Something There

Chapter One

Class was the same as usual. We ran through a few songs, all from a variety of genres and then were given time to brush up on some theory. It wasn't as enjoyable as it should have been, considering my mind was elsewhere the whole class.

As much as I hate it, I was thinking about him.

Bryce Freaking Bradshaw.

That darn boy who plays with my hair and never seems to leave me alone. The one who had teased me about my test scores from the day I met him.

The boy who gave me my first kiss.

But he's also the boy who moved away to God-knows-where about four years ago. He left abruptly, not giving any hints to where except for the Sold! sign on his family's luxurious mansion on the water. I hadn't even the faintest clue he was moving at all until the day before, when Jasmine, my brother, and I were at his house. He didn't even talk about it, but the fact that nearly everything was packed away in boxes was a dead giveaway.

I didn't want to seem like I was attached to him or anything of the sorts, so I tried to forget all about him. The truth is, Bryce, Jasmine, my brother, and I had all been really close; we were pretty much inseparable from ages four to thirteen.

After Bryce left, my brother moved on and started hanging out with a different group of guys, and our little friend group just kind of broke apart from there.

Of course, seeing as we just spent another monotonous lunch hour together, high school eventually came along, and we all slowly became friends.

But back to reality . . .

"Lexi, I'm collecting music so if you don't mind . . ." a tall blonde girl says to me, looking at the paper in my hand.

Her name is Camila, and we've been in the same school ever since Kindergarten. We had never really talked before this year, but she already seems nice.

I quickly shake my head, snapping back to reality. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just going to go to the washroom real quick," I say, handing her the sheets she needs.

I pile all my things together on the floor, before standing up and exiting the bustling classroom.

This school is absolutely humongous. There's at least two thousand students enrolled through grades ten to twelve, and the building itself is five stories of huge classrooms and winding staircases.

I pass by a few other kids in the hallways, undoubtedly skipping class. They chat quietly amongst themselves, laughing at things on their phones, and it kind of makes me yearn to be a little more carefree, not so worried about always being in class.

God, what is up with me to day? My head seems to be stuck in the past, and I have absolutely no clue why.

I reach the washroom and quickly skip inside. It appears to be empty, luckily. I walk up to the long horizontal mirror placed above the sinks, and I just stare at myself for a moment.

There are so many things I would love to change about myself.

I've always been obsessed with the concept of perfection. Nothing truly can be 'perfect' in my eyes, at least. Yet I still try to fix everything I even slightly dislike about myself.

I'm well aware that that state of mind isn't at all healthy, but I believe I fell into the spiral after The Incident when I was fourteen. Although my self-confidence vanished into thin air, anything was better than thinking about it.

My peace is suddenly shattered when a few girls in my grade enter the bathroom, chatting and giggling with excitement. They briefly steal a glance at me, and I quickly turn on the faucet, washing my hands in hopes of not look completely insane. I'm sure they thought nothing of it, as they walk straight past the series of stalls and to the line of benches pressed against the back wall.