A/N: This is an INCREDIBLY SHORT piece of work that I think most people would like. Please enjoy, it won't take up more than ten minutes of your time. If you want something short and sweet, here it is. If you'd like me to extend this, please alert me. If you hate it, let me know as well.

After a perilous trek through the snow, chill, and dark, I finally made it to my bus stop, sans injury. Yet, instead of the duly earned fanfare, I was greeted with the statement, “Your wretched dog keeps barking.”

Just like that. I had taken forty-two steps out my front door and was already dealing with impending frostbite and human confrontation. After dropping my homework-laden backpack and hearing a satisfying crack in the ice, I crossed my arms over my marshmallow coat and glared in his general direction. It was way too early in the morning to be dealing with Clark Mallory of the cerulean eyes. Good thing the sun was not up because in the dark, I was safe from his arcane eyes. Most teenaged boys were simple to read; the fact that I could not understand Clark was disconcerting.

“Did you hear me, June Bug?” I saw a finger poke my shoulder, but my mind didn’t register it. Nor did my skin, for that matter. “Your dog keeps howling. I go to sleep at 1:45 every morning because I hear it howling. Do you realize that sleep is essential in a growing boy? Are you sadistically depriving me of energy? You won’t believe how much coffee is needed to keep my system going…”

Clark was being himself again. It was as though he was placed on this earth to bother the daylights out of me. I shuffled more to the left. When was that yellow box-on-wheels coming? I interrupted his speech when he accused me again of owning the offensive dog. “In case you didn’t know, Clark, I don’t have a pet. So it’s not my dog you’re hearing. That supposedly infernal dog belongs to my neighbor, Mrs. Hensch.”

I felt indignant on Mrs. Hensch’s behalf. Really, Pickles was a nice dog; she was energetic and adorable with bright I-implore-you-to-hold-me brown eyes. She was a good dog…never did her deed on our lawn…I waited for an inevitable retort from Clark, yet ten seconds or so passed and he made no comment. I stopped looking towards the end of the street and finally drew my eyes to Clark’s face. It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but when I finally did, I instantly regretted revealing so much. Clark smiled cheekily.

“Your naiveté is charming, June Bug.” Maybe because it was 6:40 in the morning, I could only stare at him blankly. I couldn’t even retort, “My name is not June Bug.” His smile, if it was possible, grew even wider as I mumbled something incoherent. I don’t even know what I said.

“Thanks, June Bug, now I know where you live.”

Suddenly it registered in my comatose mind. He knew I didn’t have a dog. He just wanted to know which house was mine. That was one thing I hated about Clark. He was too smart for his own good. I felt my fingers clench within my mittens and it was only through the divine province of God that Clark Mallory made it onto that bus.

Disgruntled, I watched Clark make his way to his seat. He blushed and shrugged each time a classmate complimented his poster. His project really was something to behold, but Clark, despite his confidence, also possessed modesty, a trait uncommon in high school boys. Against my better judgment, I leaned over the aisle. His back was facing me so he could not see what I was doing. I hesitated, but with resolution, I tapped his desk with my nail-bitten fingers. He was situating himself, tossing his poster carelessly to the floor.

It was the best presentation by far. I had to compliment him. “Clark, nice job.”

Clark’s head whirled around to the sound of my voice. For the first time, I saw true emotions within his eyes. He actually beamed. Clark Mallory, the Impassive. Just like a child, he earnestly inquired, “Really? You think so?”

I paused, thought about my response, and then nodded. “Yeah. You did fabulously.”

He gave me a beatific smile. “Thanks, June Bug, you don’t know how much that means to me.”

I prayed it would be the last of the snow. However, heaps of it fell from the sky like asbestos. I slogged through it all, muttering the entire way home.

“You don’t look like summer, June Bug,” someone called from the distance. I looked over my shoulder. I had a sudden mental image of Clark residing in an igloo, completely at home with the snow.

“It’s March, there shouldn’t be snow after St. Patrick’s Day. And my name is June; I like the sun.”

“Who said there isn’t sun?” he asked and shielded his eyes against the bright white. He had a point. I continued through the snow, wondering why some people didn’t shovel their sidewalks. I let out a muffled grunt when I stepped through an incredibly deep drift.

“CLARK! JUNE!” We both turned towards the voice. I felt something cold and hard pelt me in the face. Upon wiping the snow from my eyes, I saw our classmate Jeremy Carroll laughing. Clark dropped his backpack, gathered up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball and deftly pitched it at Jeremy.

He didn’t bother seeing if it hit his target; the audible ouch was enough. Instead, Clark turned towards me, concerned. “Are you all right?” I felt my cheeks sting, not sure if it was the snowball's fault or my own.

“Yeah...just dandy.” He looked intently at me a few moments longer and without delay, ran towards Jeremy. My vision focused and I saw that most of the neighborhood was outside. I saw young Valia Carroll outside as well, desperately trying to make a snowball. As I walked towards her, I realized that she had been at the same snowball for minutes. Frustrated, she began to cry. I started to walk towards her, but Clark got to Valia first.

“What’s wrong, Val?” he asked good-naturedly and crouched down to her height. I stopped walking and began to watch.

Defeated, Valia sank into the snow and sniffled. “I’ve been making this snowball for hours but I can’t. I want to throw one at Jeremy, but I’m just a girl.” The tears continued to stream down her reddened face.

“Being a girl has nothing to do with it! Valia, it’s all right, it took me years to learn how to make a snowball.” He smiled at her and continued in the same soothing voice, “It’s so easy, once I teach you, you’ll be a pro and you’ll be wishing winter lasted forever. In fact, you might even join the Inuit.” Clark bent down and grabbed a handful of snow. “Here, Val, just do this.”

Seconds later, a delighted Valia stood up and threw her first snowball at her brother. It hit him on the back and she giggled hysterically.

“Clark, you are the best ever!” Clark smiled and shrugged, rising to his feet. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Distracted, I didn’t notice my pencil hit the floor. When I realized my pencil wasn’t on my desk, I reached down to pick it up and noticed a photo by it. I furrowed my eyebrows and picked up the wrinkled picture. Depicted was a fluffy tabby cat being held affectionately by a young looking -

“Oh, did I drop that? It must have fallen out of my wallet,” Clark murmured sheepishly and tried to take the picture back. I held it out of reach, never taking my eyes off the youth's face.

“Is this you?” I asked.

He blinked and muttered, “Yeah, seven years ago.”

“It’s a cute cat-what’s its name?”

“Lovecraft.”

It was my turn to blink. “I beg your pardon?”

He looked at me oddly. “Lovecraft. But he never responded to that, so we called him ‘Darcy’. Lovecraft seems to like that more.”

I felt my face split into a grin. “Interesting.” I suddenly noticed how empty the classroom was and I gathered my things. “It was nice to meet Mr. Darcy,” I called over my shoulder.

“June Bug, you forgot about your pencil.”

It was first hour while I was attempting to doze off on my pencil case when someone plopped themselves beside me. I didn’t mind, until they started poking me. I rolled my head to one side and saw Clark’s face. I inwardly groaned.

“Hey, June Bug.”

This time I was more awake. I snapped, “It’s June.”

He smiled at me crookedly at looked pointedly at the date scrawled on the white board. “June Eleventh?”

I smiled sarcastically. “Ha, ha…you are such a riot. It’s been a year since you’ve moved here; why won’t you let the June Bug thing drop?”

“I’m partial to two syllable names.”

With a shrug, he sat up and walked back to his desk where he promptly pulled out a sheet of red construction paper and scissors. I turned my head back to the brown of the table and tried to fall asleep. It was quite difficult, knowing that someone was watching me.

I got off the bus, grateful that after school practice was cancelled. I envisioned a relaxing day at home with modern technology. Internet would be nice. I walked up my driveway and retrieved the mail. As I continued towards my garage, I haphazardly flipped through the mail: the lawn people, bills, colleges, the typical-

I stopped. Amiss the envelopes and bills was a card addressed to: “June Bug, Corner House, Somewhere in Michigan, USA”.

While staring at the red construction paper, I suddenly realized what Clark had been doing today. Shrugging, I grabbed my keys and opened the card. Huh…didn’t know he was artistic…

“To My June Bug: Happy Day I First Met You. I remember seeing you walking towards me and thinking, ‘Wow, I wish I moved here sooner.’ Hope this card was in one piece when you got it-Lovecraft was jealous. Guess I wasn’t as attentive as I normally am with him.”

As I stood there outside, I had this sudden epiphany.

I dropped my backpack off in my garage and headed toward Clark’s house. It was time I actually got to know the guy...and Lovecraft, for that matter.

Review, please! D Starbucks, anyone?