NOTE: We are missing chapters 7-17 of this story in our archives. If you have a copy of them, please contact us. We apologize to the author and readers for this problem.

Chapter 1

Posted on Tuesday, 30 January 2001

Remember when we ever needed each other.
The best of friends, like sister and brother.
We understood, we'd never be alone.

Those days are gone, now I want you so much.
The night is long, and I need your touch.
Don't know what to say, never meant to feel this way.
Don't want to be alone tonight.

What can I do to make you mine?
Falling so hard, so fast this time.
What did I say?
What did you do?
How did I fall in love with you?

I hear your voice, and I start to tremble,
Brings back the child that I resemble.
I can't pretend that we can still be friends.
Don't want to be alone tonight.

What can I do to make you mine?
Falling so hard, so fast this time.
What did I say?
What did you do?
How did I fall in love with you?

Oh I want to say this right, and it has to be tonight.
Just need you to know
Don't want to live this life,
Don't want to say good-bye.
With you I want to spend the rest of my life.

What can I do to make you mine?
Falling so hard, so fast this time.
What did I say?
What did you do?
How did I fall in love with you?

What can I do to make you mine?
Falling so hard, so fast this time
Everything is changed, we never knew.
How did I fall in love with you*

*"How Did I Fall in Love With You" by the Backstreet Boys

Driving down the interstate highway in the midst of the Midwest, drivers and passengers can view the tiny town of Highbury. The first thing the drivers will likely notice is how wealthy the town looks. As he approaches the outskirts of a town that can be missed in the blink of an eye, he realizes that the abnormally large houses have grown. Suddenly there is more trimming, more elaborate roofs, and bigger, better kept yards. There are many things about that little town sitting, untainted by the world around it, that those drivers will always miss. The college students on their way to and from school, those families on vacations, the gentleman on a business trip, and the puppy panting and clawing frantically at the window never see the people of Highbury that aren't wealthy, such as the Bates. And they always miss Hertfield Street. If they miss that street, they will miss that big, blue house with white shutters on every window, snuggled safely in the middle of one of the rich neighborhoods.

That house is my house. I lived in it with my father most of my life. My mother, my father's second wife, convinced him to buy it. My father always said he got to wonderful things from that marriage. "You know, Em," he'd say, as he wrapped his arm around my thin shoulder. An almost undetected speck of sadness would creep into his brown eyes. "Your mother gave me two beautiful things. You, and this old house." He always tried to smile, but his smile looked the way children do when they cry.

Although he never said anything, I know he loved my mother very much. I think that's why his third marriage didn't survive. He thought he was ready, but in actuality, he wasn't ready to love again.

Seven years after my mother's death, my dad married Anna Marie Taylor. I loved Anna like a mother. So did my father, and that was the problem. Sweet Anna Taylor was the one who filed for divorce in the middle of my freshmen year of high school. My father watched in open mouth terror. How was he going to survive without Anna's help? Who would cook? Who would clean? It was obvious to us observers that he wasn't in love with Anna.

"Ah, poor Anna," my father said one day during the summer before my junior year of high school, when I brought home word from Anna that she was getting re-married to Todd Weston. "Marriage never works. She's just setting herself up for failure."

"Daddy," I laughed, punching him in the arm, "We should be happy for Anna. She's moving on. She's always wanted a baby, remember?"

My dad shrugged, and sat down comfortably in the Lazy-boy that had become his best friend and flipped on the TV. "Children are messy."

"I'm not messy!" I laughed.

"True, Emma, but you are an above average girl. You're not like everyone else."

"Try telling that to Jeremy. He calls me a 'carbon copy,' and says I should try to be more of a nonconformist. As if I'd want to be like them," I grumbled, as I left the room, in search of something to eat. I imagined myself looking like Jane Fairfax. She was the niece of the Bates'. The Bates' went to my church, but as far as I knew, Jane had never set foot in a church.

Jane Fairfax was a skinny shrimp of a girl. Anna said she looked like an old women. Jane dyed her short, naturally blond hair a deep, fake shade of black. She wore a thin, intellectual pair of plastic frames, and usually wore wack-o clothes, like a short, leopard print skirt.

I admit it. I was a conformist. I was the hated "p" word. Popular. Preppie. Perfect. Choose one. To every other high school students that was me. Every other high school student but Jeremy, that is. Jeremy was my worst critic.

Jeremy Knightly had been my best friend since I was born, I think. His family owned the house directly behind ours, on Abby Drive. It was a big, old, brick one with the fence and the stone lions at the entrance. Jeremy was born only a few months before me. I was never quite sure how we ever became friends, since we were exact opposites in many ways, but somehow the "how" didn't matter, as long as we were friends. I wasn't sure what my life would be like without him.

Although Jeremy preached non-conformity to me, he, like myself, was the perfect example of the "p" word. He was good-looking, athletic, intelligent, funny, kind, a good Christian... all the qualities that reeked havoc on the hearts of Highbury Senior High's girls.

Jeremy had been on the cross-country team all through high school, and he always took the tough classes, like AP and Advanced. It amazed me that he could handle all his activities and still keep his perfect 4.0.

"Don't you think Jeremy is a flirt?" Holly Smith whispered to me, one day, as we sat in AP U.S. History. Holly had been my "rescue project" at the beginning of our sophomore year. She was a pretty blond girl. Since she was new to the school, and extremely shy, I took pity on her, and decided to prove to Jeremy that I was kind hearted.

I looked away from the video we were watching on World War II. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, look at him," she said in a stage whisper. Heads jerked around and stared at us. I rolled my eyes. How embarrassing.

when the spotlight moved back to the TV hanging on the wall, I whispered softly to the mortified Holly, "I think he's just being nice."

Holly nodded, then grinned as if she had forgotten the whole flirty Jeremy thing. "I have a note for you."

She dug around in the pocket of her jeans for several seconds, before pulling out a folded up sheet of notebook paper. "Here," she whispered triumphantly.

I unfolded the note, and starred at it blankly. Somehow, the words of a language I had known my whole life became foreign to me. I glanced toward the other side of the room, where Jeremy and Tanya Jenson were laughing about something. My heart skipped a beat for some reason. I looked back at the World War II footage. As I watched the Americans invade an island in the Pacific, I realized I was holding my breath. I convinced myself it was because I was afraid for the lives of those American solders. Well, it was... wasn't it?

My story starts back at the beginning of my freshman year, when I walked into Highbury High for the first time, and I saw him. Ryan Churchill. He was a sophomore. He was... just plain hot. He was on the football team, which was the main reason why I went to every football game up until the year he graduated. I had no reason to go to every game when he was gone.

Anyway, from the moment I first saw him, I had a crush on him. He had pinkish skin that made him look like he was always blushing. On any other guy it would have looked dumb, but it only made Ryan cuter. He had deep blue eyes and light brown hair. He almost always wore a white North Carolina hat backward, and, as Holly would say in admiration, he wore, "Layer upon layer of name brand clothes."

I continued to like Ryan the rest of my freshmen and sophomore year, but my story doesn't pick up until one fateful day in the middle of my junior year.

It was a day in early December. A thick layer of snow covered the ground and the trees, and frigid air came in the big double doors behind my locker. It was right after fourth hour, and I was trying to fit my Chemistry book, folder, and notebook into my narrow, over stuffed locker.

"Hey, Emmer-bear," Holly said, as she came to a stop. "How's it going."

"Right now?" I asked, looking up at her. "Not to good. I can't fit this dumb book in my dumb locker."

"Well, maybe if you'd clean that 'dumb locker' once in a while," Jeremy said. I backed up, and gave him a dirty look, giving him just enough time to slam my locker.

"What'd you do that for?" I asked, mock glaring at him.

"Seemed like the thing to do, I guess," he grinned. He reached for the dial on his locker, which was right next to mine.

"I don't think so," I said. I pushed him out of the way, and leaned my back against his locker. He laughed, and moved in front of me.

"I need to put my books away, Em," he laughed.

Just then, a group of freshmen guys walked by and accidentally pushed Holly, knocking her into Jeremy. She fell to the floor. It was like the domino effect, and Jeremy fell forward. Suddenly I found Jeremy's face centimeters away from mine. We both stopped laughing at the same time. My chest constricted and my breath was short and uneven. The centimeters between our faces became millimeters. Something was going to happen. I wanted that something to happen... whatever it was.

Holly picked herself up from the floor, and looked up just in time to see Ryan walking toward us. "Em!" she whispered frantically. I could hear my name, but it seemed so distant as the millimeters between Jeremy and me began to close. "Em!!" Holly whispered again. "Ryan's coming!"

I was suddenly jolted back to reality. I turned my eyes away from Jeremy's, and looked down the hall. Sure enough, Ryan was strutting toward us. "He's so hot," Holly whispered.

"I know," I said.

Jeremy jerked away from me at my words. "I need to get into my locker, Emma," he mumbled, careful not to make eye contact with me.

"Sure," I said. I moved away just as Ryan walked by. He turned his pink face toward me, and gave me a sloppy grin.

"He looked at you!" Holly said. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down, while I realized that convincing her to join the cheerleading squad had not been one of my wiser moves.

"I knew this was going to be a good day," I laughed, trying to shake off the feeling that I had just messed up something between Jeremy and me.

Jeremy slammed his locker and started walking away. "See you later, Jeremy," I called after him.

"Yeah. Bye," Jeremy said without turning around. I sighed. What just happened?

Chapter 2

Posted on Wednesday, 21 March 2001

*Holly*

If I had the car and I had the cash I would have driven away. I would have headed west down the interstate and bury myself somewhere in California. I would be a completely different person. Unique and unlike all the other Holly Smith's that inhabit the world. Smith, being a common last name, assures me that I'm not the only one.

I moved to Highbury in the midst of my sophomore year of high school. By the time I was a junior I was ready to rob a bank to get myself out of that snotty, self-absorbed town. Highbury is a place where everyone knows you, but know one really does. The friendships I had formed during my first year and a half were fleeting. I know that as soon as I graduated from high school and moved out of that awful place, I would be forgotten. I would be that "friend of Emma's... what was her name?" I was a cheerleader whose voice was never heard, a friend who listened but was never listened to, and a miserable failure whose unsuccessfulness was flaunted in front of what would for some time be my whole world.

Although she helped me become "popular," Emma Woodhouse was my one and only friend. She was the one person who was always there for me. She was the person who built me up and brought me down. I was weak and she acted as my crutch. Looking back on those years, I realize that perhaps things would have been better if I built up strength walking on my own rather than always leaning on Emma.

I was midway through my junior year of high school before I realized how much I hated it and how much I depended on Emma.

"Class," my chemistry teacher Mr. Allen, said. "If you'll take your seats we'll get started."

Mr. Allen was a short, balding man. A reddish-brown fringe of hair surrounded the back of his head like a horse-shoe. He stood in front of us, squinting through his thick glasses. A brightly colored button-down sweater and a pair of baggy black jeans covered his torso. his green goggles were tucked under his thick belt.

He sauntered over to the overhead projector and fumbled with a transparency. He dropped the white paper on the floor. "Careful," he said as he bent down to pick it up. I smiled at the scene. I would have laughed if I hadn't grown accustomed to Mr. Allen's oddities over the past couple months.

Mr. Allen cleared his throat and scanned the room with slanted eyes. "I have hear the official lab assignments," he said in a dramatic voice as he let his pointer finger press the on button.

"Hey, Mr. Allen," a boy in the front row said, raising his hand. Mr. Allen squinted at him. "Dude, why are we getting new lab assignments. It's not the end of the quarter yet."

"Funny you should mention that," Mr. Allen said coyly. "The original pairs weren't working out." he motioned to a flask of brimming with different chemicals. "This was found in a random locker check yesterday. From now until the end of the quarter you will be working with the person paired with you on the official lab assignment transparency."

I didn't mind. My last lab partner, Nick Elton, and I didn't like each other very well. I hoped I would get to work with somebody good this time. I was sick of settling for grunge.

"Hey, um... Holly?" a voice said behind me. I turned in my seat. "You're Holly, right?" the boy asked me cautiously.

"Yes," I said, quickly rising from my chair.

"I guess we're to be lab partners." He eyed me as if I were the plague. It was at that moment that I realized why I was getting the evil eye. He was one of those people, as Emma called them. His hair was dyed a very fake shade of black. Not only that, but he was covered from head to toe in the strangest black clothes. Over a black printed T-shirt he wore a fish-net shirt. His jeans were huge, and in a used, faded shade of his favorite color. I could swear he was wearing black eye liner around his deep, surprisingly warm, gray eyes.

I realized I was staring, so I turned momentarily toward the transparency. I spotted my name next to Robert Martain. "If you're Robert, I suppose we are," I said simply. I picked up my lab sheet, calculator, pencil and notebook and followed him to our lab area.

I saw right away that the new assignments weren't all they had been cracked up to be. Nick Elton and his new partner were across from Robert and me, at the same lab table. I sighed sickly.

"Hey-Hey, Holly," Nick grinned. "Think fast!" He picked up the bottle of distilled water and squeezed it at me.

"Stop it, Nick!" I cried, covering my face with my hands.

"Stop it, Nick!" he mimicked me. He put the bottle down and changed the subject. "Is Emma here today?"

"I don't know," I said, trying to make myself sound as annoyed as humanly possible. "I don't ever see her till lunch."

"So are you going to Winter Formal?" Nick asked nonchalantly.

I glanced up at him sharply. I hoped he wasn't planning on asking me, or something.

"I'm probably going to end up going with Katie, Amy, and Emma."

"Oh, so Emma doesn't have a date either?" he asked, rubbing his chin.

"She said she might be able to convince Jeremy to go with her."

Nick dropped the beaker he was drying on the floor and it shattered into a million pieces. "Wait to go," I mumbled. He only glared at me as he went to the front of the room to get the broom.

"How much distilled water do we need?" Robert asked.

I turned my eyes from Nick back to him. "What? Oh, water?" Robert nodded. I glanced at my lab sheet. "One hundred milliliters."

Nick came back and glared at me again. "Look what you made me do," he said. He bent over and swept up the bits of broken glass into the dust pan.

Mr. Allen strolled over to our lab table and squinted at Nick. "That'll be four dollars," he said. He held his hand out for the money as Nick rose to his feet once again and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

"I guess I didn't want to buy lunch anyway," he grumbled. "All I have is a five," Nick told Mr. Allen.

"Ah yes, Lincoln. Our sixteenth president. Remember him well," Mr. Allen said as he ran his chalk dusty fingers reminiscently through what was left of his hair. He squinted at Robert and me, forcing me to let loose my suppressed laughter. Robert looked at the table. His whole body was shaking with laughter.

Eventually Nick had paid up and Robert and I had begun working on the lab once again. As I was busy observing the chemicals change color, I felt Nick's eyes on me. Finally I looked up. "What?" I asked.

Nick frowned. "Nothing much. I was just thinking."

Did I have to drag everything out of him? "What about?" I asked.

"Winter formal. So you and Emma don't have dates?"

"Well, I don't. Emma always says she'll go with us, but she always ends up going with Jeremy."

"I don't know," Nick said, rubbing his chin. "Things might be a little different this year."

"How's that?" I asked. I was suddenly curious for Emma's sake.

"Well..." I couldn't help but notice the tiny smirk on his face. "He's been getting kind of cozy with Jane Fairfax."

Had I been holding one, I would have dropped a beaker. "You're joking!"

Nick shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"But she's a... a..." I searched for words. How could I say it nicely? She always looked like she was ready to work a corner.

"I know. I thought the same thing, but you should see the way they flirt!"

Seeing Jeremy flirt with Jane Fairfax, of all people, would make anyone sick.

What would Emma say when she heard this?

Chapter 3

Posted on Wednesday, 21 March 2001

*Emma*

"Did you get invited to Amy Cole's Christmas Party?" Holly asked me as we walked down the hall toward my locker. It was just after fourth hour. Holly and I usually met between her Chemistry class and my Social Problems class and went to each other's lockers to get rid of our books.

"Would I go if I did?" I asked, with a shrug of my shoulders.

"I got invited," Holly asked, ignoring the sarcasm in my last question.

"Are you going?" I asked incredulously.

"I think so. Her parents aren't going to be home and everyone is going to be there."

"Ooh," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'll get to watch people get drunk." Some people had a strange definition of fun. I loved being invited, but I hated going to parties.

Holly ignored me. "Jessica told me she overheard Kelly and Dawn talking. Jessica said Dawn said her brother told her Ryan Churchill was going."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Are you serious?" I asked. Holly stopped a few paces ahead of me and turned to face me.

"Yeah. That's what Jessica heard anyway."

Amy Cole was a nice girl, but she wasn't all that popular. Although over the past two years she had gained a little ground, she would still be the short, shy girl with mousy brown hair and a terrible wardrobe. Normally I would rather die than set a foot in her house for a party or otherwise, but even the rumor of Ryan's expected presence made mine a requirement. I had been to a lot of parties in the past few years, but I had yet to find Ryan at one. We traveled in different circles.

"I'm going to have to talk to Amy more," I said simply. "I have to be invited to her party."

Holly grinned. "I knew you'd say that."

Suddenly my thoughts of Ryan were interrupted by a heavy arm suddenly resting on my shoulder. "Hey, Em... Holly." It was Nick Elton.

Nick and I had gone out for a week back when I was a freshman and he was a Sophomore. We both realized we weren't right for each other, or so I thought. Lately he's been coming on strong again.

"Hey, Nick," I said. I pasted on a smile that only Jeremy could see through. "How's it going?" I wished he would remove his arm from my shoulder. He never seemed to respect my personal space. That was one of his most annoying habits. I noticed, however, that he had his arm around Holly's shoulder too. Maybe he didn't *like* me. Maybe he didn't respect anyone's personal space.

Nick grinned. "It was good until last hour when Holly, here, made drop a beaker."

"She made you do that?" I asked.

"Yeah," Nick said, putting on a wounded look.

"And how did she do this?"

"She told me that neither of you had a date to Winter Formal," Nick said. I noted that he was looking more at Holly than at me.

"Winter Formal isn't for another two months," I pointed out. "I don't need to start thinking about it yet." I shrugged his arm off my shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye I was surprised to see his arm was still around Holly.

"Yeah, but you have to make so many plans, Emma," Nick said resolutely. "Hair, nails, buying a dress..."

"You're right, Nick. I guess you make a better girl than I do," I laughed. I pulled Holly out of Nick's grasp. When I turned around, he was standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway watching us. Or was he just watching one of us?

Chapter 4

Posted on Wednesday, 21 March 2001

*Holly*

From the moment I entered my Chemistry classroom that Thursday until the moment I left I felt like someone was watching me. It's an strange feeling. The eyes of one of my fellow classmates, whoever it was, were boring into the back of my head, yet I had no idea who it was. Perhaps, I thought, it was just me being paranoid.

The feeling grew much stronger when we separated into our lab groups. I almost wondered if it was Nick. I glanced up from the Bunsen burner I was attempting to light just in time to convince me it wasn't Nick. He was hard at work putting distilled water into three test tubes while watching his lab partner, August Hawkins, as she got the chemicals. A self satisfied smirk covered his face.

I rolled my eyes and silently prayed that I would someday find a guy who was interested in the whole me, not just the physical me. I figured I would have to.

Robert cleared his throat. I tore my eyes away from Nick and August and looked up at him expectantly.

"Um, do you want me to get the chemicals?"

"Oh, sure," I nodded and gave him an appreciative smile. I was surprised to see his ears turn bright red, but chose to ignore it. For the time being, anyway. "I'll get the water," I added as he hurried away to the 'hood.'

We finished our lab without the slightest disruption from Nick, and soon the bell rang. We all rushed out of the classroom into the slow moving, thick traffic of the main upstairs hallway.

"Holly!" I heard from somewhere behind me. I craned my neck in order to see who it was. "Holly! Wait up for me!" It was then that I saw Robert running toward me, shoving people out of his way, trying desperately to catch up with me. I pulled over to the side of the hall and stopped to wait for him.

When he was within five feet of me I noticed something I had failed to notice earlier; his clothes. For the first time in his life, I guessed, he was dressed normal. He wore a navy blue sweater with two gray stripes across the middle and a pair of blue jean. I could swear Ryan Churchill had that same exact sweater.

"Did I forget something?" I asked. I attempted to ignore how cute he looked dressed half-way normal.

"Um, no," Robert said, running his hand through his fake-ish black hair (it was growing on me). "I mean, I don't think you did. I can go check if you want."

"No, no," I said, trying to laugh. "I'm I have everything. I just thought... well, never mind. What did you want?"

The traffic began to thin so Robert and I began walking slowly down the hall toward the place where Emma and I always met before lunch.

"I was just, um, you know, wondering... I mean I-I wanted to know if... I mean I wanted to ask you if maybe, I mean if you're not busy tomorrow night--"

"I kind of am," I interrupted him, as the thought of Amy Cole's party leapt into my mind. "Why do you ask?"

"I guess it doesn't matter then..." his voice trailed off and he looked as if he had just lost his best friend.

"Yes it does," I persisted.

"Well," he fidgeted with his books for a moment, before blurting his answer out. "I just thought maybe we could hang out... like go to a movie or something."

I felt myself blushing. "You mean like a date?" I asked dumbly.

"Yeah."

"Okay." My heart thumped against my chest. "Pick me up at seven."

"I thought you had plans," Robert said, confusedly.

"I'll change them," I said quickly. "It wasn't anything important, anyway."

Robert was grinning ear-to-ear. "Okay," he said.

At the next fork in the hallway, Robert and I went our separate ways, but I knew we were both still smiling. For the first time in what felt like years I was truly happy.

...it was too bad Emma was going to murder me when she found out.

Chapter 5

Posted on Wednesday, 21 March 2001

*Emma*

By my lunch hour it was snowing hard outside. Naturally I was thrilled. Christmas was less than a week away and I was dreaming of a white Christmas. Of course, we'd never had anything other than a white Christmas, anyway so it didn't matter how much I dreamed.

After lunch I stood alone at my locker, battling to get my books out of my locker. With a mighty pull I finally got my psychology book out and onto the floor. I ripped half the paper-bag cover off, but I was still impressed with myself for not knocking my pens and pencils onto the floor. That was a first.

"Hey, Emma." I smiled at Jack Weston, Anne's stepson, as he walked by. I still spent a lot of time with Anne, so Jack and I had become friends.

After I returned to collecting my books, long, cool, snow-filled breeze suddenly rushed into the school. My bare arms broke out into goosebumps. After living in the cold for 17 years, one would think I would know better than to wear a T-shirt to school in the dead of winter. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, but I still hadn't learned.

"It's really coming down out there," Jeremy said, walking up behind me.

"Oh, Hey, Jeremy. Yeah, I see that."

Jeremy and I hadn't talked since the "incident," a week earlier, when we were fighting over locker space. I was shocked that he was talking to me so soon. I swore I wouldn't mess it up this time. I didn't think I could stand being ignored and avoided for a second week in a row.

"And you're driving home this afternoon?" he asked. He looked down at me archly.

I turned away so I wouldn't have to answer to his eyes. "I usually do," I said simply.

"Don't you think that's a little dangerous, Em?" he asked, skeptically.

I shrugged. "I'm a good driver."

"Yeah, but you don't control the guy next to you, Emma. Half the kids in the parking lot don't deserve a license. Winter weather only magnifies that. Why don't you take the bus home tonight just to be safe. You can drive it home after school tomorrow."

"No way!" I exclaimed. "I'm not riding the bus as long as I have a car. Don't worry about me, Jeremy. I'll be okay."

"If you total your car you'll have to take the bus every day after this," Jeremy pointed out.

I had to admit Jeremy was right, but I wasn't ready to give in. "Then I'll borrow one of my dad's other cars."

"Emma," Jeremy said, putting a hand gently on my shoulder, "I-I care about you and I don't want you to get hurt."

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and slammed my locker. "Just let me do things my way, Jeremy. If I get killed it's my own lousy fault."

"Fine. Have it your way."

Jeremy and I stalked off in opposite directions.

So much for making up with Jeremy.

Chapter 6

Posted on Wednesday, 21 March 2001

*Holly*

I sat in Algebra, my last class of the day, tuning out Mr. Johnson's droning voice and tapping my pencil on my desk to the beat of as song that was stuck in my head.

Algebra was my least favorite class. Having it last, the hour that dragged on for a million years anyway, made things worse. On the other hand, having an awful class last made the final bell ten times sweeter than it would be if I had, say Professional Cooking. I loved cooking.

Mr. Johnson's watch alarm went off, alerting us that there were only three minutes left to the hour. I sat up straight in my desk, in a mad attempt to soak up as much knowledge as possible so I could do my assignment that night. Instead, I found my mind drifting back to the subject that had been plaguing me since Robert asked me out; Robert.

I wondered what I was going to tell Emma... or even if I was going to tell Emma. Ever since I met Emma I had told her all my deepest, darkest secrets. She was the only person who knew my dad had left my mom and me when I was three. She was the only person who knew about my secret passion for beanie babies and my love for Dr. Pepper chap stick. She knew about my cravings for Rocky Road ice cream. She knew I still slept with my stuffed cat "Exercise Dog." She was the only person who knew my mom's second husband beat us. She was the only person who knew we moved to Highbury to escape that man. She knew everything about my life... but how was I going to tell her this? How was I going to tell her I had agreed to go out with a guy from a group that disgusted her?

I slumped back in my seat and gave up on obtaining any extra knowledge from Mr. Johnson.

"Well, there's only a minute or so left, so I'll give you the assignment now," Mr. Johnson said in his monotone voice. "Section 5.4, number 2 through 22. Just do the evens."

I scribbled the numbers in my planner, and slammed it shut just in time for the bell.

"I'll see you all tomorrow. Same time, same place," Mr. Johnson called after us. I hurried out of the classroom, thrilled to get away from Mr. Johnson.

"Hey," Robert said, catching up with me.

I grinned and felt my cheeks blush a little. "Hey, Robert."

"I thought I'd walk you to your locker. I hope you don't mind," he said nervously.

I shook my head. "I don't mind at all." I glanced at his Ryan-like outfit. "I like your sweater," I said. "It looks good on you."

"Oh, this?" He asked, trying to sound casual. "Thanks." He looked pleased with himself, still.

As we walked down the hall he slipped his hand nonchalantly through mine. It felt comfortable, like our hands were made to fit together like that. We walked down the hall in silence, paying no attention to what was going on around us, just enjoying being close together. I decided I wouldn't mind living the rest of my life like that.

Suddenly I was torn away from my fantasy, and pulled back into the real world. Nick Elton was walking slowly toward us. His eyes were focused right between Robert and me, right on our interlocking hands.

NOTE: We are missing chapters 7-17 of this story in our archives. If you have a copy of them, please contact us. We apologize to the author and readers for this problem.

Continued in the next section.