"I have to do something!" I yelled back at him. "I'll call you tonight!" With my heavy book bag pounding on my back as I ran, and I made it home in record time.

"May, honey," my mom began, "how was your last day of school?" She had on her bee apron and was slicing celery for dinner.

"Can't talk now, but it was great, thanks for asking. I have to do something—back in a bit!" I said as fast as I could, galloping up the stairs.

I grabbed my library card from the top of my desk, then sprinted down the stairs and out into the garage, where I grabbed my bike and took off to the public library.

When I arrived, I headed right over to the computers. Finally stopping to take a breath, I entered my pass code into the little screen.

"Welcome, May," it read. Taking another breath to slow down, I took my time in typing in Drew's name. I carefully spelled out A-N-D-R-E-W and R-O-S-E-L-L-E in the search engine. It took several seconds, and those seconds were spent holding my breath in complete silence. My heartbeat slowed and pounded in my ear. I couldn't hear another sound in the bustling library. It felt like I had held my breath for almost an hour.

Finally, the screen showed the answers I was looking for. Yet, not completely. There was a drop in my stomach when I looked at all the people: politicians, entrepreneurs, news anchors, fishers . . . All with the same name, or just "Andrew" in it, or "Roselle".

I logged off after three minutes or so while breathing slowly. My heart had dropped ten floors, all the way into the knotted pit of my stomach. I had really begun to believe that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. How there was no possible way that I'd ever see Drew again. Fate just wouldn't allow it. The only way I let go of the thought was by shrugging everything off as I rode home. I felt as free as I had ever been as my hair flapped around in the wind. The feeling of knowing something that had long since been buried was gone. I felt such total relief. The wispy clouds took on a pinkish hue, brightly contrasting the magnificent blue of the sky.

As I dropped my bike off in the garage, the brother who I rarely talked to opened the door and smiled, just slightly.

"Ash called," Max began, flipping his dark bluish-brown hair. "He wanted to make sure you were okay." He blinked, as if expecting me to thank him. So I did.

"Thank you, Max." I strained a smile. We had never really been the best of buddies. At least, not after the move.

I climbed the four stairs that lead into the house and shut the door behind me. An enticing aroma instantly grabbed hold of me. Max stumbled through the door that I had just shut in his face. "Wow, Mom!" I said. My attitude had completely changed from the preceding moments. I took in a deep breath of what Mom was cooking. "The soup smells delicious."

Mom called from around the kitchen. "Thank you darling. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

I hurriedly climbed up the stairs into my room. As I entered, the red ceiling made my heart flutter. The reason why I chose a red color scheme was because red was the color of love. And it was my favorite color. I never got tired of it.

As I threw myself onto my bed, I took a deep breath and replayed the day in my mind. I choked back a sob. The feelings from years ago instantly came back to me like an impending rainstorm; they became overwhelming. My stomach churned, and my chest felt like it was stabbed with a golden dagger. Tears threatened to spill. I guess I forced my feelings down for so long that it was about time that they caused me any trouble. I hadn't cried in months, and something as simple as not finding someone I hadhad a huge crush on so long ago had me almost erupting in a fountain of tears? I was jumping to conclusions: I knew it.

I shifted uncomfortably on my bed. Thoughts like 'Had Drew died?' flooded my mind. 'No,' I tried reasoning with myself, 'it would have been in the news. Or at least the obituaries.' The train of thought that led me to 'Had he moved to some foreign country like Canada?' suddenly seemed likely. Or something like that. Along those lines . . . I couldn't believe where my mind was taking to me. I tried to calm down. I tried to take another deep breath.

I rolled onto my side and stared blankly at the phone. The clock beside it read six-thirty. Reaching for the phone, I picked it up and jabbed Ash's number into the keypad.

I got an answer after several rings, as Mrs. Ketchum said politely, "Hello, you've reached the Ketchum residence, how may I help you?" The voice on the phone was soothing and honey-like.

"Mrs. Ketchum? It's me, May." I took another deep breath. "Do you mind if I speak to Ash?"

"Oh, May, darling! Absolutely dear, he's upstairs in his room." I heard some static and an occasional thump or two.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ash," I said.

"Oh, hey, May. What's up?"

"Ugh, nothing much, really. Just kind of stressed. I've been trying to get over something in my past. Not really working out. You?"

"Just drawing. The new Pokémon game is out, and I'm trying to draw some of the new pokémon."

"That's neat. So did you see Dawn and Misty after school?"

"Naw, they went to get ice cream without me. I think they told you about it." Ash said it so casually.

"Oh, crap!" My eyes widened. "I forgot!"

Then there was a silence. I heard my mom call for dinner.

"Hey, Ash, it's dinnertime." I apologized. "I have to go. Will you bring Misty and Dawn to Fred's tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. Talk later, May."

"Talk later."

I pressed the end button and placed the phone back on the charger. Sighing, I began to pick at my nails.

"May!" I heard my mom call. "Dinner's ready!"

"I'll be there in a few seconds!" I yelled back. Swinging my feet over the edge of my bed, I stretched and made my way down to the hallway leading to the rest of the house. Wiping off the stains of the tears that did fall out of my eye, I made my way downstairs.

"Good evening, May," my father greeted. We embraced in a hug.

"Good evening, Dad." I nuzzled my face into his shirt.

I grabbed the silverware from the drawer and began setting the table with Max. As we finished, Mom brought over the pot of chicken noodle soup and began ladling it out.

Summer passed, and I hung out with my friends more than ever. Seventh grade passed, then eighth grade. Seasons passed like days, and Dawn and I finally succeeded in getting Misty and Ash together. We would pretend to be lovers when we were with Misty and Ash. We'd hold hands, but only in a friendship kind of way. We wouldn't kiss, like they would, but it made Dawn and I feel more in touch with Misty and Ash.

In the middle of eighth grade when Dawn met Kenny after about ten years of separation. Then I became jealous. Dawn had Kenny, Misty had Ash, and who was I left with? No one. Yeah, it was okay, for a while. But I never had any alone time with my best friends anymore.

As we transitioned into high school, I met this beautiful senior named Solidad. We started hanging out on the weekends, and we'd spend more time alone than just Dawn, Misty and I ever did. Solidad and I would go to the movies and the mall: we became nightmares for managers.

"Shit, Solidad," I began. "You heard about that new movie, the one about the apocalypse? I want to see it so fucking badly!"

"Oh, I know! There's no fucking way we're gonna miss that one!" Solidad ran her fingers through her luscious nectarine hair. We were sitting on a bench together at the park.

"Hell yeah."

I paused long enough for Solidad to cut in. "Your hair looks like shit, May. How long has it been that disgusting?" She fake vomited, pretending to stick a finger down her throat.

"Fuck off, Solidad." I gave her the finger. "As long as I can remember. At least that. Probably since I was a baby."

"Let me take you to my hair stylist. She'll get you fixed up in no time. You'll be ten times hotter." She gave me a wry smile.

I hesitated. "Do you have a way to get rid of these fucking horrible glasses as well?"

"You know it. Give me the word: your wish is my command." We smiled at each other.

I might have been a little rebellious for the first two years of high school. Solidad hooked me up with her stylist, and my hair transformed into something out of the movies. It was choppy and layered, and looked so much better than it had been for the past fourteen years of my life. I rarely spoke to my brother and my parents those years. Our relationship had become so strained.

I started piling on the make-up—I looked less like me every day, and more into a woman I actually began to like.

Solidad and I skipped school so we could see the midnight premier of the movie Shadows. It was 10:30 PM and she and I were playing videogames in the movie theater's arcade. I jabbed the pinball machine like it was my brother's face or a punching bag. The colorful sounds irked the people working there, and Solidad and I screamed as loud as we could as I made a new record.

"Shit, May! That was fucking incredible!"

"I know!" I exclaimed. We exchanged a loud high five. The employees of the place grumbled loudly, wishing we would 'piss off.'

We spent the next hour and a half racing each other, taking pictures in photo booths, playing foosball, and lots of other games. At one point the theater manager threatened to kick us out if we didn't stop screwing around.

Midnight came, and Solidad and I were just two of hundreds of people coming to see the midnight premier of Shadows.

The opening credits flashed, and characters walked in and out of a party. Shadows crept around the house, and then there was an explosion. Intense music kept everyone on the edge of their seats, as the shadows began spitting up reapers and swallowing victims. It was then that they showed the four escapees, and my heart began to pound. One of them was a boy, my age, with green hair the color of grass.

"Shit!" I exclaimed quietly. I nudged Solidad.

"What?" she asked, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"Did you watch the opening credits?"

"No, why?"

"I think a boy I went to school with when I was younger is in this movie!"

"No fucking way! Which one?"

"The boy with green hair."

"Shit. Really? He's hot!" Solidad didn't take her eyes off of the screen while we had this conversation.

"I know! But how can I be sure?" I ran my fingers through my hair, and ground my teeth together.

"Another two hours won't hurt. You can check when the end credits roll." I could barely tell, but I knew Solidad was rolling her eyes.

I sat in anxious silence while the movie played. Over and over again it hit me like a ton of bricks. Was that where he had been? Acting?

If he was, I couldn't believe that I didn't find any information about him three years earlier. His hair was silky, but it was styled beautifully. I didn't want to believe I fell in love with him again.

Or maybe I never stopped liking him in the first place.

The rest of the movie became pointless. I began analyzing everything Drew did—whether he was a good actor, when he flipped his hair . . . He just became so—so mesmerizing! I pinched myself in the arm.

As the movie ended, the credits rolled, and right there, at the top of the cast list, read "Andrew Roselle." I embraced Solidad.

As I got home, I hopped on our new computer and went to his webpage, his fan page, and his work list. Shadows was his first movie.

Various websites said he was living in LA, going to some all boys private school about ten miles from my house. I could easily bike there.

For the next month I wrestled with ditching school for a day and going over to see if I could meet him. Eventually I did skip, and when I arrived at the school, I realized that there was a prison-like fence around the premises. I waited until after school for him. Many girls lined up along the fence line with me. I ditched them all—it was a boarding school and there was no way any of them were going to snag a peak at anyone.

Life went on. I moved up a grade and Solidad got accepted into some college in Oregon. I don't know how—maybe her grades weren't as horrible as I thought they were. I began to mellow out, but was still as reckless as ever. I hadn't spoken to Dawn, Kenny, Misty and Ash in about a year and a half. I was friendless until I met Harley. He was gay, but was funny as hell. We didn't hang out, but we made fun of each other from time to time.

Some time in the middle of tenth grade, I switched into an honors class. It was Honors English. It was kind of an important day because Dawn was in that class. She didn't look at me, but when she did, it was a look of pure ice. It stabbed my heart and made me want to cry. I didn't think she liked what I'd become. Or what had happened to me. I didn't even know what I wanted from life.

I shrunk away, and only spoke when the teacher called on me. A new game arose in that class, and it was called "Try to get May to Speak." They'd make fun of me and try to get a rise out of me. It made my blood boil. So I silently seethed.

I lashed out at one point, and got into deep trouble. I vandalized that English classroom, and was arrested by the police for tripping the silent alarm.

I was suspended for two weeks and spent an hour a day in counseling. My parents tried to comfort me, but I pushed them away.

It wasn't until junior year that I completely mellowed out. I didn't have any friends, but some of the druggies looked up to me, like I had done something they wanted to do all along, but didn't have the guts to. I didn't like being the center of attention.

In November, I tried to fix what had been done. I wrote three letters. One addressing Misty, another addressing Dawn, and the final addressing Ash. Ash's read:

Dear Ash,

I've been the worst friend ever. I guess I was kind of jealous of what you had with Misty. Don't tell me I'm right, or wrong, I just want you to hear me out. I made mistakes. It's been about three and a half years since I last spoke to you, and I've been falling apart every minute of it. You don't ever have to talk to me again, I just want you to know I'm sorry.

May.

PS: Don't tell Misty or Dawn about this. Or Kenny. Thanks.

It was 2:30 in the morning when I snuck out of my house and biked to his. I licked the envelope shut, and shoved it in his mailbox. I hoped he would see it the next morning.

At 3:30 I wrote one to Dawn. It read:

Dear Dawn,

I can't possibly imagine what you've been going through. After I left the group, things sort of went . . . downhill for me. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I got arrested, as you know. I've been troubled . . . It just seems the past comes back to haunt me. Every new movie I see, I see his face. His hair is the color of grass. I think I was jealous. Of you and Kenny, and Misty and Ash, that is. Nothing seemed right anymore. You don't ever have to talk to me again, I just want you to know I'm sorry.

May.

PS: Don't tell anyone about this. Thanks.

I didn't deliver it to her house, but instead I also wrote one to Misty. It read:

Dear Misty,

I can't believe it's been so long. I feel like such an idiot. I lost the best things that had ever happened to me three and a half years ago. You probably haven't even thought about me, being busy with Ash and Dawn and Kenny . . . First it was the Dynamic Duo: you and me. Then the Terrible Threesome: you, me, and Dawn. Then the Fearsome Foursome: you, me, Dawn, and Ash. I really regret the summer that separated us. I guess I was just jealous.

May.

PS: Don't tell anyone about this. Ever. Thanks.

It was 5:00 in the morning when I delivered the messages. I prayed that they weren't already awake.

So when I went back home, I forced myself to puke in the toilet by shoving my fingers to the back of my throat. It was very uncomfortable. I had the worst taste in my mouth.

I went into my parent's room and told them I was sick. They let me stay at home and sleep.

Things didn't get better until January. When I came back to school, I found several messages in my locker. They were acceptance letters. I read each of them carefully, over and over again. I began smiling at them when I passed them in the hallways. I was pretty sure nothing between us would ever be the same. Even still, it took them two months to reply.

Finally I found the courage to go the Drew's private academy. I skipped school to do so. As I rang the doorbell, a voice spoke out to me from a little speaker box.

"This is Joule's Private Academy for Boys, how may I help you?" It said.

"Uhm, hi," I began. It felt like the first words I'd said in years. They scratched my throat and made me feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, hello there. How may I help you?" The voice repeated.

"Yeah, I was wondering if Andrew Roselle goes to this school."

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer that question, Miss." His static-y voice unnerved me.

"Yes, but I'm not a fan. Well, I like his work, but . . ." I trailed off then looked through the fence again. I rubbed my hands together, and my breath froze with every word I spoke. "I don't think you understand, sir. I've known Drew since I was in kindergarten. Back when we lived in Wisconsin."

"Yeah, that's what they all say. You do know everyone knows where Andrew is from, right? Anybody could say that."

I began to feel irked. "Yeah, well not all of them can say Andrew Roselle was their first kiss!" I felt myself explode.

"Actually," the static voice said, "lots of girls can say that. Many of the actors Andrew has worked with have had him as their first kiss. Believe me."

I did explode. "Well then Andrew Roselle is a man-whore! A slut, I tell you! Has he ever been in love? I doubt it. Just let me talk to him," I snapped.

There was a long silence, and the only sound was that of the man fumbling with buttons, trying to open the gates. Finally, one of the fence-like doors swung open, and I hurried inside before he changed his mind and shut the door on me.

The trek to the school was hard—it was practically a forty-five degree angle up a slope of frozen grass. It was when I reached the actual double-door entrance to the school that I realized there were stairs on the opposite side of the grounds. A man pushed one of the doors open for me.

"Miss, err, Miss—" the receptionist stuttered.

"Maple," I said. "I'm here to speak to Drew Roselle."

"Yes, I know that," snapped the receptionist.

I placed a hand on my hip. "Well."

The man started scribbling some things on a worksheet, and handed me a pencil to sign in. I wrote my name and the reason I came here in big, fancy letters.

"Miss Maple," he began, in a more gracious tone. "Mr. Roselle is in Statistics right now. Would you like to wait for his class to finish or have me call him in?"

"Call him in, please," I said. I began to twiddle my thumbs nervously.

After a few excruciatingly long minutes, a slender woman with almond hair walked up to me. She motioned "This way."

I follow her down many hallways, lobbies, and staircases, when we finally reach dorm room 286. "Mr. Roselle will be in in just a minute, Miss."

"Thank you." I nodded my head and she walked off. 
As I entered the room I smelled the scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate. There was a bunk bed, and I instantly noticed a wooden vanity and a brush littered with velvet green hair. This is Drew's room, I thought. Then I pinched myself: No duh, it's Drew's room.

The door clanked, and I heard it unlock itself. Drew entered the dorm looking at the ground. When he looked up, there was a vacant expression on his face.

"I was expecting my uncle," he said serenely. He stood there a while, then walked toward me and took a seat on the bottom bunk. It was littered with CDs.

"Well, I'm not exactly him, am I?" I tried to say as calm as possible. It was no use; my voice was wavering like a flag half-mast on a windy day.

There was a long moment of silence, and the only sound in the room was of our breathing.

"You're a senior now, aren't you?" It was more a fact than an actual question. I found myself hoping that my cherry lip gloss was impressing him.

"Mmhm," he groaned. His voice was like honey. I wished I could kiss him one more time. Yet I was pretty sure he didn't even remember who I was.

My suspicions were validated when he asked solemnly, "Who are you?"

I answered a minute later. "I'm a ghost. I'm coming back to haunt you." There wasn't anything in his eyes that showed recognition. He didn't cough, or laugh. I tried to keep on a straight face. "I'm a long lost love."

Drew looked down into a corner of the room. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Whether he was going back to twelve years ago, when we first met, or to some girl he fancied after he moved. I couldn't read a line on his face for all I was worth. He used to be so emotional, but at that moment he seemed like a zombie.

I finally took a seat at the vanity. "I cried when I saw your face at the midnight premier of Shadows. It had been so long . . ." I trailed off.

"I've been busy," he said. Then Drew flipped that gorgeous hair. He looked at me in the eye, right then. There was a long, awkward silence. It felt like we were suspended in time, and everything around me seemed to melt away.

"Who knew we'd end up in the same place?" I still didn't know if he recognized me.

"You reminded me of spring," he finally said. "Your name . . . and your hair. Your glasses . . ."

"I wasn't pretty."

"You weren't." Drew reclined back onto the messy bed. I kept eye contact. "I pushed you away from my memories. At least I thought I did." His head fell back to look at the bottom of the mattress of the top bunk. We sat in serene silence once again.

I turned around to fiddle with the items on his vanity. The room was covered with dark blue walls and a depressingly green carpet. I opened a drawer and grabbed a comb. I ran it through my bangs. As I put it down, I looked right into my own eyes through the mirror, and saw the girl from so long ago. I wore awkward glasses and had tragic hair. "I would have pushed me away from my memories as well." Then I saw me right then. Feathery brown hair, and stunning blue eyes, free from any glasses. My skin was flawless because of the pound and a half of makeup. My eyes were painted with a bright green. I turned around to face Drew again. "Am I forgettable now?"

He brought his eyes to mine. "Perhaps." I couldn't tell whether he was serious or not.

"It's taken me a long time to get to where I am now."

"And me as well."

I held back a tear. "I've screwed up more times than I can count. I got in trouble with the law and I lost all of my friends. You wouldn't know what that feels like." I closed my eyes and faced a different direction.

"I would." His voice soothed me, so I looked at him again. He was still reclined ever-so-coolly on the bed. "Because of me, my parents are dead. I've lost all of my friends as well, and I let the person I love get away."

More silence. "And that would be?"

"You."

I couldn't believe what I was saying. I knew I liked him, but I had never loved anybody. I couldn't stand it. I stood up abruptly, and knocked over the chair while doing so. "That's not possible! We were five!"

Drew averted his gaze and made busy with opening and closing the closest jewel case. "You just heard a movie star tell you he loved you, and you reply with a hot-headed retort about how that couldn't be the case? You must be out of your mind." Instantly, Drew scoffed.

"Well, maybe I am." I pulled the chair back to an upright position and sat back down. If there was a window, I would have looked out upon the frigid landscape. There was no snow, but the grounds looked so desolate and cold. Anything to get away from that stare—that heart-stopping, heart-wrenching stare.

Drew stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, where he reached up and grabbed a camera that was hanging from the ceiling. There was a little flashing red light on the top of it.

"Drew?! You were filming us?" I sounded hurt, even to my own ears. I muttered, "Bastard."

"No, I wasn't, for your information," Drew cut in harshly. He pulled out a wire and the flashing red light went dead. "There are security cameras in every room of this school." He looked at me again from the corner of his eye. "For our protection," he added. Suddenly, he turned to face me. "There are no bugs, so nothing we said was recorded. It just looked like we were talking—like nothing happened." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and cocked his head to the side. He made a noise like a tiger. "You should stand up."

"Or I could remain sitting," I offer. I knew boys were crazy, but I had no clue what Drew was up to. He walked up to me, grabbed my hand ever so slightly, and raised me up with the gentlest touch.

"I want to show you something," he whispered softly in my ear. For me, this was too close for comfort. I tried pushing him away, but Drew wrapped his arms around me, hard enough for me to know I was unable to escape. His warm lips trailed from my ear to the very edge of my mouth. His mouth was like a butterfly, and he smelt of a vanilla and peppermint candle. "Come with me," he said. Drew pulled away, as quickly as it had started.

As he opened the door for me, I stole a quick glance of the disarmed surveillance camera. What were the security guards going to think if one of their cameras suddenly stopped recording?

I tried to walk calmly down the paneled corridor. As Drew shut the door behind him, he quickened his pace to catch up to me. I looked cautiously at him—I hoped I wouldn't be sorry for whatever was going to happen to me later.

We walked side by side down different dorm corridors, through various staircases, and all the while Drew didn't touch me: something I was grateful for. As we reached a sign reading 'exit,' my nervousness got the best of me.

"Drew?" I coughed quietly, hoping he'd stop for a moment so we could speak. But he didn't, so we kept moving.

Drew stopped in front of the door. I eyed him curiously. "Don't worry," he laughed, suddenly lightening up. I staggered back a bit from the change in his demeanor. "Here," he offered, holding out a hand. "Let me take your jacket."

Pulling off my heavy red coat, I handed it to Drew, who in turn shed his green uniform cardigan, revealing a neatly ironed white dress shirt with a green tie. I put together that the school colors must've been green and white. Drew was clad in green pants as well.

I guess he noticed that I was extremely skeptical: he reassured me that "nothing was going to happen." I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Discarding the items of clothing on the floor (which I thought very odd, since he made a big deal to take it from me in the first place), Drew opened the door revealing a very open, warm, and light room, completely made out of windows. My mouth twitched into a large smile as I entered, looking around at the room. You could see miles in every direction, and there was absolutely nothing blocking the view. Potted plants littered the room, and trees sprouted from small patches of dirt between blocks of cement.

"Drew, is this a—?"

"Yes, May." I could feel his studious eyes reading my reaction. "It's a greenhouse."

"It's beautiful!" I exclaimed. As I spun around, I looked at the array of gorgeous colors that painted the flowers with life.

Drew walked over to a small extension of the greenhouse. I followed, almost skipping at the joy the plants had brought me. As I neared where he was standing, I noticed with discretion his name on the door. Cautiousness came flooding back to me. The door was made of a dark wood, and I could barely see around into the room from where I stood.

There was a gleeful smile plastered on Drew's face—I hadn't ever seen him this happy. "Come on!" he nudged. "Go in!"

I tried to smile. Pushing the door open, I realized that all my worries were for nothing. A golden light seemed to flood into the room, and, basking in it, were roses everywhere. The space could be no more than ten feet by ten feet, but there were possibly three hundred different roses relaxing on an assortment of shelves.

There were crimson roses, brick roses, blood roses, and cherry roses. There were blush roses, lemon roses, snow roses, and coral roses. So many roses were there that I thought there couldn't be any more colors in the world. Their green stems glowed with a brightness that made all my misery melt away. I faked fainting, and Drew scrambled to catch me.

Nuzzled in his chest, I felt Drew wrap his arms around me. I shut my eyes, and the warmth from his body made me melt like cream. His vanilla scent enveloped me, and we sat there on the floor for what felt like an hour. I felt our hearts beat in synch, one slow beat after another. He inhaled, I exhaled . . . We breathed each other in. I looked into his shining eyes, and didn't see that depressed movie star from earlier—the one who had just gotten out of Statistics. I saw the boy who, maybe, I had fallen in love with so many years ago.

As I took in one of his soft breaths, I confessed, "You reminded me of summer . . . with your hair. Your hair: the color of beautiful, lush summer grass." Drew merely smiled, gazing into the frigid, towering wasteland that was Los Angeles. "I screwed up pretty bad. Not just with my friends, my family, but with you too, Drew. I never said goodbye."

"Then that means I never left." Drew closed his eyes and tilted his head back. I relaxed my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes as well.

Silence followed for a relaxingly long time, before I mustered up the courage to ask, "What happened to your parents?"

Drew's body suddenly became more alert. His muscles tensed, and I immediately regretted the question.

"I . . . I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—shouldn't have asked . . ." I looked to one of the many roses.

"No, no . . . It's fine," he says. "It was after my first school play—when I was in the sixth grade." I looked back up at him again. His eyes glazed into something trance-like. "We were driving home, and my parents were telling me what a great job I did. They were so excited. They wanted me to be an actor—because I wanted to be an actor." A breath. "My mom glanced away from the road for just one second to smile at me. It was then that a truck trying to run a red light collided right into us. The car was busted up pretty bad—I remember going to the hospital in an ambulance, so scared because my parents weren't with me. A couple days later, in the hospital, one of the nurses told me that they were dead on arrival. They tried to save them, but . . ."

"It was just too late," I finished. I realized then that my life wasn't as bad as his. I did have parents. I did have friends I could get back to. If I wanted to, at least. And if they let me.

We sat in a dead silence before I slowly clambered to my feet. Drew rose, and slipped his hands into mine.

"I have something for you." Drew pulled me over to one of the shelves. He plucked a perfectly plump blood-red rose, and handed it to me with a small smile. I took it from his perfect hands, and brought it up to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the token of affection.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. "Is it okay that you're ditching class like this?" I asked.

"It's fine," Drew said, with a wave of his hand. "I have straight A's anyway. The school pretty much lets me to whatever I please. Besides, I know most of the content anyway."

"Wish I could say the same for myself," I told him. "I'm a straight B-C student. Haven't gotten an A since eighth grade."

"Well, I could help you with that, you know? What math course are you taking?"

"Algebra 3-4. But I think it's more US Government that I need help on. I'm doing well in English. It's more my forte than anything else."

Our hands were still intertwined. It was like kindergarten all over again. Drew's hands were warm and soft—and it felt like best feeling I had had in my entire life.

We parted ways an hour later, and as Drew gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, I left the school with a gorgeous rose, a token of my movie star's affection.

I went to school the next day with the rose in my hand. People gave me queer looks as though whoever fancied me must have no taste, and was asking for trouble. They didn't know that the man who fancied me was known by practically everyone, and was worshipped by many girls.

As I entered my English class, some of the boys stared at my rose. The girls scoffed, figuring I must have bought it myself, solely for the attention.

A girl next to me actually asked. "Where'd you get the rose?" she whispered, staying out of the teacher's line of sight.

"Andrew Roselle gave it to me."

She instantly shrieked. The class abruptly stopped, and the teacher shot her a look, obviously telling her to keep her cool. "Liar!" she hissed through her teeth.

"No, it's true," I said. "I went to Joule's Private Academy for Boys, and they let me in. Drew ditched Statistics to see me." It was somewhat true. He did ditch Statistics, but he didn't know it was me. He expected his uncle.

"I don't believe you." She ground her teeth.

"Believe what you wish—I know what happened." I picked at one of my fingernails.

"What the hell have you smoking this time?" The girl looked back at the teacher. She mumbled, "It's red, no less! The color of love . . ."

By fourth period it had gone around the school that Andrew Roselle had given me a red rose. I got many glares, and many disbelieving frowns.

"How much you wanna bet she's doing it for the attention?" one spoke with his friends, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes.

"She's such a liar," another commented.

"She's on drugs—that's the only explanation for something that ridiculous."

"Hey, Frankie. You have one of your classes with her, right? Find out if she's high for me, will ya?"

By the end of the school day, I was so sick of the rumors. Even Ash didn't believe me. Not like I'd spoken to him, though. I could just tell by the look he was giving me all day.

As I got home, I placed the rose into a vase gently. I went upstairs and grabbed my phone.

I dialed Misty's number, not having a clue of how I was going to talk to her. But she answered, and I did. I can't remember what we said, but I knew we were patching up some long-forgotten scars. As I hung up, the timer said we talked for forty-five minutes. New record.

I sped through my homework, sloppily writing whatever I thought the answer was, not really caring if I got the answer right or wrong.

I called Dawn, but she didn't answer. I left a short message, saying something along the lines of "I just called to see how you were doing. Hoping I could patch some things up before senior year. Call me back, 'kay, thanks, bye."

It was February when I first ate lunch with them again. It was really awkward—Kenny was with Dawn, and Ash was with Misty. I had no one. But I guess it came along with the territory.

"Listen, I want to apologize for the last few years," I began.

Misty cut me off. "It's no big deal—you had your shit, we had ours."

"Yeah, but you didn't have shit, Misty! I was completely screwed over."

"Listen," Ash began, "if it weren't for you in the first place, I would have never met Misty. I'll always thank you for that." He smiled, and squeezed Misty's hand, looking at her endearingly.

"Yuck!" I spat jokingly. I started laughing, and then everyone laughed. Misty was so beautiful—she grew out her spiky orange hair, and now it was beautifully soft and long. It fell upon her shoulders like a nightgown, smooth and flowing. Ash's hair was less straggly, but still unkempt. They were a perfect match.

Dawn interjected with a loud laugh, and then told me that her mother had thrown a fit in the middle of ninth grade, and cut most of her hair off. It was now shoulder length, and glistened in the harsh lights of the cafeteria. She picked at her spaghetti, then smiled as Kenny began massaging her shoulders.

I guess Dawn realized the look on my face, and then quickly said, "I'm sure you'll find someone, May. There's definitely a guy out there for you."

I remembered in eighth grade when Dawn and I pretended to be lovers. It was all innocence, but it was the closest thing I had to a relationship besides those scarce hours with Drew. I must have gone silent, because instantly the table started buzzing with apologies.

"No, it's fine," I began. "There is someone, but I haven't seen him in ages." It was an exaggeration, but the month had in fact felt like ages.

"Oh!" Misty and Dawn squealed. "What's his name? You have to tell us!" Ash and Kenny merely rolled their eyes.

"His name is . . ." I paused for dramatic effect. "Drew!"

"Uh-uh." Dawn looked at me with disbelief scribbled all over her face—as did Misty. "The boy you were talking about so long ago? You found him?"

"Yeah, Andrew Roselle—"

Kenny cut me off with an "I don't believe you."

"Hush!" Dawn hissed. She squeezed his hand hard enough for him to exclaim, "Ow, ow!"

"You found him?" Misty asked again. She stroked her hair like it was silk.

"Yeah," I began, "about a month ago. I read somewhere that he went to the Joule's Private Academy for Boys. The school is ten miles from my house. A convenient enough location: I could bike there without a hassle."

Misty and Dawn eagerly nodded their heads. I couldn't tell whether they were being polite, or if they really were interested.

I told them the story from the beginning. How in ninth grade I went to see the movie Shadows with Solidad—and saw Drew as one of the main characters.

As I finished, I realized that only real friends would listen like that. Listen to a friend telling of the story of her love being practically unreachable, and to a movie star no less.

It was then that I realized time gaps no friendships. Change does, but not time. Acceptance is key. And since Misty, Dawn, Ash and Kenny accepted me for who I had become, we'd still be the best of friends.

It was the day before Valentine's Day, and it was also Friday. I asked my mom if I could borrow some money. She happily obliged, after I told her it was for Valentine's Day.

"Oh, that's so wonderful, dear! I'm glad you're getting into the spirit of the holiday!"

"Yeah," I said, "thanks, Mom." We smiled at each other, me ever so slightly, my mom with a huge grin. Our bond had tightened since I lost control three years earlier.

As I walked to the supermarket, I was thinking about Saturday. Should I pay a visit to Drew, or should I spend the day with my friends? I eventually came upon the decision to spend the day with Drew since Misty would probably spend the day with Ash and Dawn would probably spend the day with Kenny. I walked through the supermarket's automatically opening door, and approached the flowers section.

I initially thought I should buy Drew some roses, but then decided against it since he already had so many—more than enough for one person. So instead, I bought him some fuchsias. They hung beautifully from their stems, and were the most beautiful flowers in the store. I picked the fuchsias with purple and pink buds.

I headed over to the cards section, where I picked out four lovely cards for my friends, and a blank card with a glitter rose featured on the top for Drew.

When I got home, the sun had already set, and I climbed the stairs to my room to write out the cards. I signed Sincerely, May in loopy cursive for each one, and set Drew's aside for personalization.

I reached for Drew's card after I finished everyone else's. I began writing.

Dear Drew,

It's been twelve years since I first met you, and even back then we were crazy about each other. I didn't think I loved you until you told me that the only girl that ever got away was me. I didn't think I loved you until you gave me the rose. I didn't think I loved you until I realized that the reason I couldn't stop thinking about you was because I did in fact love you. I don't know why your favorite flowers are roses, but I know my favorite color is red and your favorite color is green, and maybe that's why your favorite flowers are roses. I can't believe I could have liked someone as long as I liked you. Scratch that—love. Red roses symbolize love. You gave me a red rose. And now, I'm returning the favor. This red rose on the cover is covered in glitter. I hope you like it.

Yeah, I know I'm really cheesy.

Love, May

I coughed. I even told him how cheesy it was. Valentine's Day, and a love note. Yes, it's a very overused cliché.

The next day I rode my bike and delivered the letters to Dawn and Misty and Ash. Since I didn't know where Kenny lived, I put his card in Dawn's mailbox.

I biked with the fuchsia plant in the basket of my bike to Joule's Private Academy for Boys. The man in control of the gate opened the door for me—he'd gotten the memo that I was always welcome there. Many girls had also arrived, entering to be with their boyfriends, since the boys weren't allowed out of the premises. Well, only a few girls, since many of the schoolboys didn't know too many girls.

I wandered around the hallways hopelessly with a useless map, when I ran into a tall, lanky, plum-haired boy.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped. He veered around me and walked away hastily.

"Wait!" I called after him. "Can you help me find a room?"

"This isn't a hotel."

"Yeah, I know that, thank you very much. I'm trying to find Andrew Roselle."

"Name's Paul, and if it's Drew you're trying to find, then I can't help you. He's already stressed out enough as it is." The boy named Paul turned on a heel and started walking away.

"So you do know him!" I exclaimed. I ran after him, and start walking with large strides by his side, trying to keep up with him.

"Nngh," Paul snorted. He took an immediate right into another hallway. I jerked and tried to catch up with him.

"No, I'm not some crazy fan-girl! I promise." I tried to make myself sound believable. Then I said something only someone Drew personally knew would know. "He showed me his rose garden."

The purple-haired boy halted. He looked to the ground, suddenly curious about how I knew about the rose garden.

"Okay, fine. You win." Paul looked up at me. His eyes were like daggers—icy and all-knowing. He began walking briskly in the opposite direction, and I duly followed him.

We finally reached room 286. I knocked, and Paul took off as soon as he was free of me.

"Come in," came a voice.

"It's locked."

I heard someone fumble with the lock, and when the door opened, I saw Drew's sparkling green eyes. "Oh, hey," he said. "What brings you here?"

"Duh," I tell him. "It's so obvious. It's Valentine's Day."

Drew laughed. He opened the door wider so that I could come in.

I shed my white knit sweater, and hung it over the chair by the vanity. The fresh scent of cinnamon was familiar on my tongue. "I brought you a plant."

He smiled. I knew he would. "For your collection," I added. Drew then moved on to study my empty hands. "It's not here," I laughed.

"Oh. That makes more sense." Drew's genuine smile made me melt.

We stood in silence; I'd grown used to it recently. Drew was a man of few words, and (but instead of and?) what little he did say was good enough for me.

Drew motioned with his finger for me to come closer. My mouth tugged into a wide grin, and I stepped nearer.

By then the room was getting really hot. Drew's hand wrapped around my waist, and I jumped because it tickled. His firm grasp pulled me closer, and his handsome face was right in front of mine. I breathed in his breath—he had just recently brushed his teeth. Did he know I was coming?

Our bodies pressed up against each other, and I could feel his heartbeat through my chest. His warm skin against my arms made my skin tingle—I wrapped my arms round his neck. I looked right into his eyes, and my sea melted into his land.

I stood on my tiptoes, and Drew's heartbeat and breath came into perfect synch with mine. It was like that one day, earlier that winter, where we held each other for what felt like hours in front of his hundreds of roses.

Drew pressed his warm lips against mine. We closed our eyes, and everything in the room disappeared. Drew and I were suspended in the heat of the moment, held on only by a single thread of consciousness. My eyes fluttered by the pure bliss of his lips on mine. I squeezed his neck tighter with my arms, and his grip around my waist grew stronger. Our bodies were pressed furiously against each other, and Drew scooped me up, planting kisses all on my neck and cheeks. He carried me out of the room, and shut the door behind him. With Drew's arms supporting my hips and legs, I threw my head over his shoulder and whispered, "I've always dreamt of how this would feel."

Drew continued walking, the bounce in his step tossing me up and down in his arms. "Does it meet your expectations?"

My eyes were still squeezed shut, and I began to say, "No . . . It's better."

I shifted my weight so that Drew could carry me more easily. He descended the stairs with me in his arms as if I were light as a feather.

I opened my eyes when he stopped walking, and realized that we were in the middle of a large courtyard. It was completely empty. Marble benches perched themselves under trees and around tables, near bushes and by statues. It was beautiful. Yet freezing. I began wishing that I had brought my sweater.

Drew placed me gently on a bench that was sitting gracefully under an oak tree. He sat right next to me. I slipped my hand into his, and he grinned. Drew turned to face me, and maneuvered his hands perfectly so that they encompassed my face. The warmth felt incredible against the cold atmosphere of a leaving winter. Then, he swooped in and gave me another kiss. I instantly began kissing back, and the ferocity with our kisses could have matched a lion hunting its pray. We hungrily kissed each other, forcing our tongues into the other's mouth. His tongue slid perfectly into my mouth, and I licked it while it was still there. When he retreated I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and forced him to lie down on the bench. With my knees on the outskirts of Drew's hips, I kissed him from above, ravaging him like my pray. Our noses crashed into each other's cheeks as we pressed our mouths tightly together.

My knees slipped on the bench and I landed right on Drew's chest with a thud. Going along with the flow, Drew wrapped one of his legs around my waist, and the other around my legs. "Mm," I moaned. I messed up Drew's perfect green hair with my hungry hands, and he squeezed my torso with his iron grip. The bitter coldness of the February air without a jacket was excruciating, but I barely noticed it in Drew's warm embrace. I licked his lips and then planted a kiss right on them. Drew didn't seem to like me controlling—so he forced his lips onto mine with such authority that I had to sit on Drew's lap as he grabbed hold of my roots. His breathing became heavy, and he pulled away. Then I opened my eyes. He did as well. I extended my legs so that they protruded behind Drew's back. I was comfortable sitting on his lap.

I decided that I wouldn't give Drew the card or the fuchsia. We smiled at each other one more time before I gave him one last gentle kiss.

"Do I get my plant?" Drew asked, with a subtle flicker about his eyes.

I laughed, very slightly. "Yes," I lied.

Then I frowned. The flicker in his eye went away and was replaced by curiosity. I shoved him back down on the bench and kissed his mouth. I moved my mouth to his cheek, then the edge of his chin. I fluttered my eyelashes on his cheek and kissed his neck. Drew closed his eyes, and so did I. Planting more kisses on his neck, I moved to his chest, but stopped when I reached the bottom of his shirt. As I got up off of Drew, I glanced at him. He wanted more, I could tell.

So I told him, "If you want more, you're gonna have to come and catch me!" I jumped off his lap and started running around the courtyard as Drew got up out of his seat to run and catch me.

Up until that point, I had never had a happier moment. If I had, it was right up there. But three weeks later, the unthinkable happened.

"What is this?!" I shrieked. The entire supermarket stole glances at me, but I didn't care. Right on the cover of 'CelebNow' magazine was Drew and I. I frantically pulled out the cash from my wallet and paid for the magazine, thanking the cashier as I left.

I seethed as I walked through the door to my house.

"Welcome home, May, honey," Mom greeted. She took a look at me and instantly changed personas. "What's wrong? Did someone do something to you?"

"Yes and no." I frowned, but tried to smile for my mother's sake. "Let me sort this all out. Everything will be okay."

"Whatever you say, honey . . ." my mom said. She went back to reading her paper, and the overcast clouds went back to pouring out my frustration. With the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof, I clambered up the stairs and shut the door to my room.

As I pulled the magazine out of the bag, I read the cover. Andrew Roselle gets it on with a girl on Valentine's Day! Get the juicy details here. There was a picture of me smiling and the back of Drew's head. Oh, shit, I thought. It was a pretty good shot—it looked like it was taken by an HD camera. Like a tabloid could afford an HD shot of a movie star and his new girl. I flipped to the table of contents, where a panel showed me and Drew kissing. It just kept getting worse. Finally I reached the page with the main article. It was annoyingly long. Not to mention loaded with pictures of our little escapade. My heart crushed into a pile of rubble.

Andrew's New Girl

By: Sybil Saffron

Andrew Roselle, the teenage sex symbol, gets it on with an unknown lady. They were seen and photographed together on Valentine's Day this year. Nobody knows much about this girl, except that she isn't an actress, singer, or any kind of performer. She seems to love herself very much, according to the amount of makeup she was wearing. If you look closely at photograph E5, underneath that flawless coating of makeup is an ugly boar rearing its head. But it didn't seem to affect Andrew that much—in fact, it looked like he didn't even care! We rarely see the teenager outside of school, much less see him making out with his new sex toy. In fact, is it even legal? From the looks of it (Photograph E7), it does look like they were fucking each other with clothes on!

Stated by a reliable source, "I'd never seen her around Andrew before—anywhere! It seemed like she just showed up out of the blue, and forced herself on him. If you ask me, it's an unhealthy relationship: Andrew lives in the school all year, and visitors are rarely accepted. She's probably just another attention-whore, waiting for her shot at fame. I wouldn't be surprised if you see her on a future reality show."

After his debut movie Shadows, which raked in the dough, climbing the box office charts to win its way up to being the fortieth highest-grossing movie ever, Andrew came out with two new movies, leading us up to today. Currently, one more of his movies is in post-production. No word yet on how his co-star is reacting to this scandal.

I stopped reading not even halfway through. My eyes boiled with tears, and I grabbed the phone that was lying next to my bed. With the hot tears streaming down my face, I dialed Dawn's number. After she didn't answer, I frantically called Misty.

"Hello? This is Misty."

"Misty!" I cried. My voice wavered tragically. "Oh, thank God!

"May?" Misty's voice cracked. "May, is that you?"

"Uh-huh," I mumbled. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fell onto the bed.

"Oh, my God! What's wrong, May? You sound terrible!"

"It's what they said about me . . . in the—in the . . ." My lip trembled and I looked at the ceiling fan.

"Spit it out, May!" Misty's voice shook me back to reality.

"'CelebNow Magazine'. That's what happened to me."

"What, that tabloid magazine?" I could hear Misty shift positions with the phone. Her voice wasn't as panicked.

"That's the one," I moaned.

"Shit, May . . . Just hang tight—I'm getting Dawn. We'll be over in ten minutes!" She paused, then added, "After all, that's what friends are for, right?" The last sentence made me feel better.

"Yeah," I whispered. I then ended the conversation by hanging up the phone.

I wallowed in silence, thinking of Misty's undivided attention to my pain, until I heard the doorbell. My mom answered it, and I heard her exclaim, "Misty, Dawn! You haven't been down here in a while. Would you girls like some coffee?"

"No, thanks, Mrs. Maple. We're here on strict business." It was Dawn. I let a smile break free. The ache in my heart lessened just slightly.

Their feet made thump-thumping noises as they climbed up the stairs. Dawn and Misty both knocked on my door. I told them to come in, and they so they did.

"What's been eating at you?" Misty asked with sympathy in her voice, looking at my disheveled appearance. I shoved the magazine in her face. "Yikes," she said. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, it's me, Misty!"

"Okay, okay, gosh!"

Dawn piped in, "You shouldn't believe a tabloid magazine, May." Her eyes widened animatedly, like they always used to. "They're made of paper! Who trusts a magazine made of paper?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Lots of people!" I interjected.

Misty shook her head, with either disappointment of disbelief. I couldn't tell. "That's not how it goes," she said. "People read the tabloid magazines, just to get the juicy info, but they don't believe what they read. Make sense?"

I frowned. "Will you guys just read the article? It's pretty convincing." As I handed them the tabloid, I told them what page the article was on.

Dawn and Misty's eyes traveled on the article at the speed of light, and they finished in less than five minutes.

Dawn looked up and chimed, "How can you believe this shit, May? It's terrible!"

"Not to mention that it was written horribly," Misty coughed. She put a hand on my shoulder. "You of all people should know: the English whiz." Yeah, May Maple, an actual whiz at something. Right. The effort was nice though.

"Not to mention that they used the f-word! Who does that in magazines nowadays?" Dawn added.

"Mark of an amateur . . ."

I half smiled, and Misty winked at me. I started wanting to blame Drew: it was him who took us out into the wide open courtyard. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself.

"Hey!" Dawn snapped. As if reading my mind, she wagged a finger at me and said, "Andrew wouldn't have anything to do with this. It would be bad publicity."

"How would you know about publicity?" I asked skeptically. Dawn shrugged, and tossed a look at Misty. I couldn't decipher it. They took a seat with me on my bed, and fell back into the comforters. Misty grabbed my arm, and pulled me down so that I was squished right in between my two best friends. It got so silent, that all we could hear was our breathing, and the beating of the rain on the roof. There was a faint sound emanating from downstairs. Max was probably watching TV.

We laid in silence for five minutes, just looking at the ceiling. Dawn intertwined her hands in mine, so I did the same with Misty. Their hands were warm.

As the rain faded, a light flickered through the window. "When's the last time do you think we've done this?" Dawn pondered aloud.

"Not less than two and a half years, for sure," replied Misty. I squeezed both of their hands tightly. They returned the favor.

"You know, I thought you guys had forgotten about me or something. You must have thought I'd gotten into some deep trouble."

"Well yeah, after you started hanging out with that senior, Solly or something—"

"Solidad," I corrected.

"Anyway," Dawn continued, "we knew something had been troubling you. So we stayed away."

"That was nice of you." Sarcasm oozed from my voice. I sat up. Misty and Dawn did the same.

"Do you guys want to play Monopoly?" Misty inquired. I looked over to the corner of my room where there was a stack of games.

"Sure, why not?" I agreed. Misty jumped from the bed and grabbed the game; a few other games toppled over.

We laughed and set up the game board. Together, like we always had . . . just years before.

Two weeks passed without hassle, and Drew assured me that it wasn't his fault. I believed him. Like Dawn had said, he told me that it was bad publicity. That was the only time I had visited him in the two weeks, and we hadn't even kissed. We agreed to take it slower.

On the third day of the second week, I got a call. I was doing homework for my science class when I answered the home phone.

"Hello, is May there?" the voice asked.

"You're talking to her," I said.

"Oh, May! It's so good to hear your voice again!" The static over the phone concealed her real voice.

"Uhm . . ." I stuttered. "Who's this?"

"It's Solidad, May! Do you remember?"

"Solidad? Really?"

"Yeah!" replied Solidad.

"Oh my God, what happened to you? You went off to college and didn't call me or anything!"

Solidad laughed. "It's funny," she began, "my mom cut off my cell phone privileges right before I started college, so I lost your number. I found it just recently scribbled in a notebook with some math notes I saved from high school." I imagined her smiling.

"Well, it's nice that you called me. I was kind of a burnout after you left. Didn't really have any friends until just recently."

"Sorry, May. I can't control my age." Solidad let out a bright laugh. It made me smile. The conversation was going way too fast for my liking.

I continued. "You're in your sophomore year of college, right?"

"Correctomundo," said Solidad.

"And how's that treating you?"

"It's treating me well." I was glad. "I have a beautiful boyfriend."

"Ooh, tell me all about that!" We laughed.

For the next hour and a half, we spoke on the phone, catching up on our lives without each other. "Did you see me on the magazine?" I asked.

"What? No. Should I have?"

"No, just wondering."

I didn't finish my science homework. I hadn't even touched my pencil after that.

It was nearing the end of the school year, and there were only two weeks left. We had already had all of our major testing, and all that was left were the finals. I was studying as hard as I had ever had in my entire life, and was still flunking AP World History and Geography. I cursed college credit.

My face was still coated in a thick layer of makeup every day, with bright and wildly colored eye shadows and eye liners, but I had started caring more about school and my future. I didn't swear every other word like I had a few years before, and I had begun to dress more modestly. Dawn even took me shopping so that I could buy more flattering clothes, not just garments that revealed my cleavage and my other robust curves. I visited Drew every Saturday, and spent Friday evenings with my friends. I had gotten to know Kenny a little bit more, and we joked about how Mrs. Faaz, the Health teacher, couldn't pick up a date with her nasal-y voice and frizzy hair. He flipped his long brown hair out of his eyes like Drew.

Ash and Misty were still going strong. They were a beautiful couple. They fought frequently, and it reminded me of that romance movie that takes place in the 1940's. I relished the thought of being reunited with Drew after he graduated, so that we could hang out someplace other than that confinement of a school.

My family and I were at dinner on a Thursday night. We were eating fettucini alfredo that Mom had made—it was her mother's secret recipe.

"So," said my father. "I suspect you did well on your SATs, May."

"I believe so, Dad. I'm pretty sure I got at least eighty percent of the answers correct. Well, on the English section, at least."

"Good," he said, nodding his head. "That'll look good on college applications." He shifted his glance to the other side of the table. "And how did you do on your state testing, Max?"

"Brilliant, I'd say. I'm pretty sure I aced it," Max told us plainly and with confidence. He was in eighth grade and I was ashamed I hadn't made better friends with him throughout the years.

My father nodded with his approval, and I felt disappointed. I would never be as good as Max. As I looked over to my mother, she just smiled with glistening eyes.

Dinner ended and I cleaned up the dishes, handing Mom the used plates and utensils. I left the placemats on the table for Max to clean. He looked at me queerly, and readjusted his glasses.

"May," my mom said suddenly, serenely. I handed her another plate and she scrubbed it with less vigor than she had just moments before.

"Yes," I answered. I grabbed more dishes off of the table.

"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you." She smiled lightly, and her eyes were staring wistfully at me. Mom stopped washing the dishes, pulled off her yellow rubber gloves, and pulled me into a warm embrace. Her arms stretched around my shoulders, and she pulled me near.

I felt something I hadn't felt in years: a mother's love. It came pulsing through my veins, and I immediately felt a warm inside. My eyes raised in shock at first, and after time I melted into her arms. Words of love were pulsing out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"It's okay, honey," Mom soothed. "Everything will be all right." I closed my eyes and let everything slip away.

I don't know what happened next, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to my favorite song playing on the radio.

I readied myself for school as usual, but this time, I brought a rose. As I rode to school, the freshmen on the bus bugged me about who gave it to me. I lied to them and told them a love, but I knew I just brought it because I enjoyed roses. Throughout the day, I smelled the sweet scent of the flower many times.

"May, the flower?" Kenny asked for an explanation. He and everyone else leaned in to hear the story.

"I just felt like it," I told them plainly. They shrunk back in disappointment.

"It would have been better if Drew had given it to you," said Misty with a slight edge in her voice. "You deserve flowers of love."

I laughed. "I'll have you know," I said, "that Drew has given me many flowers of love."

Dawn scoffed. Then she smiled. "How many is many in your mind, May?" she joked. "One?"

"I believe her!" Ash cut in. His cheeks instantly blushed and he scooted farther away from me.

We all smiled at each other. I started telling them about how well I did on my SATs, while Ash just shrugged and said "I don't care about education. I'm gonna be a rock star!" Everyone laughed because we all knew that that was going to happen. He was the best guitar player in the school.

The last two days were painfully boring: we took tests all day. The first day off was Friday, and I was dying to see Drew. I parked my bike right in front of his school while the security gate opened. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to lock my bike.

I threw open the doors to the school, and scrambled to the receptionist. "May Maple," I hurried, "here to see Andrew Roselle."

The man spoke with a monotone drawl, contradicting my flurry of words spewing out at the speed of light. "I'm sorry, Miss, but classes are still in session. You'll have to wait another three hours. Testing ends at 1:00 PM."

I clenched my jaw. "Fine," I agreed.

I shifted positions every five minutes on the guest room's couch. I did stretches, and jogged in place. I looked out at the sky through the window. I tried taking a nap.

After what seemed like forever, I was finally able to see Drew. In his room, he held his head while lying on the bed.

"Hey, handsome," I said. Drew groaned. He told me how hard his finals were.

"At least it's all over," he sighed with relief.

"But don't forget graduation!" I chimed.

Drew rolled over so that his back was facing me. "Don't remind me," he moaned.

"God, you're such a burnout!" Drew stiffened.

"Well excuse me, Miss I'm Not Gonna Get Good Grades Until I'm Inspired." A cough escaped his mouth. He turned to look at me again, and we burst out laughing. His smile spread like an eagle's wings. I pounced on him, and he grabbed one of my arms and legs. We wrestled with each other until a crack appeared in the door. Almost falling off of the bed anyway, I landed on the ground with a thump as a man walked in.

"Drew, not another one," the black-haired boy joked. He wore a white beanie, and sat down on the vanity.

I wasn't amused. "Who are you?" I asked.

"My name's Brendan," he said. Then 'Brendan' smiled. "Hey, you're kind of cute. What are you doing here?"

"Visiting me," Drew interjected. I straightened myself out and Drew sat upright on the bed that we were just wrestling on.

"Oh," said Brendan. "Didn't realize that was what was happening." Brendan snickered.

"Hey!" I defended myself. "Nothing was happening!"

"I know." Brendan tossed Drew a look. I didn't understand. "Drew's told me all about you." He looked at me from the bottom up. "Well, I approve. Nobody's too good for my Andy-pants."

I looked quizzically at him. "Andy . . . pants? Are you perhaps—"

"Gay? Yes." Brendan looked at Drew and coughed. "Well, not completely." He smiled. "Let me do your makeup sometime! I'm really good at natural eyes. Your colors don't . . . compliment your eyes as nicely." Then he held out a hand. I grasped it for a handshake, but he pulled me into a hug instead. "I wouldn't give Drew up to just anybody, you know! Count yourself lucky. You get my blessing."

I laughed awkwardly. It was then that I started questioning Drew's sexuality. Even after knowing him for years and years.

After we parted from Brendan, Drew assured me he that was completely straight. We laughed about the whole ordeal.

A week later, I sat among the many parents of the seniors of Joule's Private Academy for Boys. Drew looked stunning as he accepted his diploma. His eyes glistened, and nobody would have guessed that this boy blamed himself for the death of his parents.

I spent the summer in complete bliss, forgetting everything I had learned in school the year before. Drew was working on another movie, and I got to visit the set with him every so often. I got to see him do what he loved, and that made me happier than ever. I brought Dawn, Misty, Kenny and Ash with me most of the times as well.

We were like one big happy family. As summer faded into autumn, school began again and passed with less drama than ever. Every Friday a vase of flowers arrived at my doorstep, signed "I love you. From, Drew", even when he was in some foreign country, working on some fancy movie, with some fancy actors from some foreign cities. And every premiere he went to, he brought me as his date.

Everyone at school looked up at me with envy, begging for autographs. I merely told them where he was next appearing for publicity.

Max and I became closer, and he'd help me with my math, while I taught him people skills. "You can't do it that way!" He would say. "You can't skip steps, either!" My mother and father beamed as I walked up to get my diploma from the principal, along with my four other best friends. I didn't even know that Drew had come, because he was supposed to be in Sweden for his next audition.

After everything, Drew told me he would rather be with me than in any movie. He would rather be with me than on any poster. And he told me that he wanted to marry me.

I smiled, and tears poured out of my eyes.

I feared we were moving too fast, but I found myself saying, "Yes, I'd love to!" I jumped into his arms, and he slid the diamond ring onto finger. It was the biggest diamond I'd seen, but that didn't matter. I would have said yes even if it was some cheap ring you get at the dollar store.

We had a private beach wedding two months later, with just some close friends and family. Dawn and Misty cried, and Kenny and Ash held them with all their hearts. My mother racked with sobs because her daughter had grown up. I kissed Drew with a passion I had never known when we said "I do."

On our honeymoon to Hawaii, we made love in the moonlight. I couldn't recall the last time life was this sweet.

I headed off to college with Drew by my side. He's taking a break from acting to be with me, and even now we have some classes together.

I know I'll always love Drew, because I always had. Even after years of separation.

I remembered, and so did he. The rest, as they say, is history.

ღ E n d ღ

DELETE. DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.

I'VE FIGURED IT OUT. I wither after a couple thousand words or so . . .

Yeah, I did like this. Until I reread it. I know it's not the best, but . . .

I tried to make it more believable than my last one. I failed. And yeah, I do realize that the pacing is completely screwed up, the short, choppy sentences are annoying, the tenses are way out of line, and the cursing may be a little much. And the rest is dodgy. ;-; Feel free to criticize me on that.

There's also a challenge with writing in first person. Do you think it would have been better if it had been written in third person? Oh, and also, is my writing average, fantastic, or does it just suck? Let me know! Every opinion matters. And I do admit: everything I write is practice. The more I write, the better I'll get! And it will help only if you guys give constructive criticism.

I also apologize if the characters seem out of character. xD I would rewrite it but, -cough- that would be too difficult. And I solemnly swear that my future fanfics will be free from OOCiness. (Say it Occhiness. xD)

I also had a review that stated oneshots may be the best way to learn. So thank you, Katy Bella. :) Though, you could hardly call this a oneshot . . . :3

Leave a review! Tell me what you think! Again, concrit wanted. :) Oh, and by the way: if you'd please just leave me a review before you favorite, that'd be nice. Thank you!

I hope you enjoyed, even if I didn't.

. . . I sound like bipolar. Love it/hate it . . . Peppy/depressed . . . Please blame that on writing the end author's notes before, after, and during writing.

Excuses, excuses, excuses . . . I hate myself.

Anyway.

love xx

Jayme

~ Beauty . M i s c h i e v o u s ~

PS: Thanks to my lovely beta, SandiInspiration. She did a great job. :)

Updated: None

Uploaded: 11-26-09

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