We met at the lockers during our last year of high school. We had never spoken before even though we had attended Millcreek High during our entire high school career. I knew him before then; he was the ever-so-popular basketball jock, ogled by all the girls. No, I wasn’t one of those introversive, lonely girls that didn’t have any friends. I wasn’t popular either, but I’d like to think I fit somewhere in the middle.

His locker was below mine which caused some problems as I was shorter than he was. Darn basketball players. We never exchanged words for the first few weeks, even though we met every day at the lockers and we would have to struggle through the throng of people near our lockers to get to ours and even then we had to silently navigate ourselves so that we didn’t hurt each other while trying to get our books.

I don’t know when it was. I wouldn’t be able to tell you the day, time, month, and probably wouldn’t be able to tell you the year if it wasn’t my senior year. I was always really bad with remembering things.

I do remember that I was late for science class because I had decided to go to the bathroom. Usually, I don’t use school bathrooms. I don’t like school bathrooms; they smell weird (then again, what bathroom doesn’t?), they’re unbelievably dirty, the sinks are usually broken, and girls always leave their pads in the stalls because they’re too embarrassed to take them out and stick them in the trashcan next to the cracked sink. At least, they did at Millcreek.

Anyway, I was ducking under people’s arms, practically running through the hallways, trying to make it to my locker. I’m a small person so there was no way I was going to carry my oversized English book and three-inch notebook along with my voluminous science book around just to save time.

I should’ve expected him to be there; I always reached my locker before him. But, I didn’t expect him to be there. Also, I didn’t see him because I was trying to juggle by book and binder while sprinting down the hallway.

For the record, this is not a good idea. For example, you could trip over your pants which are too long because you refuse to buy jeans that fit properly because baggy jeans feel better. And then, you could drop everything you’re holding trying to break your fall. To top it off, your binder could go flying and knock out the guy who happens to have the locker below yours and hit him in the head.

Can you believe all of this happened just because I decided to pee after third period? Why couldn’t I hold it for another two hours?

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!”

That was all that came out of my mouth as I abandoned my belongings and other people passed by two of us, not even offering to help. A very friendly community our school has.

Chase Jamison was trying to get off the floor, holding his eye and groaning, oblivious to me asking “Are you okay?” over and over.

“You need to get to the nurse’s office,” I said, attempting to drag him up and hardly succeeding.

“I think I’m fine,” he said, resisting my efforts and removing his hand from his eye.

I blanched as soon as I got a good look at his face. It wasn’t his eye exactly, but my binder had cut him pretty well right above his left eye and it was starting to bleed.

“Nurse’s office,” I said sternly, turning my face away. I really didn’t like seeing the sight of blood. “Now; c’mon, I’ll take you.”

“You’ll be late for class,” Chase pointed out as the bell rang and he heaved himself up. “Besides, I’m not hurt that badly; I can walk there myself.”

I grabbed his arm and started to pull him with me, ignoring every word coming out of his mouth.

“You’re not listening to me,” said Chase, his voice slightly annoyed, yanking his arm out of my grip. “I told you I’m fine.”

I glared at him and he actually flinched a little. “People that are fine do not have blood leaking out of their foreheads. You will go to the nurse’s office and you will let me take you there. Understand?”

Meekly, Chase nodded and followed me to the nurse’s office.

“I told you I was fine.”

Chase and I were walking back from the nurse’s office. Chase now had a bandage on his head and I was holding the notes excusing us from class. I glanced sideways at him; I did not like his cocky attitude.

“I was only being careful,” I explained, determined not to be put down. “It was my fault that you were hurt after all. I had to take you to the nurse’s.” Or risk having hundreds of girls chasing after me for injuring one of the basketball players.

“You didn’t have to be so forceful.”

“I wouldn’t have been if you weren’t so stubborn,” I retorted.

I swear I heard him mutter “Crazy girl,” but when I looked at him he only turned his head in the other direction as if he was admiring the poster asking more people to join the debate team.

I decided not to bait him anymore and walked in front of him. I hat to admit it, but it’s uncomfortable for someone of my height to walk next to tall people. You know that feeling you get when you stand next to a really tall building? Yeah, that’s kinda how I feel when I stand next to someone Chase’s height.

Everything that I was carrying when I tripped in the hallway was now strewn across it in a whirlwind of papers and books. I had been so freaked out about hitting Chase that I had totally forgotten about them.

“This will take me forever to reorganize,” I mumbled, stooping on the ground to pick up the miscellaneous papers.

I heard Chase’s footsteps behind me and expected to see him walk by, totally unconcerned about my things, go to his locker, and walk away again.

I kept my head down, not wanting to see a smug look on his face as he passed me. I just knew he would be laughing at me if I looked at him, probably thinking what an idiot I am for leaving my stuff in the hallway like this.

“Hey, pay attention.”

I looked up only to knock my head against the books hovering above.

Blinking the stars out of my eyes, I glared at Chase who was holding the books. Grudgingly, I accepted them and muttered a thank you.

“Sorry, what was that?”

He walked lazily over to his locker, glancing back at me as I grinded my teeth.

“I didn’t quite hear you.” He was closing his locker, books under his arm.

“I said thank you,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh,” he said as if surprised. “You’re welcome Anne.”

Anne? Did he just call me Anne?

I could’ve been more mature about the situation. I could’ve just corrected him and let him walk away. But honestly, I couldn’t do that. Pride wouldn’t let me.

As soon as he walked by me, his head held high in triumph, probably thinking he got the best of me, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. A satisfying thud resounded across the hall as I lorded over his collapsed frame.

“Get it straight,” I said coldly, walking past him as he rolled over to face me, a dazed look on his face. “My name’s Jill.”