My life works in a pattern. Every day I wake up in my small room in my lumpy bed still warm from my body heat, I crawl onto my floor scrounging desperately for something to wear before 7:30 am. When I’m lucky enough to find something fresh from the wash, I’m able to eat my breakfast of some type of cereal, read the newspaper, listen to the drone of the news, maybe let the dog in if he isn’t sleeping, go upstairs and begin getting ready for school.

This part moves in the same damn pattern everyday as well. Brush hair, brush teeth, wash face do make up, put on any jewelry for the day. Next I go down the stairs, maybe play the piano or watch television, then put on my coat, backpack and grab my lunch kit that’s always hanging from the doorknob and head for school. Go to school. Come back. Attempt to hide from my mother, eat something, do homework, eat dinner, do homework, watch television, go to bed.

And there you have it, my life summed up in two paragraphs. It’s been like this forever, my order never faltering, for if it does, God only knows what havoc will creep out upon my mother’s “oh so perfect life.” What I consider this daily pattern to be is the pattern of death. Its slowly reoccurring until one day it will just stop because God became to bored with it to continue and moves onto another pattern.

He caught my eye the first moment I stepped in the door. His hair was long, brown, he wore all black; he laughed and just looked so natural in his surroundings and around people. He was definitely out of my league, but I wanted him. I think I knew even then and there that I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted a guy before. I’m quite sure that I’m the only remotely good looking girl who hasn’t had her first kiss in all of grade eight, but when I saw him, when our eyes met for that brief moment and that small spark appeared I knew. This was him… this was the guy who I’d dreamed of, that one that was faceless, covered in the shadow of the dark. This was him. My first and only love.

School sucks, it’s always sucked and shall always suck. That’s where it was. I’d walked through the door into Ms. Patterson’s room. It was the art room so it was quite big and surprisingly really dull. The walls were a boring white and peach and the only artwork hanging up was her own. She was a proud arrogant bitch, no doubt about that. She pretended to love God, having that theory in her mind that she was right about everything, including God. She was a liar, and always would be.

That was a talent I had, it was strange, but it was there. I’m very good at reading people and their personalities. I can categorize them as what before they’ve said hello. What was creepier was that I was always right. I hadn’t been wrong yet. Then he said hi to me, spoke to ME! That was the first time I couldn’t read someone. I couldn’t read him… he was complicated, deep, secretive yet open. Complexity.

“Hey, I’m-

HOLY SHIT

“Trevor.”

Oh God! Please! Let me have him! Let him want me!

“Amelia.”

He walked away.

Oh God! Oh God! My thoughts ran wild, but I knew no one could tell. I was good at hiding. Hiding anything, I was an actress. I was good at lying too. I could make up a lie three seconds flat and have evidence to support it, another three seconds flat. No hesitations, no nothing. Just straight out fau truth.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Since I first saw him, school just died. It was in the way, but it was my only chance to see him. He was popular. I was in between. Not a nerd, not a great popular person either. I always felt like the leader when in a group except around him and his friends.

The day dragged on, then last period and my first gift from God came. Social. The teacher was a bitch, a cow, a pig, a harsh-ravenous shark ready to attack. She made my life ten times better first three minutes of class. We sat right next to each other.

OH GOD!

“Hey.”

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!

“Hey.”

Silence.

Shit.

That night, I lay in bed for hours thinking about him, fantasizing, dreaming, worrying, pretending. Praying.

Dear God,

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please let me have him! I want him so much, more than anything in the world! I’ll do anything! I’ll stop sinning! Whatever I have to do to please have him! Please let him like me! Please!

Oh, and thanks for everything I’ve already got. I know I sound selfish, but he’s different. You made him my soul mate. He’s mine. No one can take him from me… not if they don’t want to d- I mean… Oh God PLEASE!

I did this every night for a month. We ended up talking more during the day, Trevor and me. Time stood still in his presence. He was funny, good at drama, giving me a run for my money for the drama award this year. He stood out in a crowd. He kicked his shoe into a light fixture. He made me laugh. He made me ache from the inside out. He made me want him more than I should ever want a man.

He was a boy at heart. We shared the same sense of humor, both immature about everything. Laughing when the teacher talked about touching us. Laughing when we watched the “Lorax” (gay movie) in social and they sung a song about grass. He liked rock, I loved rock, his favorite colour was black, mine was blue. Then he touched me… I nearly frigging died.

My hair, which reached below my hips, he played with it. He seemed fascinated with it, saying things like, “It’s so long.” I almost shook, feeling so nervous. I smiled. We would sit together and tell jokes, his sometimes being racist even though he wasn’t one.

In religion with Ms. Patterson, God gave me my second gift. He sat Trevor at my table. The only downfall was that she was there. She being that popular hag, that small petite blonde prep, Lila. I hated her, but I wanted to impress her nonetheless. It was a complicated thing. She was the type of person who pretended to know everything, hate being wrong, had to be the center of attention, didn’t practice what she preached, gossiped, lied, cheated, changed her marks, stole soul mates.

I thought he liked her more, I thought he wanted to be with her. Then she was sick for a day, God’s third gift, and he said he was glad she wasn’t there. I was ecstatic. A few weeks later after preying to God in the night, in the dark, feeling the light, God heard me once more; I knew he was watching me now, helping me along. We got a new seating plan in religion. I sat right beside Trevor, Leighton gone from our table, banished from the island in the words of Trevor.

My best friend, Kacy, was planning a Halloween party. At a sleepover with her, Alanna and me she told me she was inviting Trevor and was planning a room for making out. Hope I learned how before this party, if he even came.

My life moved in a pattern, but slowly, my pattern is growing unique, straying from the path. Finally, life might be worth living.