I liked her since she first stepped foot inside of our class. She was a new pupil, and a year younger than us. Why, I wondered, was she in our class? Our headmaster didn't explain it to us; he didn't even bother to introduce her properly, and it seemed as if he'd succeeded in nothing but making her more nervous.

'This is Charlotte. Charlotte, would you like to introduce yourself to your new classmates?'

She was no angel in looks; her hair wild, brown and curly. Blue eyes sparkled with life, and a small nose, small lips. Her body was covered well with clothing, and her skin was very pale and ghostly.

The girls face reddened, but he had already turned on his heels, and walked away. Our teacher, Miss Fiddle, walked up to her and gave her a kind smile.

'Hello, Charlotte, would you like to introduce yourself then?'

She swallowed, but nodded, her face reddening further. And then, she spoke. The words sprung at me, as beautiful-a sound as that of a choir of angels. I'd liked her before she'd even started speaking, but as she spoke, my interest in her grew deeper; she seemed an interesting, intellectual person. She fixed her glasses timidly as they slid askew.

'Um. Hi, I'm Charlotte Elliot. I'm 12 years old, but Mr. Reeney moved me up a year. I. I. Mo... Most people think I'm. strange.'

The girl finished there feebly, and looked pleadingly at Miss Fiddle who nodded to a seat, smiling. The girl hurried over, and pulled some books out of her bag, and got ready to begin the lesson on Macbeth.

* * * * *

'Charlotte. Hi.' My face reddened slightly as I smiled at the new student, and I saw her looking up at me fearfully. I watched her take in my appearance, waiting for her to take in the same conclusion about me as the others; brown hair down to the nape of my neck, torn jeans, green eyes, dishevelled top. But her eyes didn't seem to make her look as disgusted about me as the others, and she smiled and gestured for me to sit down, and I did so. 'I'm Ben. In your class.'

I'm not usually nervous, and it quite surprised me. My stomach was like jelly and I don't think I'd ever felt so stupid. She smiled again, and my fears melted, along with my heart. I really did like her, but I hoped she couldn't tell - this was the first day I'd knew her, what on earth would she think? Hopefully nothing bad, I decided.

'Hi Ben,' she replied, then said, quite drearily 'So, they all get the picture I'm a nerd? A freak, right?' Her eyes looked troubled, and I considered what to reply. I decided that honesty was the best way.

'Yeah,' I said simply. 'Don't see why you should care though; look at me. They all think I'm off another planet,' I laughed, and I could see this seemed to strangely comfort her. 'It doesn't really matter what they think; they seem pretty idiotic at judging characters, and I've had two years to consider it.'

She looked quite surprised. 'I didn't think you'd be hassled too. You. you. you seem quite nice.' Her face flushed the colour of beetroot, and so did mine, but with a great pleasure welling up inside me.

* * * * *

Six months later.

She was crying. We were in her bedroom, the room seeming to swallow us both up. My arms were around her, and her head fell against my chest as she wept. 'It's not fair. They're always after me. all the time. it's not fair.' My hand stroked her silky hair as the tears fell down her soft cheeks, trickled from her eyelashes onto my hand, dropped softly into my lap.

A crumpled note lay upon her bed, I turned my head slowly from her crying figure, and re-read the words, the ink smudged from tears having fallen on it.

Hey Freak-Girl, I know ALL about you. Every single little thing. Don't try to hide it. I'll tell. You don't know who I am; you can't snitch. And just try and deny it. You can't hide it. I'll know. They'll just laugh at you more. Haha. I know about you. Don't believe me?

I know you're Wiccan. I know your 'boyfriend'. I know what you do. I know where you live.

I'll hit you. I'll get you. Why? Because I know what you do, and I know who you'll blame when they find out.

Me.

Sucker!

It had been slipped in her locker sometime during break. The girl had started crying then, and hadn't stopped all day. I hugged her, and she clung to me like a limpet. I was there for her. I told her so, and she told me she knew. Now I came to inspect the note, I felt sadness for her sweep over me. 'I'm sorry.' Was all I could say, quietly.

My arms wrapped around her, protectively. She smiled at me weakly, wiping her eyes free of tears with her hands. I ignored the way her eyes had become red and blotchy, the happiness and life now shone in them. A voice flew upstairs from downstairs, 'Ben! Your father's outside!'

I turned to her, watched her eyes fill with anguish. I hugged her again, and we brought our lips together in a kiss, and I ruffled her hair. As I released her, she smiled. 'Bye.' Her reaction to the words was immediate; I giant hug.

'Bye. I'll miss you.' I wondered why she'd miss me, for she'd see me in school the next day, but I shook it off, grabbed my school satchel from her bedroom floor, and joined my father at the front door. I said goodbye to her parents, greeted my dad and we drove off, back home.

* * * * *

The next day as I walked into school, she wasn't there. All the usual crowd, but not her. Everyone seemed quite surprised, other than Johnny. I glared at him as he laughed at no reply at her name, and my eyes bore into the desk, flames burning in them. They laughed at me too, at my tears. She was only off for one day, yet already my world was breaking apart.

* * * * *

I ran to her home straight after school. I had even been granted a key, as I was there half the time anyway, and the whole family trusted me. I let myself in and dumped my satchel at the door. I ran upstairs, to her room. The carpet in the hall was covered with a mass of sticky red liquid, trailing into her room from the bathroom, or the bathroom from her room. Panic. Panic. Panic.

'Charlotte! CHARLOTTE?!'

I turned the handle of the door, but I heard the click telling me it was locked that only seemed to happen to the doors in her house.

'Charlotte!'

I kicked at it viciously, trying to knock it down, to get in, to get her, my best friend. my entire life. A squeak of hinges came from downstairs, and Mr. Elliot breezed in. He stopped when he heard me kicking the door, and recognized my filthy, straggly mop of hair. I didn't know at the time, until he yelled. 'Ben! BEN! What the hell is going on?' At that point I spun around, and our eyes met, our anxiety showing. 'Ben.?' I stood, shaking, then let out a small squeak. I couldn't speak anything other than one word.

'Help. Help. help.'

I glanced once more at the floor, and could take it no longer. I let out a strangled sort of cry, ran down the stairs two at a time, grabbing my satchel, running out of the house, slamming the door, that haunting word 'help' echoing in my head, the yelling of 'BEN!' coming at me from the house. He couldn't find out. he couldn't. She could be really hurt.

I fell to my knees, them scraping on the gravel and beginning to bleed, but I didn't notice. I knelt there, my head in my hands, weeping, weeping, weeping. She could be gone. Tears mixed with the blood in my knee, the pain finally coming to me, my heart breaking, and then.

Blackness.